Today’s rant will be short. Can someone shout a Hallelujah!
It’ll be short because what I’m going to let you in to is precise and to the point. Scoot over, I promise it’ll be worth your read. Especially if you’re a guy, you’d better be gathered around me at this point.
So there’s this new phenomenon from women that’s just come about. It’s called ‘The Female Gaze’.
You’re busy minding your own damn business walking hand-in-hand with your girl in the mall, pleased with yourself that you’ve got a hot babe. In fact, every guy who passes you gives you a head bump cos they can see how fine your chic is, especially her big round nyash. Yeaaa, you’re the man alright. She looks good on your arm. But you know the truth of the matter is that she’s the one who makes you look good.
Then Bam! Just like that, a guy with some big-ass muscles looking like they’re about to rip his shirt off any second from now comes out of nowhere and begins to walk towards you as though he was approaching you.
You notice your chic staring at him. She’s so into him that she doesn’t even realize that she’s cunningly released her hand from your arm.
You see her licking her lips seductively at his guns. You watch her strip him off his clothes with her eyes longingly. Then her eyes drop at his mid-section and your heart drops with her eyes.
He probably packs 8-9 inches, 10 at tops. He probably has girls swooning over him calling him ‘big daddy’. Your girl is smiling like an idiot at this point.
You notice the guy look at your girl’s fertile bosoms. Her hour-glass figure, her small tiny waist, her fat nyash. Your mind explodes. Then you see your chic blush and stare down at the floor, then back towards the nigga.
They’re staring at each other at this point, busy ripping each other’s clothes in their minds. Your head is rolling. You’re LIVID at this point.
The moment passes, and your girl comes back to earth. Her hand finds its way back to your skinny one and now she makes you feel mighty self-conscious.
Did you just witness your own girl prowling over another man?
You contemplate on asking her; scratch that, reprimanding her on her not-so-lady-like behavior.
Then you recall all those times you looked back at other girls’ behinds and she never once spoke on those times. She’d let them all pass. You low-key thank God that your chic isn’t petty like the rest of them and your heart is thankful a little cos she’s a no-drama typa chic.
But your manly ego is going nuts. Naa-aah. You need to teach her a lesson mate, its drilling inside your brain, show her whose the man!
She looks up at you with innocent-looking big eyes and asks if you’re OK.
Hell naw, you’re not. Which guy would be okay with his babe looking at another man, sexually?
Now’s your chance dude, show her whose the man! Your ego urges you on. But you’re feeling frail and scared that she might leave you and run after the Mandingo. That wouldn’t be too good for your look.
I’m Fine. You say, swallowing the bitter saliva that’s been threatening to choke you for the past few seconds; and I love you.
Love you back, she reiterates and looks straight ahead. You both know that she’s thinking of that guy but at this point there’s nothing much any of you can do to save the situation.
Then it hits you that you’ve just beheld the power of ‘The Female Gaze’.