Opinion: All that Jazz about Stingy Men’s Association of Nigeria

 

 

 

I have just been consulted to become the National Grand Patron of the newly formed Stingy Men’s Association of Nigeria (SMAN).

Of course I promptly turned down the offer knowing that the formers of the association ought to have named it Broke Boys Association of Nigeria (BBAN)!
A boy who is dead broke can never claim to be stingy because he had no dough to croak about in the first instance.

The boys who are so broke such that they can’t get babes are complaining bitterly that the fastest sea route to the ocean of a lady’s heart is good old cash.

According to them, with cash in the pocket, a jumping monkey can in fast seconds turn into a dashing charmer of a heartthrob before the eyes of the fair lady.

One can understand the anger of the “broke boys” given the current case of the self-advertised billionaire whose face looks like that of Ikwiikwii the Woodpecker who is on the 7th missionary journey of marrying off his 7th beautiful virgin bride.

Well, if for instance, Chief MKO Abiola had formed a stingy men’s club in his lifetime, the ladies would have had great reasons to mourn greatly.

MKO was a cheerful giver – doxology!

The guys claiming to be stingy these days actually need cash gifts and palliatives to survive and keep their wretched bodies and souls together. .

Claiming to be stingy is the art of an artful dodger running from his responsibilities such as marriage, family support and feeding siblings.

The strategy of these losers can be summed up thusly: When you cannot capture a lady, claim to be stingy.

This amounts to the old art of dying in silence. Maybe these guys should be referred to the legendary Doctor Mbamaonyeukwu who in the days when men were he-men posed the immortal poser: “Why die in silence?”

If they do not want to die in coital silence, poverty-stricken guys should start thinking out of the box on how to capture women instead of just claiming to be stingy.

A smart poor guy can win the ladies as illustrated by the story of a young lad who at the turn of last year came to Lagos hoping to get a job as a banker.

He put up with and uncle who happened to be one of the more visible bankers in the social circuit.

The trouble was that the uncle knew that the young lad writes poetry and keeps the company of poets such as yours truly who unapologetically are not bankable.

Uncle would not secure the job for months on end believing that his nephew was too unserious for the banking business; but quite suddenly he had to travel to London for one executive course or whatever.

With the entire house and car in his custody, poor nephew dressed up in his uncle’s best suit and hopped into the car with the driver in tow and made a stop in a bank I would not name here.

All the girls trooped after him and he assured them that he would deposit so much money as would meet all their targets!

He brought out his mobile phone, while the girls hung to his every word, and chatted with his mates named “Aliko, Femi, Jim, Tony etc” and mentioned millions and billions of every currency imaginable.

His uncle’s house has since been turned into a hotel of sorts for the serial lady-killer, and one wonders how this story will end when the uncle comes home from abroad.

The guy on ground – let’s call him Nwaguy – is however not worried, knowing that the targets he has met thus far in getting fine with beautiful girls he could only have dreamed of would be worth all the troubles on Planet Earth!

Nwaguy had a hearty laugh when he heard of the forming of the stingy women association that bears the sign of ladies crossing their legs and refusing to open them for horny men.

“Dead on arrival!” he screamed, laughing out loud. “Just flash the promise of a handful of banknotes and the legs will open – ever so softly!”

“Akika!” That’s Papa Ajasco of Ikebe Super screaming in the other room.
Nwaguy has promised to do the rounds of all the banks in Lagos before the return of his uncle.

I have since warned my young niece working in one of these banks to be on guard before the advent of this non-member of any stingy men’s association!

Nwaguy does not have any cash whatsoever but his female captives are forever entrapped by the hope of his promise of making a huge deposit some Monday for sure.

Nwaguy teaches that once the trappings around you ooze fortune, you can make a kill in the female department!

I guess that’s what Marshall McLuhan meant when he wrote: The medium is the message!