What Women Want: Part 1 (A.Onyango)

 God made the world and rested. Then God made man and they rested. Then God made woman… and the word “rest” rested. I am on record as referring to women as wild animals who should be tranquilized and ignored until they mature to look like Halle Berry. But like my uncle The Actuary usually tells me, "women are a calculated risk every man must take to ensure the continuation of the family name" (screw the species). 

But I am not above admitting that my skepticism about the “fairer sex” is due to empirical evidence compiled from interactions with ex-girlfriends. They sparked the question “What do you want from me?”

My friend Eva the Diva tells me that all women want is honesty, integrity, unconditional love, good grooming, a good sense of humor and respect. If a woman gets all of these from a man then she will “reciprocate ten times over”. In addition a quick survey at the office (I have a lot of time on my hands) revealed add-ons like maturity, intelligence, affection, leadership, financial stability, reliability, support, worldliness and curiosity. This compiled list seems fair enough but what if I told you I have been all these things (at once at some point) and it STILL didn’t work. Allow me to share my romantic escapades with you. 

It began with the “Playground Missy”. I can still remember her red polka dot dress. Back then life was simple, I thought ALL girls were disgusting and would go as far as to build “forts” out of logs, where me and my male comrades could be safe from their advances. She was a sneaky one, she managed to penetrate our defenses with fancy footwork (hopscotch is not a game, it’s training). Once she was in the fort, my comrades took off in fear. But I stood my ground. She puckered and went for the kiss, but I pushed her back. As I turned to get away, she tripped me and jumped on my back. Once she had me pinned, she unleashed a barrage of kisses as her evil friends laughed and cheered. Humiliated in defeat, I cried all the way home. I told The General (aka Dad) what had happened and he told me to “Get used to it”. According to him, women would be tripping me over for the rest of my life.

Time passed and puberty struck like a hammer of punishment. Hormones began to rage and pure mind, once concerned with what would happen on the next episode of Mighty Ducks, now became riddled endless desires and naughty images. As if the shame of what was going on in my head was not enough, the once disgusting female attention I received in earlier years became an obsession. I had to have one. I had to kiss one.

At this point I met “The First One”. I call her the first one because she was the first woman I used the term “girlfriend” on without gagging. She satisfied my sick hormonal desires and in return all I had to do was hold her hand in public and occasionally eat lunch with her. Unfortunately, as I would later affirm in life, hand holding and shared meals are not key drives for fidelity. Soon enough she was sharing lunch, holding hands and satisfying the hormonal needs of other guys.

TO BE CONTINUED….