Fighting The Process Of Elimination
Part of the ‘perks’ of having close friends is conversing about and observing the triumphs and pitfalls of their courting of women. Between my boys I have seen it all (pause); from the silent handshake of approval between two friends after a victorious wingman tactic, to the E Honda slap and Cranberry Juice stained shirt a friend received for taking it a step too far with a woman who wasn’t interested. Most have been memorable for one reason or another but this past pitfall, subject of a friend had me scratching my head, well it wasn’t so much the friend, more the woman and her reason for rejection.
Let’s rewind back to Feb 18th 2012…
Our friend had thrown a house party for her bday; the vibe was good, drinks were flowing, the food was on point and the women?…lets just say either the Grey Goose had kicked in really early or every woman in there was on par with Nia Long…ok it was the Grey Goose. Anyway as I was talking to a Nia Long and about to drop my “I write a blog” line, my friend elbowed me. He had spotted a girl from across the
room who was staring at him intensely like half-price louboutins and wanted me to be a second witness to this so he didn’t think he was going mad; indeed she was fixated on him and I suggested he goes to speak to her. He refused as her stare was too intense and so wasn’t sure if she was attracted to him or was the vengeful sister of one of his ex ‘acquaintances’.
Fast forward a couple of hours, the drinks were running out fast, all that was left was apple sours, nearly finished Malibu and one untouched bottle of red wine….there is always one untouched bottle of red wine. At most house parties where you’re asked to bring a bottle you will always have that one person who brings a bottle of red wine; this person usually has made no effort to purchase from the shop, no intention of drinking said wine and has picked it up from the wine cabinet/rack located in the kitchen/living room of their house…..that person on this particular day was my friend. So when the host called out to find out who brought this travesty of a party drink with a design on the front that made it look like cooking wine, he braved the situation and admitted to it loud and clear with a little joke, everybody laughed, more importantly, the girl who was starting at him from across the room laughed. There was his opening.
For the rest of the night he and the girl spoke, laughed, debated, flirted etc, they had a lot in common (well they were both Nigerian) and eventually exchanged numbers. For the next week and a half they spoke on the phone near enough every day and were taking full advantage of the honeymoon stage. Other than Skype they had yet to see each other since the party as she was working in Glasgow with a client for her company but the chemistry was in no doubt. Finally her work was done and she was back in London; and he offered to cook a meal for the both of them at his house to which she obliged.
Later that evening, he put his Vapianos observation skills to the test and mustered up an array of dishes for her to try, along with the untouched bottle of red wine….he’s resourceful you see. As expected she loved it and was impressed; as they had dessert they both delved into the many things they had in common (Nigeria) and it was at that point when things changed.
Two words “I’m Yoruba”
Never had I known a brother’s stock to plummet so fast in the mind of a woman from such harmless words. Now for those who don’t know, Yoruba is a tribe of people in Nigeria from which many of your Nigerian friends may derive from, they have their own language and culture differences, as do other Nigerian tribes. Another tribe of people in Nigeria is Igbo; now Yorubas and Igbos aren’t quite the Crips and Bloods of Africa but their rivalry is obvious which probably derives from previous years of true dislike between the tribes back in Nigeria (anyone who wants to give me a history lesson is welcomed to). My friend was Yoruba, this girl was Igbo and for that reason and THAT reason alone, she wasn’t feeling the boy, she feeling, she feeling the boy him anymore, she was distant after that and at least let him know why.
When he told me this story, I scratched my head; Its weird because I understood the concept of her wanting to maintain culture and continue it through marriage, children, family etc but what was so grand in the cultural side of the argument simultaneously felt small as he wasn’t given a chance due to two words. I mean damn they’re both Nigerian, the differences in tribes aren’t that substantial…are they? It’s tough out there for a single brother (and sister); in addition to looks, personality, religion, race, skin-tone, wealth in some cases, country etc some of us have to also contend with tribes too? You’re killing us people! The process of elimination is deep, nobody should settle for anyone they don’t want but opening up might give better options. That being said I will never open up to any woman who owns open toe leopard print wedges….
Happy International Women’s Day (where’s our day though?)
Ladies and Gents what’s your thoughts on the story? Was the woman harsh to let a good brother go? To my Igbo and Yoruba followers do you feel the same? What are your thoughts on the process of elimination? Speak on it!
PS: I’M NOT TRYING TO INCITE A WAR ON HERE BETWEEN IGBOS AND YORUBAS BY THE WAY, USE THAT AGGRESSION ON THE KONY MOVEMENT