I ’m especially fascinated by women. All ages; woman are all the same yet very different. The young ones walk pompously with an air of entitlement as if working a runway perhaps because they’re at the blooming age and everyone with a trouser is telling them they’re God’s gift to the world.
They don’t know heartbreak—the world is their oyster and sometimes they let the smoke and mirrors chaps feed them go to their heads; they’re often fingering their smartphones chatting up about ten chaps on WhatsApp but somehow end up picking the douchebag, someone with a sneaky smile always looking down their top who screws them over.
Older women are a whole different kettle of fish (That phrase kettle of fish sounds fishy, no?) older women are often well seasoned—above 30 pushing a stable job, they have been through the bumps and potholes of life and they know that things don’t always go your way.
They have come across the jerk and the manipulative nice guy and all they want is a good guy. Someone that’s easy to love, someone they can tell their fears, someone they can grow old with. They’re not haughty like the twenty somethings. They want a man, yes.
But they’re realistic about the man they want because they know men just like life are not perfect. Jovin is a bachelor that means he’s keener on sampling what’s on the shelf than actually buy and he only uses the word “shelf” because one of his lady friends told him that her biggest fear was that she would remain on the shelf long after her friends were married and with families.
He was taken a-back because the lady was young and tender. He was also astonished that there is a shelf full of young and tender things that he hasn’t been acquainted to. The woman is the girlish type and she sometimes hosts sleepovers where there’s booze and they spend the better part of the night gossiping about who is sleeping with whom and who got cheated on.
Whose chap has a big equipment and does he know how to use it and they’ll even share coital positions and how to spice it up. Jovin and the lady friend sometimes meet up and she narrates to him all the things girls talk about in those sleepovers; the lies they love to hear from each other, the sense of belonging that comes with the feeling that they’re in the same boat even though some might have a life jacket.
How women claim they can’t settle for a man who is shorter, earns less, doesn’t own a car and how they’re waiting for their Mr Right, who might only be real in a soap opera—the scalding hot, macho, chivalrous one that makes them giddy with excitement, hardworking, honest and imperfectly-perfect.
While the realist guy is right in within reach but is stashed away in the friendzone. She tells him that as she gets older, she realizes that women don’t necessarily have to lower their standards but might need to adjust them. Because everyone’s perfect man is not necessarily similar.
One girl might want a tall man who buys her gifts, while another wants a short one who is handy, one that takes the trash out & changes burnt bulbs even though it might mean lifting him up on his shoulders so he can get to them. And we all agree, not about the lifting on shoulders bulbs thing but on the imperfectly-perfect man.
I think women grow up being fed this idea of a “perfect man” by everyone and everything around them. Almost every TV show or ad has a male lead who is tall, moneyed, smart, charismatic, sexy and funny and most women grow up believing the hype till their friends start getting married and they’re always the maid at a besties wedding waiting to catch the bouquet.