Standards, Simps & the Scam of Superiority — Live from Makutano

 

An illustration of ladies having fun moments.  Photo/The Standard. 

Petoo my people wa Makutano, Meru!

Or as our Nollywood brothers and sisters shout when someone tries nonsense: “God forbid! Tufiakwa!” That’s the level of disgust I’m on today. Not emotional heartbreak. Not unpaid chama debt. I’m talking deep internal choking — the kind that even three cups of strong Meru tea can’t clear.

Today, I write not just as a man, but as a village representative — appointed by ancestral spirits and committee of common sense — to address this madness we’re calling “standards.” Yes. STANDARDS.

Apparently, this word has been hijacked by vibes and Wi-Fi. Somewhere between TikTok and a motivational meme, the concept of standards morphed from basic personal preferences into a glorified entitlement manifesto. And now, even in Makutano, where men chew miraa and build dreams on boda backs, the dating economy is crashing — not from inflation — but vibeflation.

Let me explain.

There I was, sitting outside my favorite joint near the Stage, sipping tea thicker than loyalty. I had just finished reflecting on my life, bills, and why my crush always replies "hehe" but never "hi." Then boom — I overheard a conversation that nearly knocked my tea out of my hand.

One girl, fresh from an afternoon of snapping filtered selfies, said, “Mi siwezi date mtu hana gari. Kama hauna gari, unanionaje?” My brothers, that statement hit me deeper than a slap from a miraa debt collector. You mean me — a hustler, a visionary, a man of letters and leaked Wi-Fi — I’m automatically disqualified from the dating race because my ride is a boda and my fuel is motivation?

At that moment, something inside me broke. Not my heart — that one broke in 2017. But my tolerance. I realized we’ve been feeding cows that are being milked by other herders. Treating strangers like queens while they treat us like emergency exits. All in the name of “standards.”

And yet, these same people setting Mount Kenya-level standards bring nothing but attitude and vibes. Some of them can’t even spell "communication" without autocorrect. Others have no ambition beyond Instagram comments and updated nails every market day. One girl told me she can’t settle for anything less than a six-figure man. I asked her what she does. She said, “I’m a vibe.” I said, “Then go vibe with Safaricom.”

Let me make it clear, I’m not against women having expectations. That’s healthy. But if your entire personality is built around what you want and not what you offer, that’s not a standard — that’s a scam. A pyramid scheme dressed in perfume and bad grammar.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not bitter. In fact, I’m one of the most romantic men north of Nkubu. I’ve walked in the rain just to see a girl who later told me, “We’re better off as friends.” I’ve sent airtime, M-Pesa, even bought supper for someone who was only using me as a step towards her real boyfriend. But you know what? I took it like a man. I’ve been through heartbreaks that would kill a weaker man — but I survived. I’ve healed. And now I’m speaking.

Ladies, if you want love, bring love. If you want peace, bring peace. If you want a king, act like a queen — not a tax collector in a wig.

Let’s normalize mutual effort. Relationships shouldn’t feel like one party is running a full-time customer care desk while the other sends “wyd” texts with no intent to build. Men are tired. Especially in Meru, where a man can fix your roof, plough your shamba, install Wi-Fi, and still be told he lacks "vision."

And please, let’s stop using gender as a form of superiority. I am a man. A flawed one, yes. I don’t open car doors because I don’t own a car. I don’t pay for weekend brunches at posh joints because, frankly, I’m still trying to clear my Fuliza. But I bring loyalty. I bring wisdom. I bring consistency. And sometimes I bring boiled maize too. Because that’s what partnership looks like in real life.

The idea that a man must be rich, emotionally perfect, funny, tall, muscular, financially stable, soft yet firm, silent yet romantic — all while the lady brings looks and a pout — is madness. That’s not dating, that’s applying for a job in heaven.

And for the record, I’m not angry. I’m just real. And if real hurts, then so be it. Because sugar-coating truth is how we ended up with people who think “I deserve the world” is a personality trait.

So I said it. What most Meru men whisper while chewing miraa under a tree, afraid to offend the sisterhood of the sacred standards. I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to restore balance. Because intelligence without humility, and beauty without brains — is a dangerous combination.

To the good ones — the ladies who understand partnership, effort, respect — may your tribe increase. To the rest?

Please don’t bring “queen energy” when your only contribution is drama, delusion, and disappearing airtime.

This is Makutano. We work hard. We love hard. And now?

We speak hard.

Keeping it real from the streets to the shags.

Yours in truth and miraa,

The Village King Who’s Done With Vibeflation.

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About the Author

Felix Kinyua is a communications strategist, freelance journalist, and unapologetic village philosopher from Meru. With a background in media, public policy, and storytelling, he uses humor and satire to unpack the complexities of modern life. When he’s not writing, you’ll find him somewhere between a good conversation and a strong cup of tea — always keeping it real.