Dear God, where are our men? What we now have are a bunch of sissies competing for manicures

Who carries the burden of this atrocity? Liberalism, Modernity or Education? Since everyone blames the Opposition boss even for their erectile dysfunction, could this be his fault?

What the hell am I talking about? Well, hello, I am hemming and hawing over when men were actually men! Days when men would rub soap over their bodies and walk around with bushy armpits. When blokes strutted around with that perceptible masculine odour that was a cocktail of sweat and testosterone, one that was able to get any woman throbbing as it wafted into her nostrils.

Whatever happened to these proper offsprings from their fathers’ loins? What we now have are a bunch of sissies who wear skinny, coloured jeans that are so tight they literally stifle the conglomeration of ‘future generation’ on their loins.

Let us get something straight even as we progress with this discourse, no one is suggesting that women like macho pigs. No sane female wants to go back to the yore days of soul-sapping machismo.

But why the hell are men now donning piercings? Why the hell are they not wearing the same pair of jeans for several days? Why are you competing with your women in booking appointments for facials, manicures or pedicures, though of course, an occasional massage is good for the body? The media aiding capitalist consumerism and by using celebs like David Beckham have sold the metrosexual thing that has men across the globe buying face creams and discussing the benefits of anti-oxidants.

It is sad that being funny or smart as a man no longer counts, so the script is hitherto designed to get men to buy stuff so that they can convince girls to sleep with them. Oh, so now we are competing on the alleys of stores for moisturizers, lotions, balms, salts, peels or wraps to keep a fine glow about our skin – gasp! Sin of sins! I don’t trust men who spend hours each week on their looks, there’s something mildly creepy about it. Most tend to be a bunch of ignoramuses anyway and the only cerebral wherewithal they vaunt is distorting grammar and tweeting mundane, shitty hashtags all day.

Lol, hiding behind a keyboard like some sissy to troll strangers then go back to grab your loins and feel the girth fill your hands is not what makes a man. No wonder your role models are the Justin Biebers and Otile Browns.

Listen, on behalf of the larger African women, please, we are petitioning for the return of the real ebony men now on the verge of extinction. We want back the rugged guys who stared women in the eyes, had beards and did not sit in fast foods every other day to gobble junk and end up with bigger bums than ours.

We do not care if you are not pristine, we do not want ‘cute’ men! God forbid. Be like your fathers dear ‘Jaydens’, they did not sit, legs crossed at the salon waiting to be pampered. You can take the pain of a tweezer but cannot take the pain of a blue tick? Away with this lackadaisical breed that is too lazy to even text properly, it pains my eyes and the pain reverberates to my bones and soul every time I see a 20 something-year-old writes ‘hae, hy, hiz,’ one strains to comprehend what they are saying in their poorly scripted messages, not to mention that two hours into ‘knowing each other, they are asking for nudes; a stark contrast to the days when men would scribble palatable, savoury, flowery paragraphs to the women their hearts beat for.

Find them hurdled in juvenile WhatsApp groups created to share nudes, discuss women, soap operas and gossiping; they spend their days ogling, chasing skirts online and plotting fickle ways of rising. They eschew the long yet stable route way of hard work.

Okay, Metrosexual dude, what’s next, waxing your pubic hair, twerking, sipping beer through wine glasses? Just what else is there to do as you continuously blur the line between you and your fathers?