The man without an ego

What will truly kill us, as men, is not our Subarus but our egos. The male ego is like a wild horse: uncontainable.

Our ego stands over us with a large stick and we do its every bidding. We tend to make decisions with our egos: “Ati she wants me to sit and wait for her at her chama? Never!” “I’m not going to go crawling to her brother like a poor-cousin-visiting-from-the-village to ask for a job!” “She wants me to pass by the chemist and buy her tampons? Ati who?”

Opportunities pass us by because we put our egos first. Relationship crumble at our feet because we looked at them through the prism of our egos. But having an ego is not all bad, is it?

An ego ensures that we preserve elements of our manhood. It means we keep a standard — no matter how misinformed. The only thing worse than a man with an ego is a man without standards. But imagine how simple life would be without these large egos we struggle with on our backs.

Which brings me to this guy. This new guy in town. Actually, he has been in town for a while; he has been living with his woman. Wait, that misrepresents him. I meant to say that he has been living at his woman’s. Let us admit it, we all know someone like this. He is one of those guys who say they do biashara but when you think about it, you can never really tell exactly what he does.

There is always a deal they are chasing. A cheque that is coming out tomorrow. A governor they are scheduled to meet for a deal that is going to change their lives. They talk in millions. And they talk fast — so fast that you forget to ask questions. You have to look at their shoes. Their shoes tell more about them than they will ever say about themselves; spit-shone and expensive. They do not wear clothes, they dress up. Immaculately and tastefully. You will smell them from the door.

CONVINCING LEECHES

You will mostly find this guy at one of those big hotel’s bars, like Aksum Lounge at The Stanley, having “tea” and selling an idea to some enthralled mzungu. Look at how he is stroking his iPad. They have the gift of the gab, these men. And it is this gift that gets them to convince women to house them. It is always “temporary”, until “they get back on their feet.”

He is focused, he has a plan. Big money awaits him. Just give him time. That narrative can be stretched for months, even years. Their women buy into the vision because apparently, women can identify success years before it happens. He has managed to override female intuition with promises and big talk. You have to admire that. How can you not? The skill!

So he will live rent-free. I suppose if you are not paying rent you have to be excellent in bed. I mean, you have to bring something to the table that makes it hard to get rid of you, right? And it cannot be a great haircut. I wonder what he does the whole day when the girlfriend has gone to work; lounge around the house in boxers, watching Leverage and doing press-ups until his next appointment?

Talking of which, he does not want employment, of course, because employment is for wimps.

Sometimes the woman will fund his ludicrous business ideas because he sells them so enthusiastically, so infectiously, and she desperately wants him to succeed and to be that woman who was there by his side, who had faith in his dreams. Often, unsurprisingly, those plans turn out to be white elephants; the money is invariably lost, again. A wilted excuse is offered. “Time. Give it time, babe. Don’t you have faith in me?”

ELABORATE MIRAGE

He is a lucky man, this guy. Blessed with the art of manipulation. He gets what he wants and his luck never seems to run out. He gets the woman to pay for his clothes, to give him money for out-of-pocket expenses, give him money to shave and to drink with his friends because she cares about his “reputation.”

He does not know — or care — how much fuel costs because she fuels her car — no, their car. And when he gets in an accident from his drinking sprees, guess who fixes it? Yes, you get a cookie for getting it right. So she keeps funding this elaborate mirage. She keeps funding hope. A hamster-in-a-wheel fiasco.

This guy is fun. Too much fun. He is a storyteller, a masterful entertainer. And he has a big heart. He is a giver (well, it is easy to give a lot when you have not worked for it, no?) You will have a laugh when you sit with him. He is engaging and looks sincere, and you always feel good after a drink with him because he breaks life down into small, digestible morsels.

Some women end up marrying this guy. Some end up marrying a normal guy, then creating this type of guy (this is another article all together). When they get married she ends up paying for everything while he chases the next big thing. And she remains supportive because, well, aren’t wives supposed to be supportive? Isn’t that what the priest said?

Suffice it to say, this guy is my hero. His ability to ignore his ego and live off a woman is beyond comprehension. He has stopped caring or listening to that small voice in us that we, men, listen to.

Maybe that is a good thing.