With palms caressing the wheels in an almost imperious yet confident manner of one who is no longer addled or manacled by the proclivities of life, 50-year-old Esther Musila chuckled gleefully as she heard show hosts trade genial banters over the radio in the morning.
As she cruised to work, a song played that she could not shake off. The words climbed the walls of her mind and clung to her soul. A widow left with three children, the lyrics lanceted festered wounds and palpated pain deeply etched. The song was ‘Rada’, one of the hits by Gospel virtuoso, Guardian Angel. She called the radio host (a friend) and asked about the artiste. But she was too intrigued to be content with just a name, she wanted a meet-up as well.
My fecund mind can only imagine their first date, which they have both denied was not a date as they ‘were not looking for love.’ The pulchritudinous Musila assaulting Peter Omwaka (his birth name) with her killer figure, arresting him with an assured gaze, enthralling him with her eloquence, reeling him with an aura of maturity and a scent of independence and confidence.
Damn, I’m averse to hackneyed phrases but yes, one thing led to another and viola, a couple of days ago, the couple jumped the broom. Yap, 34-year-old Guardian let loose his tear duct as he emotionally said I do to Musila, 52. The online frenzy that followed was ludicrous. Red pill opinions went head-on collision with sentiments from feminists and here is why.
You see dear reader, while world geniuses have been able to conjure answers to some of the most intricate phenomena including exploring Mars as an alternative dwelling planet, one question still lingers, “What exactly do women want?” Men on the other hand are known to be simple beings, or so it is believed.
Men across the ages have ostensibly been inured to cars with less mileage and women who have stared at as few ceilings as possible. That is why virginity was hallowed in years of yore.
Youth is attractive. Explains why the male eye will dilate at the sight of the long-striding girls in their teetering heels and climbing skirts, and seek to circle their arms around these frolicsome beauties as they toss their foreign hair and flash teeth whose whiteness have been exaggerated by a red matte lipstick.
The notion is that younger women have energy and vitality, are more optimistic, less cynical and come with negligible baggage. And that if you are over 22 and still single, crawl under a rock and await the sword of Damocles to fall. No, I did not say that.
The touted order is that women harbour inveterate proclivities towards the older, wiser alpha male. Well, last I checked, most modern young women will go for anything, including a Pangolin as long as it has dollars neatly tucked under its keratin scales.
Cougar craze might be a thing in the Western world; Halley Berry, Madonna, Mariah Carey, Demi More, Taraji. Henson, Gabrielle Union, Kris Jenner and other hordes of celebrities might have openly embraced their sugar mama inclinations, but back here, it elicits as much thrill as public defecation.
At least it did, but it would seem the intensity of the frown is waning. Renowned journalist Allan Namu is married to an older woman, Akothee cannot get enough of younger Nelly Oaks, Pastor Pius Muiru is younger than his wife Lucy Muiru, Bahati and Marua’s example sounds bland in my mouth but hey, they have surmounted the slights and continue to thrive. And of course Guardian Angel and Esther and many others not in the public limelight.
Truth is, young men are increasingly getting exasperated and tired of the cheapened and commodified girls, habitually eager to publicly display thighs and belly like an excited kitten longing to be tickled. These blokes now seek the company and conversation of women with wit and life experience. Because there is such an avalanche of nudity that men now appreciate that the less you show, the more you stimulate the imagination.
They are unearthing that what lurks behind that wrinkle under the eye or bag of mouth of that 45 or 50-year-old woman is not just sunken skin but the knowledge of life. For a woman who has found herself cannot be withered by age. And in her clutch of experience is a variety of seductiveness. Yes, the years might have left their traces on her, but she is riper in her decisions and sense of judgement.
An older woman does not need to gyrate to Amapiano, with an endless life of party to prove her allure. Time has made her more demure and affable too, tempered and reserved. Her voice is lower, her culinary skills refined and bedroom wherewithal? Ha, is that you Kamasutra.
While we are busy setting fake standards and admiring the lifestyles of mannerless tarts on Instagram called socialites, as we get inebriated in the stench of our own folly, imbibing on gossip like fools in the name of ‘tea’, balancing on heels taller than our morals, random sleepovers with bags that carry everything apart from decency, quaffing liquor with the expertise of sailors when we cannot prepare a decent meal even if our lives depended on it; gyrating on Tik Tok and feeding on misleading garbage from feminists, the older women are taking our mates.
And I love it. Because when we are finally left at the mercies of older men ravaged by arthritis and tools that need jump-starting (sic), then perhaps we will learn our lessons and stop being mediocre. Then we will learn that men are not avenues through which we seek validation and poverty alleviation. Then we can learn to lead lives of purpose and aspire to be more than just mediocre students of tea and weave flipping wenches easily bedded by trips to Naivasha.
Until we have our Damascus moments, may the older women win!
