Something to call my Own
What I really need this Valentine. A large Garden with lots of fruitage like Adam. That's all.

Slain United States rapper Tupac Amaru Shakur sang in Happy Home, "so please understand if I change at times it's all because I never owned anything that's mine".

This thing about ownership is actually one of my favourite topics when I'm bored on weekends. Some of my friends are unapologetic about chicks who date them because of what they have as material instead of the eight inch spear under their boxers. It has reached a point whereby even if a dude lost a chick because he couldn't measure up he would be quick to plead poverty as the trigger at realising that he lost his flame to that chap who drives a black Camero that's always parked at the Caltex Building office complex.

Usually I tell my folks, 'love is good if it can put food on the table. If it can buy your chick's smile even during PMS and if it can put a roof over her head'. Add to that if it can take her our and satisfy her at Temptations.

But then we all know that love is handicapped in those departments. Then the big question is; if you are always stressing that chicks always chase after material, pause right there and trade places. Would you date a broke chap if you were a chick? Would you take off your Victoria's Secrets lingerie for a chap who is so broke he can't even pay attention?

Someone who'll be prodding you with extra-thick-less-sensitive Choice condoms wrapped like buscuits but smelling like Vaseline Blue Seal? No ways man; even now I'm not that choosy but I don't do broke chicks. What more if I was a chick then? Broke muthafucka? Hell no! get yourself a J.O.B dog and I can proudly be your bitch and bend forward!

Interesting that material has become the new social barometre. I miss those Medieval times when only brave men who have killed a lion or any dangerous beast were the ones afforded conjugal rights. Today even godzillas with potbellies as big as Saartjie Baartman's ass get laid without effort due to their BEE status.

For what it's worth chicks must not only rely on men to provide while they spend days shopping. To tell you the truth, that left front passenger seat is not the most comfortable in that sedan. It's only cushy when you know you can swop it for the driver's the minute mineowner tells you 'you ain't nuthing but a golddigga'.

Psychologists allege that it's food for a guy's self-esteem to pay for everything a chick wants at the mall. They forget to say that it's food for an empty guy's self-worth. Some of us feel offended when the first words off a chick's lips are 'airtime' or 'do my hair'. While I won't care booking you for a facial, manicure and pedicure I need to know that you can afford to pay for yourself if I wake up unable to. Recording artist 50cent asked, 'if i fell off tomorrow will you still love me/ if i didn't smell so good would you still hug me?', while Dogg Pound's Kurupt of 'you can't make a whore a housewife' fame asked, 'are you fucking my car or my dick?'.

Finally Tupac said, 'make money get pussy always keep a pager/ cellphone on the ride to complete my nature'. I hope you lovers are listening.

Hypothetically, please share your thoughts with me; Do you honestly think that Eve would have gone out with Adam if he didn't own a garden and everything in it?

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