Like many of you, I happen to be on several WhatsApp groups; from old schools, previous work places to PTAs, the arts, to…name it.
I’ve been co-opted into many of these groups without my say so. Friends just add my number and I find myself in the midst of people I’m supposed to have shared interest with. Of course, I have removed myself from several, simply because I felt I should never have been part of such in the first place, nothing personal.
Now, the upside to these group chats is you’ll read some really crazy stuff in there but the downside is waking up to find over 1500 unread chats from one group or another (who has time to read all these?) and these often wear out my battery.
Anyway, I was in traffic on Allen Avenue one day and scrolling through, that’s when I realised, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. I looked out and observed that virtually every shop was selling Valentine’s as some crazy sex day; from outrageously sexy lingerie to kinky cards.
Well, that’s for the rich guys.
On Valentine’s Day, the poorer cousins will be scrambling around for plastic roses, cheap wine, tasteless chocolates, tawdry gifts and wraps, all with one aim in mind. Sex.
I always thought Valentine’s Day is the day we show love, not the day we recklessly abandon caution and have mad sex. Valentine’s day is mostly about pleasing the woman, (Women are powerful o) that babe, that girlfriend, that sweetheart, that girl you’ve been eyeing, to apologise and make up, and maybe even to deceive, uh huh.
We won’t talk about the deception today, because love is in the air, so let’s talk about why we celebrate the woman during Valentine, which is why it’s safe to say all of you kids born in November are products of Valentine Day’s romp!
Why do women usually receive gifts for Valentine and then usually never give a return gift apart from a card, that’s usually because they have a much bigger gift in mind.
So the guy buys her a car, flowers, chocolates, sexy lingerie, whatever and she gives him a kiss and a card. Equation balance? Not so.
Anyway, so there I was reading the chats on this particular group which I will not name. Someone said she was expecting her significant other to buy the latest iPhone in town. When asked what she would give in return, she replied with: “I will wax him to a shine, he won’t even know it wasn’t by his own effort.”
“Yes, o. never let these men know when their performances are below par in bed. Just moan and make him feel like a stud.” Many posted laughing emoticons and chipped in their own as well.
One said she would go bald from head to toe, though she fears her man will never notice as he’s a 5-minute man. Many lol’d with various types of icons showing they were tickled.
The rest of us were in ghost mode, (or monitoring spirit mode) as the new WhatsApp’s lingo describes non-participating participants like me. Who wants to soil their good Christian name or hijab they have worn righteously all these years?
Biko, like Viola would say, “pass me the popcorn,” I planned on being an attentive audience here. Chat soon evolved into why women never tell their lovers what poor performers they are.
– “Why bother telling him he didn’t live up to expectations,” one asked?”
– “He will call you an ashawo then ask you to prove to him who you are comparing him with.”
– “My own is just shooting blanks… but in other areas, he is a good guy, so I will never tell him he is not doing it well, o.”
– “What’s your own, sef, get a vibrator, so that you will be satisfied, if he’s not a performer,” someone suggested.
One said her husband sends raunchy text messages as prelude to the evening but after 10 minutes, he is out. “He’s a good man, so I pretend it was great.”
In the midst of all of these therapies, abi wetin I go call am? There were pieces of advice that ranged from the sane to the downright ridiculous.
– “Just keep faking the orgasm, fake and moan while imagining it’s another person.”
– “Watch blue films together to give him tips.”
Several emoticons followed that one…
– ”He will throw my load out of the house, you haven’t realised that Nigerian men don’t like to be challenged about bedmatics?”
– “Jst kip chot and moan…like a cow.”
Sales! Sales! Sales! Organic sex toys. Call me.
Lobatan.
At this point, I had no idea Naija women had become so bold on the topic of sex.
I recall a lady from another group I belong to posted a well photoshopped image of herself and while others were all wao-ing at how great she looked, she attributed her youthful looks to constant sex. After she made this confession, the rest of the over 80 female adult members (with many prepping up to be grandmothers, o) went all quiet for more than 30 minutes. It was as if she had just dropped a bomb!
We might as well be saying-Astagafurilahi! How can you say such an unislamic thing like that?
-Holy cow! You can never be a good Christian mother!
-This is pure porno, no porno on this platform please!
-Don’t you know our kids often pick our phones and read these things?
-You are not well; at your age you are still doing it?
On this group, sex is a taboo topic, we won’t even discuss it, not to talk of proffering practical solutions to “suffering” members.
As usual, I was in ghost mode but back to my raunchy group.
More advice poured in, “So after the man has gone to conquer the world for you, you will now come and tell him say, “Ol boy, perform o.”
– “Wo, you are dead!”
– “Is anyone coming to the UK, I need crayfish, o.”