“Ladies no longer want love and romance. All they want are material things! Money! Money! Money! The other day, I took one out for a nice time. Immediately we got on the bed, she said she wanted to rent an accommodation and needed N500,000. My eager manhood suddenly dropped. It fell asleep! Just look at me. Where would I get such an amount? And that was the first time we would be going to bed together.
“This behaviour has become common among ladies. Even after that lady, I tried another and it was the same thing. In fact, this one started telling me all her problems down to the latest business she wanted to start and the money she needed to start. I was on the verge of pulling off my boxers when she started her tales of woes and needs. The boxers were down and my erect manhood wilted like a dry leaf in Harmattan season. I didn’t know whether to pull my boxers up or down.
“Anurika, you need to talk to ladies. What is happening to them?”
He wore a baffled look. He looked expectantly at me. See me, see trouble o. What does he want me to say? Short of seeking the two ladies out and giving them the third degree, I don’t know the miracle he expected from me.
There were three of us on the day of the discussion.
The sun was scorching.
We sat under the leafy shade of a mango tree, talking about these weird creatures called women.
Now hold on there, I am a woman in every sense of the word! I have received mails from a lot of you guys, saying I’m a man, writing under the pseudonym of a woman.
Just because I sometimes lambast my fellow Eves doesn’t make me a man!
Anyway, as I was saying, my other male friend also had something to say.
Hear him: “She spoilt my weekend for me. We were already in bed, about to get down to the basics where bones meet with flesh in happy wedlock and she started talking of N300,000 for school. For goodness sake! Why did she pick that moment?
“While I was down to my boxers, she had not removed a single piece of her clothing. It dawned on me that she wouldn’t play ball except she gets the money. I told her that I would see what I would do. It was then she began to undress. I lost my desire. My manhood deflated. I picked my clothes and walked out of the room without touching her. That was the first time I took a babe into my bedroom without hammering her.”
They both told me that they respect and cherish ladies who don’t attach a price tag to their honey pot.
Shameless sisters! What has happened to us? Why allow men to call us names? We have to do something and fast too!
Just like I said, it’s not only ladies in brothels that are prostitutes. If you collect money from a man before you allow him a go at your honey pot, what does that make you? Go ahead, think about it.
The terrible thing about having a price tag for your honey pot is the likelihood of the guy being pissed off to ram into you mercilessly.
After he finishes with you, you’d think a horse rammed through your well. Every man likes being loved, but not for what you can get from him.
Before, the one sure way to win a lady’s heart was to wine and dine her. Sometimes take her to the beach and on her birthday, you buy her a gift or flowers.
These days, no man in his right senses would buy a flower for a Naija babe. She would cane his arse silly with the bunch of flowers.
Take her to candle lit dinner for a week without showing some dough and the next outing would find you being rudely burnt by the candle.
Tell her today and tomorrow that you love her, she would smile like it was her due. Tell her the third day and she would snarl: “Na love I go chop?”
Some month’s back, I was on my beat at Oduduwa in Ikeja, Lagos State. There, I met this lady, whom I thought was on industrial attachment with one of the media houses.
She got on my nerves when she started criticising Page 3 girls of The Sun.
She called them whores. Her reason?
ebere20@gmail.com, SMS: 08038465069.