Cat-fights

Posted by Esco in City-Life

 

 Whoever said women were from Venus does not have a clue. I have reflected on the theories on the different planets women are from, and have decided that they definitely originate from Mars. They are engineered for battle, don’t let the soft and silky exterior fool you.

Being from Mars, they have also developed their own language, woman-speak if you like, a code of verbal communications and non-verbal signals which no man can fathom.

Females have a secret “Bluetooth” connection to each other that flies like an invisible wave over men’s heads. Well, maybe it should be called infra-red because it is like a silent Amazonian war-cry, rather than a language or code, and it is spoken with a female aiming at another with cross-hairs.

You’re a chap who has just introduced your date to your female cousin. They scream and laugh like old friends when they are introduced: 

I have heard so much about you.

 I love your hair! Where did you get it done?

Oh, I use Robby’s too. He makes the best hair in Lagos.

Wow, you are so pretty, nice shoes.

And you are standing there, looking at them proudly. Your best cousin in the world and your date-but-soon-to-be- girlfriend all in the same room together. Your two best females in the world are getting along. Bliss!

As soon as either of them is alone with you, the truth prevails.

Your cousin: “She is alright, but I think she is rather plastic. Her accent was a front and she over painted her face with make-up.”

And you, like any other bloke would think after you witnessed their rapport say “I thought you told her that you liked her hair and that she was pretty.”

And your date complains too “Your cousin was a bit cocky. I don’t think I really like her; she was sort of waiting for me to say hi to her first. Oh, and I hated her shoes as well – who still wears Cortina?”

Cortina? Those were Mary Janes. Ok you may think that they are like so ten seasons ago, but that is beside the point.

And your face is like confused.com! You are thinking, what just happened? They seemed to get along quite well when they were introduced. When within the short period of interaction did your cousin have time to be cocky?

Dude, you are not alone. Join the queue of bewildered men who have tried to crack women-speak for years.  Do not strain your brain cells trying to understand the Morse code that was exchanged between those two fatal females. Once you grow facial hair, have a broken voice and hang between your legs, that language is lost on you. It is like trying to teach a billy goat Ibibio.

It is said that maybe when God dispersed the builders of the Tower of Babylon by making them speak different languages, thereby confusing them; women came away with a distinct language that blokes could never decipher.

Forget about the groom and bridesmaids, why do you think the bride wears white at weddings? I do not know either, but the groom’s black is a symbol of piety, mourning and soberness.

White means I am the star, I am pure, look at me, the prettiest and luckiest among women folk. I am getting married today so I am a princess and you other females, bridal train and visitors alike are my loyal subjects. All hail and worship me. I also get to choose lousy outfits for the bridesmaids. How about orange and yellow? Check?

But no seriously, but do you ever wonder why females have to work twice as hard as their male counterparts to succeed? Maybe it is because they have to contend with venom spitting females as well as chauvinistic males.

 Look at the Nigerian entertainment industry, I daresay females have it much harder and that’s why there are way fewer stars especially among the new acts. I was reading something online recently about a fashion event had just occurred some days before. It had pictures of svelte Nigerian models in various poses modeling the new fashion line of various Nigerian designers. What got me splitting my sides, but scratching my head was a reader comment below the pictures. One girl said “This Annette Begg girl poses too much! What is always wrong with her, sef?”

And I am thinking, hello Ms. Begg is a model, and posing is what they do. I doubt if fashion designers hired her to postulate theories on physics.

I read an interview somewhere in which Goldie the Nigerian singer claimed that in the entertainment industry there is a ridiculous competition amongst females about who has the biggest boobs and this has caused a lot of infighting. Wow, no wonder Cossy Orjiakor is much derided. But Mercy Johnson seems to be doing rather well.

Did women learn a kind of mental martial art at the Women’s Conference at Beijing in 1995? The conference was held in China, you know?

Some years back, a girl I took out on date got into a tiff with another female at the entrance to the beach. Actually she made a snide remark about the other girl, who somehow read her lips and figured out it was aimed at her. The other female started crying and told her boyfriend who looked like a muscle-builder. Imagine a dark 6 foot 6 man with Gentle Jack’s build and Hanks Anuku’s temper. He and the other girl had just started going steady, and as a new boyfriend, he felt the need to defend her “honour.” Against. Me. An innocent person, guilty by association!

This female mental warfare thing happens almost everywhere. You get better and quicker service as a guy, from a female customer agent, than a female would. In some restaurants, you even get bigger portions if the waiter is a female than your date! Female bank cashiers seem to eye up female customers and are more likely to be lackadaisical.

Even on the roads, it is no different. I was driving my car and had a girl sitting next to me. An okada rider carrying a woman swerved dangerously, entering my lane just to overtake. I rolled down my window because I and my female friend wanted to chide the okada-man for his recklessness, and the woman on the okada said to my friend: “You de talk now, because dem don carry you now.” She was insinuating that my friend was a sex-hawker? Unbelievable! And we were not even talking to her, we were warning the okada-man about his recklessness. But she aimed her missile at the female.

I was with the lads recently having drinks when they broached this subject. Someone said he noticed that when girls met or were introduced for the first time, they usually touched each other’s hair, complimenting or making observations about their hair. He said that this act is a non-verbal communication in itself. It either creates a bond or bondage.

My friend amusingly backed up his postulation with an example. He observed that when women say something to each other, men hear something else. Let me illustrate:

Men hear – I love your hair, it is sooooo long. Wow!

What girl is saying – Your hair covers your flaky scalp and big ears perfectly.

Men hear – I really like your shoes. They look comfy.

What girl is saying – Interesting and weird choice of shoe color and material.  They cover your bunions up perfectly.

It is though that any chap who can learn “womanese” would rule the world, with palaces in every city and a harem of beauties. Well there is a way to learn it but the price is too high to pay. Good luck learning it. You can become what you learn, you know.

Mothers or older women are not left out either. It is funny how most mothers may never let their sons marry a divorcee or a lady with children from a prior relationship, but would find it difficult to understand why their divorcee or single-mum daughter is finding it difficult to get a suitor.

A friend of mine once told me that a mother can tell if her son’s fiancée had been promiscuous from just looking at the fiancée and engaging her in small conversation.

The scenario is like this: Junior takes Virginia his long-time girlfriend who he had just asked to marry him to go and see his folks.

They are greeted at the door by Junior’s dad, who embraces Virginia with happiness at seeing his dear son’s future wife. They sit down on the comfy lounges chatting, and then Junior’s mother comes into the living room.

Junior introduces his fiancée to his mother: “Mum, please meet Virginia, my girlfriend. She is an accountant and works with Summit Bank.”

Mum dukes says “Hello dear. How are you? How are your parents?”

They all sit down for a while with Junior, Virginia and dad doing most of the talking while the mother looks on and chips in once in a while.

The mother then says to the fiancée “I am preparing us dinner. Join me in the kitchen, dear.”

In kitchen, the mum starts dicing okra with a huge sharp kitchen knife, changes to perfect pidgin without breaking her stride and without even looking at the fiancée says “As I de see you so, make you waka after you don chop dinner finish. You nor fit marry ma pikin o. You wey don see life finish and don waka town well well. Junior na small boy. Shebi you don hear wetin I talk so.”

After which mum asks with a smile, a la Bree from Desperate Housewives “Do you want some tea? Or a soft drink perhaps?”

Virginia is astounded. “Thank you Ma. Do you have Bitter Lemon? Or Parle Soda?”

Meanwhile, Junior and daddy are sitting in lounge, chatting excitedly about Junior’s date and other arrangements, oblivious to the scenario which had just unfolded in the smoking cauldron that is their kitchen.

It is funny – why do you think there is always usually wife and mother-in-law drama. Most men get along with their fathers-in-law. Well except for Robert De Niro’s character in “Meet The Parents”. Bob De Niro was a sadist, and Ben Stiller was a goof bag, so that is understandable.

Ladies with female bosses have it worse usually. Some bosses are known to be obsessed with what their female colleague is wearing rather than the quality of their work. Some bosses also obsess and antagonize if the junior is married and is purportedly shirking her responsibilities at work so as to get home on time. Or if the junior has any perceived airs.

Some girls have turned female slagging into an obsession. You read some girls’ venomous diatribes in the comment sections of BellaNaija and they are sometimes more interesting than the article itself. The venomous comments usually start with the reader saying “Ok where do I start?” and she rubs her hands with glee, ready to lay into the fashion offender featured in the article.

It is crazy – my friend took a girl called Tolu to a really upscale restaurant in VI. They had hardly taken their seats and made their order, when his date scanned the area and started analyzing every girl’s outfit. She didn’t care if the men came dressed like Borat with a Ghana-Must-Go man bag and kito slippers.

Her concern was only with the women:

Oh what does she think she is wearing? She is a hot mess!

That is a fake Louis Vuitton bag. That is VL not LV.

Everyone is wearing Louboutins this days, na wa o. Leave it alone, already.

Oh that is a fake Ralph Lauren Polo shirt; the horse seems to be riding the man.

 Look at that tacky lace front. She looks like Zelda from Terrahawks.

My friend was bored after a few minutes. All he could think of was picking the tab, and seeing if he can get some after-coffee loving to make up for his time and resource.

Tolu kept on bad-mouthing other girls in the place, until one girl on a date herself, who was sitting at a table a short distance away noticed that Tolu was talking about her. She gave Tolu the finger quickly. Her date didn’t even notice, he was busy looking at the expensive menu nervously.

What I cannot understand for the life of me, is why women always abuse or fight the other woman, if they catch their partner cheating. I mean your partner cheated on you; why blame the other lady. Women call the other woman a “slut” even though their partner may have lied that he isn’t spoken for. A man would usually face his girl if he caught her cheating – the other guy just had game. Hate the game and not the player.

Even when females physically fight, it is outrageous. The aim is not to hurt or cause each other physical pain but to strip their foe of her beauty. They humiliate rather than maim.

I once witnessed a 20 minute fight between two girls feuding over a chap; the girls stripped each other of weave, hair, nails and clothes. It was like the fight scene between Dennis Richards and the black girl in the movie Undercover Brother. The mostly male audience, including the girls’ love interest all watched the fight, enjoying the free show. Somebody may have even brought popcorn.

A friend of mine opined that as men, we actually need women to not get along. It creates a competitiveness that gives men the advantage. Chaps have dated friends, sisters, cousins and relatives by playing them up against each other.

I am not sure about that one. Ellen De Generes looks immune to that theory.

A woman can bear you, break you, take you

Queen Latifah (Ladies First, 1989)

 

My girls aint the same, guess it is cause of the fame/

Smile in my face, and throw dirt on my name/

Mad cause I made it, now friends intimidated/

Hate it that I’m in the same game as them/

With more fame than them/

Foxy Brown (My Life, 1999)

 

 

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