Tuesday, 4 November 2014

Give Me A French Man Please

I was in a meeting with a book PUBLISHER, an acquaintance of a good friend of mine who is supposedly an educated and established older man. I'm not TRIBALISTIC in anyway, but I think he's from the west and wears his age on his forehead. You know those type na....the ones who want you to dobalè....Err, I mean PROSTRATE or take a dip every time you see them or even catch their eye....Good morning sir (Dobalè), So what do you think sir? (Dobalè), When can we get feedback sir? (Dobalè). 

Alright, I really do not have time for this type of CRAP. I mean it's not like I'm looking for another Daddy'm (not that one could have more than enough though) that being said I'm looking at his somewhat lecherous STARE masked in false professionalism and I could almost picture him mentally STRIPPING me off my clothes, despite the fact that he was 'forming' tough Oga for us. As if it wasn't obvious the effort with which he was trying so hard, to be overtly serious and brash gladly giving away secrets of the internal BATTLE he must have been fighting with himself. Lol. After reminding me five bloody times that he's an old man who's very ACCOMPLISHED and that oh, he's also a Chief Barrister (I wasn't even aware that joint title existed somewhere in the books)....

So here I was patiently waiting for a sign of conviction, that as always, my INSTINCTS were right. Just as my friend slipped in to the gents. He stretches his strong swollen hands to touch mine and then whispered "Ehen, Alex my dear, so when are you meeting your daddy for lunch in my hotel? Just you and me o. So we know each other better" Ha mogbé! Daddy ke? "Chief-Barrister-I'm-Older-Than-The-Universe" wants to put it down on me, just like that. Mba nu, bad market!!! Lol. 

All these BIG uncles that act like they are older than Abraham in the Bible (as if I really care) I mean I could easily be having his mate SCREAM my name next to multiple profanity as he convulses in a bid to get my approval of his ding dong....but this right here means absolutely nothing to me, abegi. Not my style and certainly not with the way he thinks he's more knowledgeable and more EXPERIENCED than everyone else because of a few greys on his hair. Wait, has he even seen my pubic hair? (Thank you Lagos traffic, Multiple bills and Bad Policies....Y'all take the credit) Hahahah. And did I forget to add housekeeping and caring for Ray without a maid has added extra streaks of golden gray to my CURLY collection?! He can park his age for all I care abeg, (if age na the matter, him sef no follow) after all I had a big thing for Metuselah (Err....Yes na! Okay I'm Just kidding) and when it comes to making a pass at a woman....we all know age ain't got no business with the bedroom nor with business itself, though I like to ADMIT that I prefer my man much older and wiser, cos the older the wine, the better for me, I'm that sort of VINTAGE collector.... Hehehe.

And whilst I'm thinking about the only two things I realise command respect in Africa,  AGE and WEALTH....I secretly want to slap some sense into some pea brains. Why can't we just get over the MENTALITY to lord over and demand respect like a persons age or bank account is even proof of one's Character and Success. (Haven't you ever seen a fool at 40? And believe me, I know a number of them, including this one hoping i'm desperate enough to knock on 235). Mstcheww!!! So for Pete sake, the only way I'm calling any other man 'Daddy' is if he's willing to go on all fours and EAT me up 3 days in a row non-stop, cum et all and I mean non-stop, no pulling out for some air or catching his breath (That's 72 hours running old man, and when you finally have my cream grey up all your hair. You can let the world know just how easy it was for you to earn my respect....Shior!!! Lol.)

My point? CHIVALRY is dead and Arrogance is in. A man no longer has to work hard at getting a woman's attention. He does not even need to be nice, tactful considerate, open doors, walk behind you, help you carry bags or even just be the average gentleman, even if his intentions are pure and it better be....Oh no! He just needs to flash his ROLEX, his bland award collections, a few dollars in your face and a news paper "cut out" of himself.... Viola!!! The women will be fleeting around him like flies on poop. Kai! women don't even realise it and I'm starting to THINK most english speaking men don't even CARE. Hence why, I pretty much fantasize these days about real men speaking real languages, I can not translate.... so that even if he calls me a "BITCH" in French, Spanish, Portuguese or Hindi....I would just think it's SEXY anyway and say "I love you too hun" with a big smile on my sweet face.  Lol. 

And to prove that a little element of chivalry isn't a fixture of just my over-active imagination or the CREATION of emotionally unstable writers from romantic telenovelas. My meeting in the Republic of Benin over the weekend proved so. We had gone to meet JB Hounyovi, the famous French-African Fashion Designer....and whilst we had been invited to another of his SPECIAL hide-out showrooms, it was his reception of us that pretty much reminded me of how different french people really are. He had come out to get us from the gate....oh biko leave Naija man alone o, the security aka 'maiguard' will do the honours after he has kept you waiting for 30 minutes in the hot sun because 'Mr Big Oga' can only prove he's a big busy man by keeping you waiting na. (or don't you think?) Lol. Or is it the boyfriend or side boo you SCREWED his brain throughout the night, who can't even put on his pants to accompany you out the door till you leave, as he waves at you a PALE goodbye from a little peak hole like you are his delivery lady or the newspaper girl or better still the neighbourhood milk woman. Hahahah. You get my drift abi? And then  Monsieur JB does the famous "Bise" (aka the air kisses or just kisses across both cheek)....which is really the way french people greet each other.  

And he welcomed us and I remember Victoria Nkong repeatedly filling my head with "Bonjour, Merci, Ca'va" and all the elementary french I honestly didn't learn in school because I was more FIXATED with gushing at the cool cat they sent in as our French teacher (and I probably wasn't the only girl in senior secondary gushing over him and how he used to pronounce our names....actually, my name....A-l-e-x-a-n-d-r-a with a rich baritone french ACCENT that made the scant hair on my legs curl. Hahahah. So we got into Monsieur Hounyovi's Master craft HAVEN and had a brief chat about business, the photo shoot etc when he eventually called us to the dinning table for LUNCH. Of which the hunger wey hold me ehn, I was this close to kicking off my heels and my manners and just dash straight for the kitchen or wherever the smell of that Jasmine rice or Basmati rice was filtering from. 

That's how Internationaly-Acclaimed-Award-Winning-Impresario-Extraordinaire  and Fashion guru of the Francophone world (with plenty gray hair for that matter....Lol) along with his butler dey serve us food o,  No go come, nothing like "I'm the big boss" No Shakara ....Not even when Victoria and Jimi offered to help him out (even though earlier, Mr Nigerian Jimi, nicely strolled out of the car, leaving me to carry my bag despite the fact that I had another bag and a little 4 year old on hand....even though, Victoria TEASED him about it....and I just made a mental note that "These Nigerian men ain't bothered mehn".

Is it the warm reception JB gave us (and he didn't spit thunder and fire that he was being called by his first name, not addressed as Uncle, Chief, Engineer, Architect or Daddy (I even remember Victoria mischievously refer to him as "Daddy" for Ray's benefit and the man didn't find it funny at all. I can picture Chief-Barrister in his shoes hanging that achievement on his wall. Or is the very courteous man at the hotel front desk or is it the Qtaby production LIAISON that helped Ray find a great spot to pee in the market (Despite being a man and having Ray's mom, right there) or the cabbie driver who waited for hours without angrily driving off or beeping the hell out of our phones (just to annoy us out of that meeting). Abeg what are we even talking about sef? Any man who isn't ashamed to cook, dish, serve me and chase me. That's the one I want. So Please oh, Give me a French MAN Any day. Or what do you think Lovelies? 

NOTE: If You Enjoyed Today's Post, Kindly Share It With Those You Love (Or Even Like A Lot). Hehehe.

Have A Terrific Tuesday Lovelies! Kisses!

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