And your partner is not. Or they are, but still have no clue what you’re on about. We’re told often to communicate, but we’re not told what to communicate, how, when. Or even to who. ‘Talk!’ we’re told. ‘Keep the lines open’
We have been told, and were shown pictures. That’s a lot of times if you consider that a picture is a thousand words (in simple logic, it follows that a word is therefore one thousandeth of a picture. ie. If you cut any picture into a thousand pieces, then each piece is a word).
We’re told to communicate. But men are too simple emotionally, it is impossible to talk amongst themselves or to them. Women are too complex, they can’t talk to us or to each other or even to children. We’re a little better off in that regard, we speak the same language as kids. Boys only though. Young girls are interns from the time they can talk, so Sankofa, my 8 year old niece, er, she’s been professional since 2002. And as most interns, she is better than her teachers.
Men are simple but logical. And simple logic works for most things. ‘I go to ATM at Kasuku, fuel at Shell, go up the road to Red Sea, eat, drink, watch soccer, SMS her, meet the boys, admire beauty, SMS her, home by 11pm, sleep solo, wait for Sunday.’ Of course things go wrong right after ATM. With cash in pocket and phone at hand, some alterations just happen. The dude becomes critical of his own decisions. Why text her twice. (‘her’ here is you, his woman for the last 36 months). So he doesn't text you and doesn't come to pick you as agreed.
I know the logic fails often, but this is the best guide there is. Talk to them in simple logic. Not the complex language of emotions.
You have driven, yes, driven, from an island, let’s say, Madagascar (II), to see this boy in Nairobi. You’re doing 3 degrees courses simultaneously, Law, Medicine and Nuclear Physics. Scholarship by Da Furher, Herr Hitler himself, Hitler comes in person to pay your fees. Your dad is an ex-teacher, was sacked because he killed some kids, shot them, for coming late. You also work in a children’s hospital 12 hours a day. But you drive from Madagascar (II, it was funnier) to Hurlingham, Nairobi, Kenya, to see this chap. That act in itself is a show of love of the highest order. So how should you announce your little surprise visit. You need not, the facts are bare, there.
If you know anything about men, this is how you’re talking to him.
‘I come here, now, to see you, (insert his name, first name only, short form, otherwise he thinks you’re talking to his dad, and then switches off) because I like you (here insert your name, whilst pointing at yourself, don’t point at the chest, otherwise it gets sexual, not at tummy or he thinks you want babies, or worse, you’re pregnant, framing him. Point at your Driver’s Licence, or elbows). That is the same reason why I have been calling you daily for the last year. I like you. You are good man’
Simple short sentences, with poor grammar are winners.
For guys, call often, and express simple clear feelings. Feelings you have towards her. I am happy when I am with you. You make me happy. I sent you a text when our team won, because I want to share my happiness with you.
That should be simple enough for most of you us to do. We still won’t quite get each others point though, but the conversations will be painless.
Most women however speak in WMT, Women Mother Tongue. They use literary styles we’re unfamiliar with. Sarcasm, irony, hyperbole, repetition (oh, this makes us sleeeeeeepy, wot!) (where did that ‘what’ thing come from?) rhetoric, and a myriad of micro and macro facial expressions that make us think of procreation.
‘You think I came from Australia to Nairobi because? Hallo! Duh! (girls, if the the guy responds, ‘am fine, to the 'Hallo!' please just ignore him). And you know how strict my parents are? You just don’t get it? do you? What do you want? Eh? (guys, don’t answer, this is not a question, don’t play with phone, don’t smile or grin, don’t pocket, don’t look away, don’t look at her, don’t fold arms at chest, in fact, don’t even breath).
The girl is sure her point is clear. It is actually, but only to her. And some of her friends, Only some. The chap, he is now completely lost. He is analysing the facts with simple logic. You overcame great odds. You drove on water. Your sponsor killed 6 million Jews. Your parents are strict. You have not mentioned sex. You have not mentioned my name. You’re angry. Ok, you probably came to see some other dude. Maybe my pal? No. You came straight to my crib, but you don’t like me (for one, you’re fully dressed and are talking). Simple logic: you have obviously come here to kill me. Logical thing is to act calm, distract her, take her to a public place with many witnesses, just like in CSI.
So that’s how come you always end up at Buffet park, where, once there, safe in the company of his 11 closest pals, he is talking with your best friend. The above mentioned, who did not get your point.
Buffet Park is good. I would lock myself in the room and we would communicate by SMS. ‘Wen r u gng bck? I no chip txi guy, cheap bt gud’ ‘Uber gud’
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For guys, talk in simple emotions. There is really no other way, we’re only equipped with simple emotions, all of 3 of them. Happy, sad, horny (btw, guys, the last one, women still don’t think it’s an emotion lol, can you believe that, anyway, don’t use it yet. Let’s be reasonable and give them time).
In the above game plan, most men would attempt a logical explanation. Give the facts, for you to deduce the meaning. The man would be tempted to explain to you in simple logic how he was planning to SMS you twice that night, after the soccer match, to tell you his team won, and after seeing a cute chick, to tell you he has seen a cute chick, and that is a sign that he loves you. He couldn't come pick you because of the soccer match. (duh)
To other chaps this makes a great deal of sense. We’re at the club, and you’re at the phone twice, texting, not surfing, and it’s the same woman? Dude, you’re in love. Your team won, you SMSed. You saw a hot chick, you thought of her!! And even SMSed her! Dude, you’re so whipped. Your boys will say this and laugh at you. And no one likes being laughed at.
For women, this is a hair pulling story. If she tells her pals. They cannot believe it. They have no words. They have arms. Toned arms being waved, shapes in the air, mascaraed eyes being rolled. Ati what?
You repeat ‘Ati Kibaki (his real name) told me he was going to SMS me twice on sato, you remember when he was to pick me? He didn't SMS, he did appear’
In unison, all your 4 girlfriends, ‘eeeeh uummmmhmmm’. Like a choral verse at Kenya Schools Drama Festival, Coast. They wave for you to shut up.
‘ati what? Repeat that story. Just to annoy us’ They clarify, with emphasis that last part, in unison. But their eyes tell you don’t repeat.
So you don’t repeat. They push their chairs back. Stand. Walk to cars at Azalea parking. Reverse all the way home, shaking heads. Go to their en suite bedrooms, shake head and wave arm for 15 minutes in front of mirror, then reverse back to Azalea pub and lounge. They reverse, as a symbol of disorder, things are not right.
They come back, pull chairs back and sit. They smell of Kenchic. Chips and Chicken. They couldn't resist passing by a fast food.
‘Don’t even talk! The nerve of that mannnnn!!! Don’t even talk’. ‘Talk’ is said like ‘Torque’ They mean start talking in great details. You get more points for diagrams and illustrations.
And so you talk, you tell them. And they get the point. And they are mad.
Except one of them. One of them did not even reverse home in madness, she drove normally, she was even shaking the wrong arm, and her micro-expressions were of fake anger. After she left the parking, she went and called your man and asked him how he is doing. Has he eaten? Where is he? She will pass by his house with some home cooked food. She dropped him rice and stewed chicken and came back to Azalea.
Women are too complex to talk to each other. As you explain to them this scenario, some think that your man is very simple, so, easy to keep, the perfect man. And therefore they want him. Or you explain, and they think, this man is complex, we will understand each other. So they want him. And as you all know, a man can get any woman who wants him. She wants your man, she’ll get him. And you were his marketing director. Brand manager. Ad agency. Copy writer. You were his Peter Marangi.
On the other hand, men are too simple to even talk to each other. They just grunt, shout, and repeat newspaper headlines or what the commentator is saying.
‘That’s a penalty!!!’ Supersports says.
‘Yeah, that’s a penalty’ you say.
‘argh! That’s a pena!’ All the men in the pub say. In unison. Drama Fest.
On occasion, men explore emotions.
‘Dude, ati she came from Melbourne to see you? Be afraid, she wants something. Ignore her. What’s her name again’
‘Yeah, she must have done that to many other guys, she’s funny that one. I told you to stop calling her, you didn’t listen, you never listen to me. ’ This is usually the most emotional of your friends.
‘No, she has some sugar daddy paying for her these, dude. Watch it. and she looks the controlling type. I think she even wants me’ This is often the dude who lives in Langata. Macho, they think they are.
One of the guys will be quiet. He gets the point. Her point. This is a committed woman looking for an understanding man. He sees gap. This guy drinks white wine or Smirnoff Black on serious nights. He once drank 2 beers on a Friday and did not go to work till Wednesday. 'Si I drank you guy? I Kunywad! Wot!'
His car is not tinted, doesn’t even have a CD player, he has Aaliyah tapes. And Jazz, Dave Koz. He buys Newsweek, Time and the Economist weekly. Wears clear specs, has never worn sun glasses. His ringtone is monophonic Nokia 3310. He wears shorts and an over ironed African kitenge shirts on Sundays.
Your girl, she thinks he is dead boring, but needs to teach you a lesson using simple logic. So he’s humming Mozart at Java Junction on Sunday at 7.30 am. With her by his side. She is smiling, she is so sad.
Meanwhile your sluttish self is still with her airhead friend, at some nameless off-licence pub in Nairobi West. You’re planning an escape using simple emotions. You tell her you’re horny, she takes flight, you go home. Free. Sad.
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Men, express your feelings. We only have 2 emotions but we can be creative with those two, use different tenses. I am sad when you’re away. I was sad when you went to Australia. I am sad when you talk to other men for long at the party. I am happy, I am sad. Women understand very complex emotions, so these 2 are good and they are easy for us to explain. I saw a beautiful woman, and I thought of you. I will be happy when I see you.
Keep talking. But don’t talk to your friends. Love is not war, that you have sides. Friends and foes. Winners and losers. Love is just love. In love, no one wins and losers weep (The Bee Gees, Still Waters Run Deep – 'When we lie to each other, no one wins and losers weep' Listen to that song). Talk to each other, talk before a relationship, talk during a relationship, talk after a relationship. Very important this last one. Talk in their language. Talk in simple logic, talk in basic emotions. Don’t talk to your friends. (Just look at the decisions they make. Ha!)
If you must talk to your friends. Lie to them.
should have read this earlier..still,very impressed.
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