There’s something sexy about a knowledgeable man who speaks passionately about something. That was what attracted me to George. I met him at a party at some point in the night; there was a debate on the global economy, and George schooled everybody in the room. Later, there was a discussion on old-school music, and once again, George sounded well-versed. Listening to him explain his thoughts was a delight. Needless to say, I was eager to exchange numbers with him.
We shared a love for whiskey and contemporary music, and we’d talk about the two for hours. The intense phone conversations soon turned into frequent meet-ups. Soon enough, we moved from the talking stage to a relationship.
I liked many aspects of George, but I didn’t quite like his traditional ideas on women. He’d often give opinions about women that I would find wanting.
“My woman has to cook for me,” said George.
“What happens if she’s busy?” I asked him.
“Unless she’s sick, it’s her duty to take care of me,” he responded.
While it bothered me a bit, it wasn’t a big deal because I enjoy cooking, so I let it go. Soon after, I began meeting his friends. They spoke with so much bravado. Most of the time, the friends came together with women who were catered to in terms of bills, but it was also common for the men to send the women to pick jackets and such items from their cars.
“Mamaa has to ensure her man is okay,” said one of George’s friends after sending the woman he was with to pick up his jacket and power bank from the car.
“You’re paying all the bills so it’s the least she could do,” another one added. The rest agreed with the sentiments.
That conversation stuck with me, but I didn’t discuss it with George. I convinced myself that the women seemed okay with the arrangement, so I had no reason to argue that the men were being sexist.
George attended a party at one of their friend’s houses a few weeks later. I wasn’t available for the party, but George communicated with me for most of the night. We texted back and forth, and then he stopped responding. Later he would tell me that there was some drama. He promised to tell the story face-to-face when we’d meet.
We went for a coffee date at a restaurant we wanted to try. It was time to catch up and enjoy each other’s company.
“Babe, you were to tell me about the drama from the other night,” I told him.
“Yesterday things were thick!” He said.
“Why? What happened?” I asked him.
“So one of my boys, Martin, came with his main girlfriend. Apparently, she earlier in the week she discovered that he had been cheating on her for a while. They talked about it and the girl decided to stay and work things out. So they came and then the girl had a bit to drink and I think the anger resurfaced. She began hurling insults at my boy, Martin. The girl went after the size of his manhood and pocket too. She also said that there were men chasing after her.”
“Really? That sounds so intense!” I remarked.
“That’s not even the best part,” said George.
“Oh, there’s more? What did Martin do?” I asked.
“There was a second bedroom in the house where we had the party, Martin took the girl and pulled her into that room. He locked the door and then took out his belt and gave that girl a thorough whooping.”
“What? What did you guys do?” I asked George.
“The boys and I were waiting for them to settle the matter. She was given a good ass-whooping such that she was quiet for the rest of the night. Martin would say jump and she would ask how high. After that beating she was put in her place,” said George with a smile.
I was in shock.
“You let your friend beat up a woman without trying to stop him?” I asked him.
“No, those are marital affairs and you don’t interfere with such things. Secondly, that girl needed to know who’s boss in that relationship,” responded George.
“I can’t believe my ears. George, you think what he did is okay?”
“Women need to be put in check every so often. He was ruining his image with her actions and he reminded her that he was the head in that relationship.”
“So you would beat me up if you felt like I was embarrassing you?” I asked him.
“Well, I wouldn’t beat you but I would put you in your place,” George responded.
“I can’t believe you think beating up a woman is okay.”
“The women from older generations knew how to behave because the men put them in their place. Martin should be given an award for guarding his masculine frame,” said George as he sipped his drink.
My belly was churning, and I suddenly got this urge to throw up from disgust. At that moment, I knew I couldn’t continue seeing the guy. I couldn’t believe he didn’t see the problem with his friend’s behaviour. In fact, his friends also sat down and cheered on their boy, Martin, as he physically abused that girl.
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