MAN TALK - Honour among players

 Every bar has one. I’m not talking about a big, flat-screen TV because Kenyans have this peculiar habit of rushing to the bar to catch the evening news broadcast. You can’t be too hard on us, though. With uncensored footage of city councillors engaging in armed struggle, it makes for compelling viewing. I mean, it beats reality TV any day. Remember Big Brother whose notable highlights were the shower scenes? 

Well, if you thought watching 12 adults behaving like spoilt brats was boring, wait until you catch the sequels. Talk of taking a bad idea too far but the hype seems to have got around a lot faster than bird flu. I once caught the reality series Survivor Africa on local TV and all I had to say was, “You’re kidding me?” They call that survival? They should have titled it, “Who wants to be Tarzan?” As far as I was concerned, it was just another case of bush romantics, which seems to be the West’s fascination with Africa. The noble savage all over again.  They should call the genre “fake reality TV”. The bottom line is this: When the motivation is US$ 1 million, anyone can act “real”.

However, I digress. I had a point. Every bar has a spent female sometimes called the easy lay. She looks for love but gets cheap drunken sex instead. Everyone flirts with her when high but no one wants to take her home. In many ways, men in this country are still very traditional and despite our desperate clutch on modernity, our relationships ascribe to the same rules of yore. One wishes our women would understand this. Men can get away with sleeping around, women can’t. These are the rules and spare me the rant because I didn’t make them. 

Of course, women have ignored vital caution and tried playing by the same rules. All they achieve in the end is a reputation as “an easy lay” and a table full of ex-lovers. The past does catch up with us in the most unflattering fashion sometimes.

Contrary to popular belief, men gossip although with a lot more decorum. We don’t go into the details because every man is expected to exaggerate.  Given half a chance, most will claim that they delivered heaven. That’s before one learns to insist on the woman taking full responsibility for her pleasure. Isn’t that what equality is all about? One thing must be said, though. The woman-caught-in-muddle is rarely at fault; merely another case of a female going “Kitty, kitty!” to a pack of wolves. I regard it as the female equivalent of the nice guy who gets abandoned after a huge investment in “sweet nothings” for the first jerk with a decent opening line.

The bar mimics the man’s world and each has something close to a Legion of Honour. It is open to all men and peer awards are given for acts of exceptional generosity in lean times, consistent coherence even when under influence, not forgetting the highly sought-after Bull of the Ring award that’s reserved for the man distinguished for the female company he keeps. Men go to bars hoping to bump into loose women but there are never enough females to go around, mostly because any man with an iota of sense never carries his first choice to the watering hole. You might as well hang a noose around your neck. Bars are meant to be stress-free and I don’t see how you will achieve that by having the missus lurking around, waiting to accuse you of staring at female bottoms. 

The first time the new female walks into the local bar she’s always someone’s hot new number. Unaccompanied women are always treated with suspicion. For awhile, she will remain in the no-touch zone. There is no value in crossing a man who proved generous before. Basically, don’t mess with the goose that lays the golden egg. So in the interim, she will enjoy the spotlight until the man of the moment starts showing waning interest. A telling sign is when he starts using his friends as cover as he runs a side-show. 

Feeling neglected, the scorned woman tries to claw back by outrageously flirting with a close friend of her ex-lover, hoping to play the jealousy card. In most instances she ends up falling for reverse psychology, handing the brother his freedom card while giving the buddies a chance to score. That’s when the pack of hyenas descend. There is such a thing as honour among players and men have learnt how to wait in line for their turn.  

It is strange that a woman immediately loses respect in her ex-lover’s peer circle the moment she makes the mistake of sleeping with one of the boys. Loyalty to the pack always comes first, so she inevitably gets treated a bit like Alaska; everyone knows where it is but there is little motivation to go there. 

The cruel fact is that women have a sell-by date (Although I think Tina Turner is an exception, we are not talking about exceptions here). Going strictly by appearance, most women emerge from the stars but rapidly end up in the stables. Beauty turns to beast. Most bar girls go through the cycle and it is important to know when your five minutes are up or you will be booed off stage. 

That’s why women should always insist on being chased. It is what men want. Like in the animal kingdom, we expect the prey to run or there will be little motivation to release the perks that a conquest comes with, top on the list being commitment.

Ignore the fact that I have said enough to fill an encyclopedia to the contrary. It is called the benefit of hindsight. 

Eat right, keep fit, but die anyway.