Fib, Fibber, Fibbest
All the world’s a
stage, And all the men and women merely players:
– William Shakespeare (I hear his friends called him ‘Willy
Reading through that oh-so-famous quote again, I have to
try to re-infer Shakespeare’s meaning: was he talking about the transient
nature of the human existence? Or was it really a coded missile on
relationships? I fear it was the latter. I also fear that a collect of literary
purists are going to send a not-so-coded missile my way for messing with
Shakesy’s words. And his name.
I really have been perturbed by this ageless conundrum: why
do we have to lie in relationships? And ceaselessly at that. I haven’t found an
answer. I also haven’t found a reason to stop writing so…
FIGURE OF SPEECH
Women are constantly battling with their weight and their
dress sizes and all that.
Sidebar: I was only recently told what a ‘size zero’
means. It still makes no sense to me. None.
Anyways, the primary dilemma here involves your answer to the question: ‘Honey, do I look fat?’
The crazy, crazy thing here is that, as with all things in life where women are involved, you’re screwed either way! If she’s big, she
wants to be told she’s skinny even though she’s actually a Sumo wrestler who
happens to have been raised in Okokomaiko rather than Bao-Ding. If she’s
skinny, she wants to know she’s still slim enough to wear an old outfit from
when she was socials prefect in secondary school. Well hon, if there’s no hope
of that story continuing with I and I dressed as an angry housemaster ready to
punish you for no reason, then I shan’t be compromising my chances of going to
heaven with that untruth.
In lieu of asking: “would you marry me?” men sometimes ask:
“would you make an honest man out of me?” A sad shame indeed for even after
swapping vows, the quest for sexy lies never stops. Prime example is that
six-month period of bedlam that happens to coincide with the second and final
trimesters of pregnancy.
The stereotype propagated by movies is that it is OK to lie
blatantly to thine wife when she art gone preggos. Especially when she doth
look bloated and oily. This ensures you get to sleep on the bed instead of the
couch. Well, this is Africa: we don’t do couches.
“Wow. Nice dress.” “Nice hair-do.” “Nice teeth. Did you
ACTUALLY brush today?” “Those shiny things on your nails look cool even though
I have no idea what they are called.” These are things we say out loud. In our
heads, there is one bigger Q: “did you really need me to tell you
that?????????!!!!!!” This is what makes men players. We’ve figured out what
this does to y’all and once we throw a few of these around, y’all get fluttery
around us. Make it hard(er). The chase and… everything else (go figure!)
ERGO, ‘ERE GOES MY EGO…
See how I played that? I should get paid for my
sub-headings alone. *shoulders up, head expanding*
By definition, the ego is like having an elephant in the
room. Only bigger. Also, it only pops up when a woman gets into a situation
where it is remotely likely that her man’s homeboys will perceive said man as a
bitch should she have her way.
And no man likes to be called a bitch.
What naturally follows is some kind of inferiority complex
where the man opts to flip Oprah the bird and jump off a cliff rather than
concede to being lost and asking for directions. Fyi, in that crazed state, I
have once driven interstate looking for my neighbour’s.
Impasse? Yes. For where men have egos, women have a
constant need to feel good about themselves. Men are pretty much good to go. As
long as any random member of the male species is getting a decently regular
shag (e.g. once in two months) his morale is permanently sky high. Not so for
ladies. If you bunk her too steadily, you’re begging for an inquiry into
whether she’s just a sex object. Too little and she… yes – she thinks you find
her unappealing. Thus, as the designated maker-feeler-gooder for all of
eternity (a heck of a long time I assure you. Could I interest you in that tub
of arsenic now?) it behooves hubby or bf to tell her she’s pretty in that awful
pair of skinny jeans, that her food tastes like heaven (even though it’s a
combination of vinegar and sewage) and that the new furniture she picked makes
the living room look like a Hollywood crib rather than a gay bar. Awesome
The solution is simple: quit fretting about the male ego
and stop complaining about how all men are babies. Then maybe, maybe against
all maybies, maybe we’ll tell you about how you look radiant in that garish
outfit you chose this morning. Maybe we’ll make an effort to adapt to sleeping
on pink bed sheets for your sake.
MAYBE WE’LL GET KICKED OUT.
And this is the summary of it all. The reason why we take
it. Cuz while we are ticked-off as hell, we have defeatedly acknowledged to
ourselves that it doesn’t get much better than where we’re currently at. You
can get a slightly better gift wrapping but when the celebrations and unraveling
are over, all men find that they got the exact same mix of scratching, needy
goodness for Christmas.
And all freakin’ year round!
You don’t get my point? Let me make it: women need to
figure out that we love ‘em irrespective of how little we say it; or how blunt
we tend to be. The best of us want to be 100% honest with y’all: why won’t you
When you’re pregnant and bloating, we observe but it
doesn’t bother us because you still talk smart either way. You’re still funny
and charming. When your make up is not on point, we’re not too bothered cuz
your smile is still killer. When your food tastes god-awful let us tell you
because it will make you a better cook when you know you’ve made mistakes.
Also, we always appreciate the effort.
THAT’S WHY WE STICK AROUND!!! Jeez…
I am aware that this piece will not enhance my
chances of scoring that babe I’ve been scoping since forever. My fate is now in
the hands of those ‘roofies’ I dropped in her Fanta!(I couldn’t see the point
of investing in wine) She drinks it and she’ll wake up married to a monster.
With these few points of mine, I’m sure that I’ve been able
to convince you that I’m a self-absorbed cow. Thank you for noticing. I have
worked tremendously hard to be where I am today.
P.S. If any women wish to reply this, feel free. But try to
make yours as cool and as blunt. Cuz if it ain’t, I won’t lie to you that it
More importantly, your comments aren’t just welcome, they’re needed!