As a scientist, man banks on proven facts, but as a man, there’s no bank of information; only bonk for pleasure, writes GARDY CHACHA
I’m a man; and a scientist too. That makes me a ‘scientific man’, which sounds like a lethal mixture. But no, I’m not lethal — at least in its conventional meaning. What I am is a human machine in blood and flesh, with male testosterone cascading in my veins.
Apart from thinking and churning out data to explain different aspects of the jargon that is science, there’s nothing else that really ignites my grey matter to make the connection — that my mother was good at linking, between the gluteal and the cerebral cortex.
So, after a night of passion with Taina (that name reminds me of Taenia the bloody parasite), she couldn’t believe that I took the encounter as just that — an encounter. We met in the dim lights of an overnight carouse when the din of music playing only allowed our eyes and fingers to communicate.
As the eyes and fingers negotiated hills and valleys of God’s creation, the drive of nature took its own course, which eventually took us through the streets of Nairobi via a lingerie shop (that marked the point of no return) to a hotel room where, many of you would say we did something, but methinks nature did us a huge favour.
We men are humans, but men&searchbutton=SEARCH'> wo men don’t see that. Taina spent the night with me, but I can promise you, innocently, it wasn’t a mistake. There’s no way it could be a mistake because if we both didn’t benefit, at least no one was harmed. I find it very mind boggling that we spent a night relishing, barely covered, but still she couldn’t understand me.
I could explain what happened between us in a whole thesis chapter, fully dotted and complete with the chemical pathways and molecules involved, which is why I find it highly unlikely that she can’t describe me as a man.
All the same, I gave her some benefit of doubt. Humans are a species, which implies we’re animals; we live by instinct. Though we have an added advantage of reasoning, instinct is correlated to our genetic material while reasoning is, for example, what I do when I’m analysing a new discovery.
Taina wants to “know me more”, but I’m worried she might never learn anything if she maintains the same pace of knowing man as a coded creation.
As a scientist, I bank on proven facts; but as a man, there’s no bank of information; only bonk for pleasure. This is no ping-pong game. Want to know the secret!
Think like a man act like a lady. However, the first step to knowing a man is to be born one. That means if you are who I think you are, you have no clue.
