I must be getting old, despite my unwillingness to relent. I can still drink all night, dance maybe not, but I like to think of myself as a thinker and good company, good music, and good booze makes for a great night. When I was young(er) I thought grownups were retarded when they said ‘your music’ is horrible. Like I am the one in the studio with girly dreadlocks, high on cough syrup sounding like I have c*** in my mouth despite the auto-tune. Yes I did, go tell your daddy, what’s his name, Baby? (What kind of a grown man has another man call him that?)

I try not to be too judgemental. In a perfect world I wouldn’t be judgemental at all but rappers wearing leggings? Come on man! Frank Ocean can wear leggings because he’s…you know… Roki can wear leggings (with his talent you can be all the weird in the world) but a rapper? If that cat Tupac came back he would shoot himself nine times. Why am I complaining about rap music? Because it’s an integral part of Americans who put ‘African’ before their ‘Americaness’ and I am against anything that makes me look bad.
“Why must a woman’s virginity be more important that a man’s?”
There’s a song that’s been bugging me for a while, some pretty boy who claps girls for giving him the clap (apparently) and says whores ain’t loyal. I loathe that song, being the amateur philologist I am I find it meaningless: a whore by definition is an unfaithful woman, a prostitute. Do not confuse types of women, some women are bitches just like some men are dogs, I hate being labelled a dog, and my grandmother is not a bitch. Saying whores ain’t loyal (God, do I have to use that word, even Eminem knows ain’t isn’t a real word!) is like saying ‘these planes fly’ or ‘these drugs make me see purple goblins’ or ‘this government is full of shit’ (it’s a fucking government!).
I didn’t want to say anything, but somebody had to push me from my throne of pretentiousness and calm. So I wrote a Facebook status, ‘Why would you expect loyalty from a whore?’ dear God the descending fury! Someone went ballistic about unmarried girls not being virgins, throwing around loud-sounding-nothings (to paraphrase Metternich) like ‘culture’. Noluthando, my Amazon lady-friend, was quick to the draw, ‘why must a woman’s virginity be more important that a man’s?’
He's a stud, she's a slut
I agree (she’s in another country so it’s not because I am sucking up to get laid). If she’s not a virgin, how did she lose it? Masturbating? It takes two to f***! Why should we brag about how many women we have boned and still expect our wives to be virgins? Why should the soilers judge the soiled? The blade mocks the naked blood. What’s that I hear? A man says he was chaste before his wife? Well sir, how much choice did you have in the matter?
‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’, note, not fornication. Until marriage, your genitals belong to you alone
At the age most people finally settle down, I imagine it’s Guantanamo-Bay-style torture to wait that long for sex. I have met some women who have left me groaning, ‘there’s nothing left in the pipeline’ like the President (Sam, from Chinua Achebe’s ‘Anthills of the Savannah’) and in the words of Wesley Pepper, ‘I can lay my d*** on a block and say’ women are as horny if not hornier than men! When I discovered that I began to cry at funerals, well, only if it’s a virgin’s!
In the twentieth of Exodus (I might be attracting a lightning bolt with this paragraph) God, or Moses and his chisel (I find it hard to believe the guy who created all this in seven days took ‘forty days and forty nights’, on two separate occasions, to write ten sentences on a rock) says, ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’, note, not fornication, because until marriage, your genitals belong to you alone. I think it’s a sin not to use them (responsibly). Remember the parable of the talents? If you don’t use it, it will be taken away and given to the one who uses his well (that explains why mine is 12 inches, yes that’s my story and I am sticking (to) it). That also means if a woman turns thirty and she is still a virgin, she shouldn’t be surprised if it seals up completely. If she so chooses to take the risk let it be her decision, not the dictates of patriarchy.
I hope the woman I will marry (yeah right, okay, let’s keep going for poetic effect) will not be a virgin, I want to settle down with someone when we’ve both seen all there is in the world, but choose each other for eternity.
I have no idea what I was ranting about but let’s close with a poem from Andrew Marvel, well, just the part where he tells the woman he’s wooing how deplorable it would be for her to die a virgin:
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor in thy marble vault shall sound
My echoing song, then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint* honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
*Leroy claims John Eppel claims Marvel used quaint as a euphemism for a word I can’t use.