It’s a cold Johannesburg night and I am out with a few friends, For once I am surprised because I am not bored (not the people – the nonstop soccer mania that continues to torture me day in and day out). I wasn’t bored because after a two day mission we had finally found ‘hot Ghanians to hang out with. I know we are so bad). I refuse to mention whose company I was in as that would be incriminating evidence.
Now as beautiful as these Ghanian friends were we all knew that it was a passing phase, because they were here for the World Cup and well, we have or rather had, because they were our fix, been hungry for eye candy for a while, some of us having spent a total of two years not having uttered one word to a hot guy ( we have spoken to guys, just not the hot ones). As I sat there wiping drool off my heavily made up face to hide my desperation an annoying screeching missile dropped, or rather knocked my skull to the ground. What was this missile and where did it appear from? Well, I like to look at it this way; when you meet new people, there are points where the conversation runs dry and then you have to improvise, although a clever improvisation – it somewhat compromised my chances with a dark chocolate man ( chances being near impossible as these people are just here for the WC). Some moron mentions how Wayne Rooney has a receding hairline ( at this point I cringe, because according to my friends my ex crush has a receding hairline) I was hoping no one would grab that delicious opportunity to put me out there, but alas – I became the evenings first target. My Friend swiftly turned around and said: “hey Chumi, where’s your crush with the receding hairline?” This is the point, where everyone turned around and glared at me. The No1 hot Ghanian chocolate god asked me: “So, who is this guy with the receding hairline?” All I could say in my defense is: “Noooo, he just has a big forehead.” I get laughed at all the time, but the laughter from that night stung a bit more.
As the night progressed we proceeded to discuss relationships and why three beautiful women under the age of thirty were still single? Our answer was a united: “There are no good men in Johannesburg and the ones that are close are gay or in the closet.” Obviously, with each of us having and equally horrid, but unique story to tell. These gentlemen were in shock and awe at some of the behavior that we described to them. While sitting there I began to realize that a new trend was on the rise. The men are starting to behave like the women, for the longest time we been saying that chivalry is dead and we gonna find that bitch that killed him, but not only is he dead, he has also been buried forgotten and his grave stolen by some weirdo in some weird place in Polokwane.
I remember wearing the pants a few times, working, changing the lights, carrying up the groceries, fixing broken doors, fetching drunk people – hell if ,we had a garden I would have done that too. My question is when did the roles become blurred? I am as liberal as Aretha Franklin’s hat, but I was still raised to believe that men and women have roles. Ok ,but also in the guys defense, you may say blah blah feminism and we wanted to be equal… ok given neh, but we are sooooooo not equal right now, the guys are taking advantage and all they do is … what do guys do these days? The simple act of men approaching woman has also drastically changed, I swear it’s the guys that flutter the eyes and the girls have to walk over and buy them a drink. Next thing you know women will be buying boys cars and paying the rent…. Wait… oh, that is already happening.
I am confused here, what is it with this new wave of Himbos (male bimbos)? Don’t get me wrong there are good guys out there, lovely young men and like I said they may be gay, in the closet or married.
We also spoke about the good guys, like how I grew up with my dad being the ultimate hero and I refuse to accept a second rate man, but at some point in my growth and confusion I had accepted a himbo man. As we spoke about these bad men I recollected an incident where I was in a car accident, not too far from where ‘the love of my life’ was, after about 5 missed calls, he answered: “What do you want?” “Baby, I just had a car accident” “Ok, I will see you at home later then” *blank stare.* Wow the dude was down the road… if it was the men I was raised around they would have been there in the shake of an elephants tail, needless to say I did not see him for at least a week after that call. Now this was just one example of many stories and not just based on my life, a lot of women have met up with these (iam not sure what to call them anymore).
Obviously my point here can be argued and I know that this point is flying around everywhere, but the real reason I wrote this was to answer this question: Why are there so many single women in their 20’s in JHB? The answer is simple, there are not enough real men for the real woman that are out there. Chivalry died… Gender seems to be following. Will we ever date again?
