MANTALK: It’s not easy buying flowers

Question: How do we – Kenyan males – buy flowers? Answer: The way we buy condoms. Allow me to deviate: buying condoms, as most of us have done at some point in our lives, is the most soul-draining thing anyone can put themselves through. There is always a motherly woman standing behind you in the queue as you place your purchase on the till. A motherly figure trying very hard to pretend that she can’t see that you are buying condoms. And she is judging you even though you are an adult and you deserve to have sex. Then, of course, if you are at the supermarket, the till attendants never help you in your quest; they are always leaving it there in full glare of the 100 people behind you to see how responsible, grown-up (and randy) you are. Which doesn’t help anyone, really.

If you are a supermarket teller and you are reading this, here is a tip: the moment a man places the packet of condoms next to the loaf of bread, please run the condoms first and get them off that damn counter fast! Don’t run the load of bread and leave the condoms exposed to the judgmental eyes of the whole world.

The general rule is nobody walks into a supermarket to buy condoms alone, so he must buy something else to make it look like the condom was a secondary purchase. But it never is. You see people buying salt and condoms. Harpic and condoms. Doom and condoms. One apple and condoms. Tea bags and condoms. Success cards and condoms. Omo and condom. Suede cleaner and condoms. It’s painful to watch. Don’t make it any harder for him by taking your sweet time to run the products. I can assure you he doesn’t have the time.

Talking of which, there is nothing liberating as seeing a woman buy condoms with her shopping. Forget women who can reverse park – buying a condom is what true liberation is. It says, “This is in my hands, I’m taking charge and I don’t care what you think.”

BUYING FLOWER AND BUYING CONDOMS ARE THE SAME THING

Anyway, as I was saying, buying flowers and buying condoms are the same thing. They are all marked by discomfort. I don’t know why people can’t just let a black man buy flowers anymore without shooting judgmental looks. Forget the ladies. The ladies are cool. In fact, there is a certain look ladies flash you when they see you buying flowers that is very encouraging. They look at you like you would look at a white unicorn. It’s mostly a look of half admiration, half approval.

The guys? Oh, the guys look at you like you are weak. Or like you sold out. That you are completely whipped. Or naive. There is a certain sympathy that comes with buying flowers that other men accord you.

I once walked through a parking lot bearing flowers and you should have seen the sorry looks men accorded me, like I had sold male secrets to the other side. Some looked at me like I had developed an embarrassing illness, you know the type you can’t share with your parents. Like a boil in the wrong parts.

Some men, on the other hand, look at you with empathy. They assume that you must have done something horrible that earned you a slot in the doghouse, and now you are going the whole nine yards to make up for it. It sucks to be you but because we all stick together, there is always that silent prayer that those sins be forgiven and normality resumes.

But even before you get to the looks, most of us find buying flowers daunting because we only know roses. But roses are boring. Roses are the Toyota of flowers. (No offense, Toyota). They are easy to buy. Outside of roses, most of us are lost. For the longest time I only knew roses, lilies, orchids and carnations. Then I discovered gerbera and the only reason it stuck in my mind is because of the word, “jaber.” But in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter if you know their names or not, I think as long as it’s not a rose, that’s a great step forward.

I admire all the gentlemen who bought flowers this past Valentine’s Day, especially the ones who didn’t buy roses. You deserve a three-gun salute for braving the stares and judgement and for bravely surviving Valentine’s Day.