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My dating mares: I am picking men’s brains

That chat with mum is still bothering me. How can someone gather all her energy throughout 2016 and waste it at the end of the year in just one night?

I thought Denis was pulling my leg when he ran to Facebook messenger to assure me he was in the same overnight on 31 December with my mum and her sisters and all they were praying for were their families, especially me, who should get married in 2017.

Before I could reply him, he said that was his prayer for me as well. I have not replied him yet. At the moment I have chosen to sit on the fence.

Do you care to know why? I am using all this time to pick men’s brains – they seem to have the best of both worlds. Scientists have overtime proven men can be the dumbest and also the most intelligent. I know David my friend has always told me I should have been a guy, but his reasons withstanding, I know I do not have the intelligence that men have. Even the dumbest of all will shock the hell out of you.

I realised they are way wiser than we (women) are. They are cunning, very good at playing on women’s psychology, and sweeping them off their feet without their knowledge. I mean how can someone have a relationship with another and you get find out after a whole daunting six months or year? In the same country? ‘Hitting the mouse’ in the same bed? You and her probably attend the same functions, and share work premises.

My colleague told me all these stories. He has fed me with all the tricks guys use. I do not want fill their shoes but rather guard myself from foolery and its companions. He said his “official” girlfriend knows all corners of his house, where the napkins should be placed and even the ear buds have a particular corner.

When he invites another chick over, he has to mark exactly where his stuff is placed so that when she comes in and “disorganises” the place (you know how girls can want to organise or give themselves chores they haven’t been assigned when they visit), he will at least know where to place them afterwards or the fella will tell her not to touch anything in the room, claiming the laundry lady will come by and organise the place, so the queen shouldn’t worry. He will also rush to put everything that belongs to the main chick away.

Denis said to avoid misunderstandings with the main chick and going through the trouble of re-arranging the house, others are naturally disorganised. Each time you visit, you will find smelly socks on the kitchen sink, shoes on the couch, cutlery in the bathroom sink and books all over the bedroom floor. The bedroom is literally his laundry basket. And poor you will think dude is just untidy. You are obviously not playing with a full deck.

I know at the mention of take-away, we all get excited. We want food from Javas and all those posh food places, yet the man is trying to avoid you littering his kitchen in the name of cooking because if you left utensils dirty then official bae would come and ask questions such as: “When did you learn how to prepare rice and deep-fry beef?” Surprise him on a random weekend and you will find him mingling posho and having beans boiling in another corner.

The story is different when he visits your place. He will want you to cook “good food”, and empty your bottle of wine or whisky. There is no “take-away” jazz here.

Now I believe my friend Steve when he says he must have a threesome before he dies. It is very possible. A naughty girlfriend will not mind having another chick share him; no indeed. What would hurt her is knowing the two have been having sessions in her absence. That’s how foolish we can get.

Now someone is about to ask me what will happen after I have gathered picked enough brains from the guys. In a nut shell, I will pile the information in one corner of my room, and when I finally start dating, I will not be fooled. I will be alert and use each of them to ask questions or play dumb, and my prayerful mother will sing praises to her God when I finally walk down the aisle, someday.

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