Back in the day, slay queens were manyangas. Swag was madoido. Lucozade and Ribena was for the sick. When the ‘you guy my guy’ wasn’t a middle class or wonnabe affair, when megarider was a preserve of the elite.
Well, before back then (ahem, kindly cooperate) there was way back then when double decker buses and old jalopies were the only means of transport. So, when the private car came as alternative means of transport for individuals, it was more than a status symbol.
So, when someone offered you a lift, you’d quickly sit at the front so that you’d feel sorry for the less unfortunate walking, hoping they would get a glimpse of you riding in this amazing invention.
Unknowingly, this gave birth to a new culture, the seat of honour—the front seat. And now, the battle of the front seat. When women fight their man’s friends, relatives and collegues to co-drive.
Many women will tell you about that friend who forgets his place in their man’s car. You know how men complain women take forever dressing up, but, hey, you try doing a decent smoky eye and styling your hair in the time it takes him to swim in that Axe, thing they ‘doom’ all over their body.
They might as well wait. So, you do your thing and impatient him goes to the car as they chat with his boy. When you almost done and even made sure you’ve tried your best to ‘matchy matchy’ his outfit, Mr boyz is sitting right where your invisible label screams, albeit in hush tones. What to do?
You know some men, Mr Boyz included believe that the issue is so mundane, it’s not worth fighting over. Because hey, whether front or back seat ‘of importance’ is your destination, isn’t the backseat more comfy anyway?
But I’m here to debunk the ignorance. Ask most self-respecting women: girlfriend, wife, fiancée, side kick, sponsees heck even one-night stands, they’ll tell you, that front seat is more than just a seat. It asserts her authority and marks her territory for that moment.
For respect sake, anyone who occupies it must move as soon as they see her approaching. This business of dressing up quick so no one occupies the seat demeans everything she represents. But then you wouldn’t have to ‘early bird’ or ‘move’ your way to the front seat if the man in question asked his boy to move, would you?
But when it comes to mother-in-laws, well, me thinks she’s the only person, and particularly only woman who can sit in that front seat when the girlfriend or wife is in the car, or maybe not? Story for another day.