I think someone needs to explain the concept of “Going Dutch” to some of our ‘Ndi woke Nigerian men’.
Because, I really don’t understand why a fully grown man will call someone’s daughter and tell her that he wants to take her out on a date, and at the end date expect the girl to bring out her purse and pay, all in the name of Going Dutch.
- Going Dutch is a term that indicates that each person participating in a group activity pays for themselves, rather than any person paying for anyone else, particularly in a restuarant bill. It is aliso called Dutch Date, Dutch treat and Going Dutch.
I met Dokubo through a mutual friend of ours at an event, a few months back.
“Meet my friend Ykayy” Kcee said. “Ykayy is a feminist. Ykayy, meet Dokubo. Dokubo is an anti-feminist”
Laughing to himself, he stepped aside.
Apparently, before I got there, they were talking about Feminism, Chimamanda, and the “Men shouldn’t hold doors for women” statement she allegedly made.
The guys were spewing lots of trash about Chiamanda, ‘daughters of Chimamanda’ (which appparently is the new tag used to describe young female Nigerian feminists), and feminism. Dokubo was the most vocal of them all.
At first, I wasn’t going to join in the conversation. I’ve learnt
So I just kept quiet and listened to all the stuff they were saying, shaking my head at how unbelievably misogynistic and ignorant they sounded.
Then, Dokubo drew me in.
“I’m even surprised Ykayy allowed Kcee to vacate his seat for her. You are a feminist right? Are we not all equal? Isn’t that what you guys preach? Why should a guy vacate his seat for you because you are a woman? Afterall, Chimamanda you mother, has said men should not open doors for you.” He said.
“It’s pretty simple” I said. “I am Kcee’s guest. I am here at his his invitation, and as such, I should be treated with great courtesy.”
“I’m not even understanding. You mean you’ll invite someone’s daughter to come visit you, and then you leave her standing when she eventually comes visiting?
So if I were a guy, who came to visit you based on the invitation you extended to me, you wouldn’t vacate your seat for me?” I asked incredulously.
“Na true sha. Dah wan sef dey. You are a guest afterall.” Dokubo said.
And then he asked what I thought about Chimamanda’s goof.
“Goof?” I asked.
“I don’t think she goofed” I said.
She never said men shouldn’t open doors women. Wait, have you actually seen the video?”
He admitted that he actually hadn’t seen the video.
“I thought as much” I said.
“But Eyin daughters of Chimamanda, What are you guys fighting for sef? What is feminism?”
“Oga Ade, bi google now” was the retort that first came to mind, but I thought it was rude to say that out loud, so I just kept quiet.
To cut the long story short, we parted that evening on a very cordial note, exchanging numbers.
Every once in a while, he would call me or chat me up and ask how I was faring and stuff. Then this past weekend, he called me up as per usual. After the usual exchange of plesantries, Dokubo asked what my plan for the rest of the evening.
“Eat, Read, Sleep.” I said without hesistation.
“Ouch!” He started, “Can I tempt you to change your mind?”
“Hmmmn ….. What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Let me take you for dinner.”
I haven’t actually gone out on a date since like forever, plus I had this beautiful blue jumpsuit I had just gotten from an instagram vendor.
“That’d be cool.” I said.
So we agreed to meet around 7pm.
Ladies, Gentlemen and Transgenders, you need to have seen me that night. Jeez! I was looking like a solid bag of gold. If I was food, I would have been a bowl of ‘Finger licking sumptous Nigerian jollof rice served with plantain and spicy peppered Chicken. My melanin was popping, my red lipstick was the bomb, and my highlighting was enough to blind my enemies.
“You look absolutely smashing!” was what Dokubo said when he saw me.
It was a pretty cool date. The food was to die for, the ambience of the restaurant was lit, and the conversation wasn’t bad at all. We talked about almost everything and anything.
Everything was going pretty well until the waiter brought the bill after clearing the bill.
“Bring your POS and split the bill in half. We are going Dutch.” Dokubo told the waiter, after studying the bill.
“Dutch? I don’t understand. Going Dutch bi ti bawo? Igbawo ni emi ati e jo so iyen? When did we agree that we would be going dutch on this date?” I asked.
“Kekekekekekeke keke keke” Onku Dokubo burst out laughing.
“Are you not a feminist?” I thought Y’all are for gender equality? Why then should I pay your bill? Just because you are a woman? No now. Or are you going to denounce feminism because of ordinary bill?” He asked.
“Ha! Jesu oko ijo o! Se mi o ti ko eran mo ero bayii nitori olorun? Denounce feminism because of bill? Shogun laiye ni? He’s joking. Yes, he has to be.” I thought to myself, sighing out loud.
“Hahahaha!” I laughed. “You are joking right? Of course you are. You can’t be serious.
“Joke?” He jeered at me.
“Wait!” I said, “Let me get one thing straight young man. When you said you wanted to take me out to dinner, what you actually meant was, let me take you out to a place where you will use your own money to buy your dinner, right?”
“Madam, pay your half of the bill. Shebi you are a feminist? Feminists pay their own bills now?” He said, mockingly.
“Eh eh! Lemme see the bill. At this point, I was boiling with anger. You know that moment when you have a lot of thoughts jumbling for supremacy in your head, lots of words on the tip of your tongue, but you just can articulate them? That’s how dumbfounded I was.
I studied the bill.
“Hollup a bit. You want us to split the bill in half, equally?” I asked.
“Sure. Why not? Gender equality remember?” He replied, mockingly.
“Kolewerk. I only had Smoothie and Chicken wings. Whilst you ate Chinese rice with Prawns, grilled Fish and cocktail. Obviously, you ought to pay more than I do because you ate more than I did. It says here that the Smoothie is 2,200 whilst the Chicken wings is 1,500. It all comes down to a total of 3,700. And that is all I’m going to pay. 3,700. Not a kobo more, not a kobo less.” I concluded, fishing for change in my purse.
“Na wah o. So you are calculating what you ate and what you did not eat? I no juss understand this your kain feminist at all. Ordinary bill, you are bringing out calculator.” He sneered.
“Wait. Are you okay at all? So in the name of gender equality you call someone’s daughter that you want to take her out to dinner, and then at the end of it all, you expect me to bring out my wallet and pay for your meal?
It’s like unfortunate is worrying you.” I replied, raising my voice.
“You are making a scene.” He said, trying to placate me. “I just thought that since you are an advocate of gender equality…. …. … Going dutch will be right up your alley.
Yen yen yen yen yen
Dear Prospective Chyker,
Let your head be correct. Let it. Don’t be unfortunate, please.
There is a clear cut difference between saying “let’s hang out” and “let me take you out”. The difference is in the detail.
How dare you drag me out of my house on the pretext of taking me out on a date and expect me to pay for your meal? If you can’t afford a date, how about you tell the girl from the onset that y’all will be going Dutch. The worse thing that will happen is she will decline. Don’t ask a girl out and then drag gender equality into it.
What if I wanted to stay at home and read a novel or watch re-run episodes of “Being Mary Jane Season 4”?
Are you even okay at all?
It is because of situations like this that the importance of having vex money cannot be overemphasized. As a lady, never you underestimate the power of vex money. It can save you from sticky situations.
No matter how rich or sweet or gentle a guy is, don’t completely leave your fate in his hands. Many are mad, but few are roaming. You never can tell what some of these guys may get up to, just to prove a point.
If I’m to go out on a date and my account is singing “Ma jo lo, mo n wo eyin e” I will just sit the f*ck down in my house. No be my village