Wheat and chaff, men and boys

As I pushed a shopping cart into the basement of a shopping mall, a young man quickly walked over to me and offered to help.

It was not too heavy, plus I had pushed it all the way from the supermarket. However, before I could protest, he had already reached for the cart.

“Thank you, you are such a gentleman!” I said, trying to mask my fear. He could have been a criminal for all I knew. As I reached into my handbag for the car keys, I furtively checked around for a security guard.

The young man helped load my shopping into the boot and I thanked him, already feeling guilty for my earlier thoughts about him.

“Ma’am, I am looking for a job,” he said. I gave him my business card and asked him to email me his CV in case I heard about an opening. Less than half an hour later, I got a text message. I was in traffic, so I only checked it once I got home. “Uko msupa tu sana. I don’t mind being ur friend. Ni Peter,” the message said.

 I took a deep breath. Three things did not make sense here.

Either Peter was delusional and sent me a wrong message, or I had sent him the wrong signals, or I was reading too much into his poor grammar. So I called him.

NOT AS CONFIDENT AS SMS

“You just sent me a text,” I said.

“Yea, ni mimi… Peter…” His voice was not as confident as his SMS.

“I believe you were to email me your CV, right?” I said, my voice a notch harsh.

He fumbled for words. He was obviously not expecting me to call. Peter promised to email me his CV but as soon as I disconnected, he sent me a series of texts, apologising for disturbing me, but also telling me that he would like to be my “friend”. I did not respond to his messages until he finally wrote that he could make me very happy if I could be his sugar mummy!

Chariots of Fire.  A musical by Vangelis.  You can find it on YouTube. The song I hum when I feel as if I am about to explode. First of all, I am not yet 40, and that man looked about 26. I am way too young to be his “mummy”, sugar or otherwise. He needed to look further up the age ladder, like above 50. But even then, no woman, whatever her age, is sitting around waiting to spend her money on some lazy man.

 As a matter of urgency, someone needs to guide these young men because some of them are way off the mark. Someone needs to tell them that being a man is sweat and blood. It is hard work and there are no shortcuts.

Someone should tell them that for a man to earn a girl’s respect, nay, just attention, a man must first of all pay his own bills.

He must then learn to put together a charming line to ask a girl out for coffee and once she accepts, he must pay the bill.

That he must never expect anything in return just because he paid the bill.

 Where is that man who can tell these seriously misled young men that life is beautiful and that you can live a long, healthy, and blessed life only if you do not as much as glance at a married woman?  And that if a married woman smiles at you in wrong way? Please run. Run the way Samson should have done, run the way Joseph did.

And if you want to earn your place at the respectable table of men, please show your face to a girl’s folks and take her to your parents’ before expecting any respect or love from