Super fine men.
Men in Ghana. There are those who ask me to marry them; there are those who declare their love for me before even saying good morning; there are those who ask me to dance; then there those with majestic black coats and long white tails who mostly ignore me. Everyday at 7am I sit down to (or stand, or fantically dash around) an eight-hour episode of my favourite soap opera, revolving around the life of 10 super fine men from this latter category. I observe as to how strong they are, how well they look after their children, and how many women they are sleeping with at once. I have a team of employees assembled for the purpose of meticulously recording this information. At least once a day I demand that my employees ‘find me another man!’.
This week there is a new category of men in these woods (or should I say man?); no long black coat, no white tail, does enjoy dancing, does love me. Without disrespecting those tailed sort, this super fine man is indeed my #1. Yes, he is finally here. Yes, I am filled with glee.
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