Motivational talk from where I sit is nothing but verbal gymnastics and gobbledygook from delusional realists. But yes, we can make lemon cider from the lemons Covid-19 has served us.
For aeons, Kenyan wives have complained of lackadaisical conjugal responsibilities from their significant others. In fact, they have literally subpoenaed their hubbies to Judge Maina Kageni, ranted on Kilimani Mums and to any ear that cares to itch.
To be fair to the men, it is hard staying longer than three minutes on a woman who has a sweaty, smelly weave, and who lies still like a mannequin and the only signs of life are her occasional grunts. Besides, three minutes is not such a little time, it took fewer minutes –precisely 91 seconds- for Mike Tyson to floor Michael Spinks.
Well, let us give them the benefit of doubt that their groans were genuine given that the complains have reduced significantly in the midst of the pandemic. It underscores the assertion that human beings are incapable of fundamental change and that only a crisis can force change in human beings.
With curfew, ban on social gatherings and man’s favourite poison, this has inevitably led to hours upon hours spent at home with the missus. It has also led to an increase in the frequency of nocturnal scrums.
If you think I am bluffing, did you see Standard’s screaming header days ago? “COVID Babies: Expectant Kenya Awaits Birth Boom in December.” The article further elucidated that according to a report by the Ministry of Health on the effects of coronavirus on essential health services, there has been an increase in the number of women and girls getting pregnant since March this year when containment measures were effected after the pandemic was reported.
This has been attributed to restrictions of movements, the stay at home directive by the government and a string of other directives from experts culminating with the closure of all schools, churches and all forms of entertainment offered in social places.
On the other hand, I am worried for the husbands. Wives, after hours of watching make-believe nonsense on Netflix, suddenly want to try shower romps. Most. Impractical. Nonsense. Ever. How do you lift her with all that baby fat? Not to mention soap will trickle into your eyes. Then you will argue over the ideal water temperature since women prefer it hotter. Then there’s the risk of slipping on the slippery tiles. Can you imagine escaping heart-attack from biting economic times, being spared the venomous Coronavirus sting only to hit your head on the shower floor because Mama watoto wanted to try what she watched on the 365 days’ movie?
Oh, one other fantasy you should never copy from TV to reality is beach sex. Maan, no matter how romantic they make it look, it is nothing but invasion of sand everywhere. There is no fun in feeling granular grinding your cheeks.
Okay, what I am trying to say is that the curfew might be here with us for a while and the care-givers are busy handling Covid-19 cases not to mention that hospital beds are quite engaged, so there is really no need of being the guy wheeled into the emergency room with locked knees because you were trying the wheelbarrow style.
While at it, now that most of us are working from home, can couples please keep the loud soundtracks of their action contained to the privacy of their bedroom, lounge, kitchen, bathroom or the top of the fridge, wherever the hell they like to have it.
I suspect someone’s saying to themselves right now “lol, spare us your dry spell Aoko.”
No Master, Miss, I am not angry, and for sure am getting some. It’s just that I was recently forced to move to an apartment where I have to take stairs all the way to the sixth floor (The landlord keeps promising to get us a lift) because my previous place sounded like a Spartacus battlefield.
A couple lived in a unit above mine. Every now and then I would have the displeasure of hearing their furniture enduring vigorous activity. Not to mention the agony of my afternoon activities or siesta being pierced not just by mere moans, but screams and loud groans of what I assumed was uncontrollable pleasure.
Now I’m not saying working from home couples shouldn’t have hanky-panky, just don’t wake the entire building in the process. Some ladies can be callous, maybe the prick is just a thumb size and the move to screech too loud is just to let the entire floor know that she was getting some and the rest of us weren’t. It was exhibitionism at its loudest.
Again, I’m no hater. I just don’t think people who live in apartments should be making uncontrolled noises and make neighbours share in their extra-mural activities- that should be reserved for the jungle, it’s like they’re saying: “Hey everybody! We’re making COVID- babies! Enjoy the sounds!”