THE GENDER WARS OF TWITTER NG X
Chidi sat in his car, staring at honking vehicles ahead. Nigerian traffic was a lawless jungle where the most aggressive people survived. A bus had just swerved in front of him, narrowly missing his bumper. He wanted to roll down his window and hurl an insult, but what was the point? The driver wouldn’t hear him over the loud music blaring from the bus.
To distract himself, he pulled out his phone. Big mistake.
The first tweet on his timeline hit him like a slap:
📢 "Men these days are weak. Our fathers provided for entire families, but modern men want to split bills?"
Chidi clenched his jaw. His father had, in fact, provided. His mother had also endured years of suffering in silence. But that was not the point right now. He was broke. Very broke. And women like this one were making it worse.
His fingers moved swiftly across his screen:
📢 "Modern women are entitled. Our mothers built with our fathers, but these ones just want enjoyment!"
He leaned back in his seat, satisfied. But then, a reply came almost immediately.
📢 "Your mother built with your father, and she is still selling groundnut in your village. Please, be serious."
Ah.
Chidi's face darkened. This was war.
ACROSS TOWN…
Toke adjusted her wig in the mirror. Thirty inches, bone straight, flowing like destiny. She looked like money. She had not paid for the hair yet, but faith moves mountains.
Sliding into the backseat of a Bolt, she checked Twitter.
📢 "If we remove money from relationships, what do women bring?"
Her soul left her body.
She exhaled. Her Bolt fare was ₦6,000. She had exactly ₦2,300.
No matter. God had never failed her before.
She quickly typed:
📢 "Women bring peace, intelligence, and emotional support!"
Before the tweet had even settled, a reply came:
📢 "Your father was broke, and your mother still left him. Let’s be serious."
Her hands trembled. Where did these people find these replies so fast?
Then her Bolt driver cleared his throat.
"Madam, your payment?"
Toke turned to him with a smile.
He shook his head. "No cash, no ride."
She sighed. Time to call Kola.
BACK TO CHIDI…
Chidi was still recovering from the groundnut insult.
His phone buzzed.
📩 "Son, when will you send something for my shop?"
He hissed. Distraction.
He needed to regain control of the timeline. He scrolled until he found his opportunity.
📢 "A man should always provide. If you’re broke, don’t date."
This would surely redeem him.
Women liked this kind of tweet. He had barely refreshed his screen before a DM popped up.
📩 "Hey, babe 😘. Did you send the 5k for my hair?"
His stomach twisted.
How could women argue about financial independence in the morning and ask for money in the afternoon?
He shut the chat. This wasn’t the time.
SOMEWHERE ELSE, TOKE…
Toke, now home, sipped her glass of freshly squeezed juice (paid for by Kola) and saw another tweet.
📢 "A man who truly loves you will never let you lack."
She smiled. Finally, a man with sense. She retweeted with her full chest.
Then she saw a second tweet.
📢 "A woman who truly loves you will always cook for you."
She hissed. Men and their slavery mindset.
📢 "This is why Nigerian men are useless."
She closed the app and returned to her meal; jollof rice, sponsored by Kola.
LATER THAT NIGHT…
Chidi lay on his bed, exhausted. The gender wars had drained him. He scrolled through WhatsApp.
📩 "Hey, babe. You up?"
📩 "Lol. You, that said modern women are lazy?"
📩 "Haha. But you know you’re different na."
📩 "Where’s my 5k?"
📩 "Let’s talk about that when we see this weekend."
📩 "So you’re broke?"
📩 "Are you mad?"
📩 "Goodnight."
Chidi sighed deeply.
He got up and turned on his generator. The power had gone out again. From a distance, he heard someone shouting:
"MAY NEPA NEVER BE GREAT!"
And just like that, the cycle would start again tomorrow.
MORAL OF THE STORY?
And if anyone asked?
But the truth? Nobody was logging off.
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