In Love with Another Man

Turning off the headlights at the entrance of raven black gate, Rita reached for Henry’s hand if only for an infusion of warmth. “Do you want me to come in with you” he asked face hidden in the shadows of the interior lights. She shook her head and paused for a moment before she alighted from the car and walked through the gate. Rita knocked on the door and she felt rather than heard it open. She looked up into Andy’s smiling face and half grinned back. Blindfolding her with his strong hands he led her into the foyer and to the accompanying sounds of Jazmine Sullivan he whispered “I have a surprise for you”. He let her go to the exquisite sight of tealights, giant lilac candles, multitudes of peach & red rose petals and already sensing what awaited her she turned to find  him wearing a nervous smile on bended knee holding a flawless white gold sapphire ring.

She gazed at him, drinking in very angle of his handsome face. She took in the deep dimples peeking out at his cheeks, the prematurely graying hair, his golden whisky eyes noticing all the little things that she liked to tease him about. This man was goodness, perfection, love and everything any woman would kill for. She was tempted, so very tempted but instead she sighed and cupping his face she said, “Andy we need to talk”.

His face fell and she felt her heart give a lurch at the devastation and sadness she saw in his eyes. Clasping his hand to hers she tilted his head up to meet her own gaze and steeling against all the emotion she could sense in his slightly trembling frame she said “ I can’t go on pretending, I am in love with another man”

She watched him close his eyes, heard the ring tinkle as it fell to the floor and heard him slowly mouth ‘Why?’ Spirit crumbling she begged, “Please at look me”, and when he opened his eyes she went off in a tirade scared  that he would run away before she had a chance to explain. “I can’t explain why it is him and not you. You treat me so much better than him and if I was sane there would be no competition but I find myself in love with him” she uttered. Andy angrily shoved Rita and stood up roughly dragging her along with him, ‘What have I not done right? What have I not given you?” he shouted. “You have given me everything. Henry doesn’t even treat me right but when am with him there isn’t anything like it. If I could I would forget him, please believe me” she pleaded.

“How can I believe anything you say?” he was now yelling upturning flowers and the bucket of champagne, “You made me believe you were in love with me. I wanted to make you my wife” gesturing to the room that was now in tatters. He turned his back to her; his shoulders slumped like a man weighed down with so much pain and in a cold voice said, “Get out. Get out and don’t you ever come back”.

Rita froze, she had hurt the man who had made her happy for so long and all instinct pushed her to run to him, get on her knees, ask for his forgiveness and beg him to take her back but it was for naught. For outside all this pandemonium was Henry; the man with a perfect body, who she always seemed to fight with but was just right for her. Walking towards Andy, his back still turned to her she gently touched his arm, “I am so sorry for what I have done to you. I will never forget us”.

As she turned to leave he held onto her arm and abruptly Rita was whirled into a hug. Andy held her like a vice and in a hoarse broken voice pleaded, “Don’t leave me. Whatever is wrong I can fix it even if it takes me a lifetime. We are soul mates, you know we are. Let’s get married and have those adventures & children we always talked about. Forget him”. Clutching to him, she wept for all our lost dreams and memories, the agonizing heartbreak and the pain that we would no longer be us. “You will find somebody else. There will be another woman who will treat you right and understand the man you are. Don’t let this dim all that fire inside you.” Then she kissed him for one final time, a slow savoring goodbye kiss mingled with salty tears and ache. Standing on tiptoes she kissed his forehead and whispered, “Goodbye Andy, another soul mate will find you. Perhaps we will find each other in another  lifetime”. They clung to each other for a few more seconds and without a backward glance Rita walked out the door guilty, hurting and a total entanglement of emotions.

That was her price for falling in love with another man.

Passion makes the world go round, love just makes it safer - Ice T 

SINGLE GIRL EQUATION

(Boss + First Day x Refusal = Fired)

Dear Diary,

Today was my first day as an IT Officer and after several failed employment searching attempts and taxi journeys in and out of town I totally deserve it. It was only fair therefore that when I walked into the administration office that I wore a coral lipstick smile and donned an outfit that would not look out of place at a Wall Street office. The sun was sunshine, the birds were singing etc (I forget how that song goes). I was Muhammad Ali ready to sting like a bee and fly like a butterfly. I was going to crash this job.

The snobbish secretary waved me towards a door and knocking meekly I entered the Executive Director’s Office. With his back slightly turned to me, staring through the venetian blinds was a bespectacled giant-of-a-man with a slight tummy pouch looking every inch the boss. I sat before I was invited to (the four inch heels were killing me) and we fell into a bit of tete-a-tete. So when my new boss got up, turned the blinds down, turned the key on his door, held out his hands to help me stand up I sensed no danger. That was until he grabbed my derrière, stealthy unzipped my skirt, fumbled around my décolletage all the while trying to stick his tongue through my clenched teeth (the man clearly didn’t know that kissing had been invented). At this point you are probably asking what I was doing.

On the precipice danger of falling over on my unstable heels I found myself unwillingly holding onto this very disgusting man. Using his arm as leverage I gained stability and shoved him away. He was smiling! The fool was smiling and I wanted to punch him just to wipe the smirk off his face. Pretending like nothing happened he handed me the appointment letter and dismissed me. Did I forget to mention he is an old friend of my father?  The man, you see, has no boundaries or limitations.

I strolled to the IT Office in a surreal bubble. I was furious and still fighting to comprehend what had ensued. The ICT Manager was friendly (thank goodness), the orientation a breeze and the day was on track of getting better when my phone started ringing incessantly. For the next 20 minutes I swiped call button left until the caller showed up. Surprised by the sudden presence of the ‘Big Boss’, my other boss hurried forward like an eager weasel, bowing (and scraping?) to receive him. The man was treated like an apparition worthy of adoration.

I was relieved when he made a sign to leave but as fate would have it it he beckoned me to walk out with him. Bile rising in my throat I forced my legs that felt like stones to budge. “I was hoping we rendezvous later and come up with an arrangement” he said and like a bimbo I smiled and nodded. This man was clearly delusional and out of his mind. My first lunch break found me hailing a taxi back home. Later that night over dinner I told the folks in-matter-of-fact way that I and that job were incompatible. The look of disappointment of my father’s face had me blurting out the entire anecdote. It was not worth it to look like the failed & ungrateful child.

While I narrated the incident, my parents’ faces were devoid of emotion. Let’s just say after there was my Papa foaming at the mouth, making a late night phone call and hurling English-Runyankole profanities. My mother just hugged me and took me to bed. Sexually assaulted on the first day was certainly not how I had seen my day going.

Currently Infatuated With I

Marsha Ambrosius

Words can’t describe how Marsha Ambrosius’ music makes one feel. Once the other half of the British Neosoul duo Floetry she and Natalie Stewart birthed songs like Say Yes, Getting Late, an intricate combination of spoken word and music. Since going solo right from Late Nights & Early Mornings to Friends & Lovers albums Marsha pours sensuality and essence into her music.

Her songs breathe of bliss, velvet against soft skin, strawberries dipped in chocolate, setting the right theme to seduce your man (or woman) throwing them into an abyss of passion. Also known as The Songstress Marsha’s sultry soulful vocals give symmetry between sexy, indulgence in love’s pleasures and pangs and life with just a hint of raunchiness. She coos, what my friend likes to call, the perfect baby making music.

Marsha inspires fantasies of drawing a vanilla strawberry scented bubble bath, pouring a glass of white wine, grabbing a historical romance (tales of an Earl and his wayward wench), leaning back in the tub and enjoying the gentle assault on sensation. She is the perfect way to wind down on those blue days or hectic weekend where you just want your spirit to swim in calm water.

Make sure to listen to Far Away, With You, The Break Song (this will probably make you cry), I Hope She Cheats on You (With a Basketball Player), Butterflies from the Late Nights & Early Mornings Album. Currently listening to the 2014 Friends & Lovers album for probably the 10th time my fast favorites are Run, Shoes, Without You (ft NeYo), Shoes and Spend All My Time(with Charlie Wilson). As (a song with Anthony Hamilton for the movie The Best Man Holiday) is a faultless addition to your collection.

PS: You can download all her songs from mp3clan.com


Run...



Black Forest Gateau

Sounds so French doesn’t it? However the Black Forest cake is of German origin claimed to have been created by confectioner Josef Keller. The Black Forest gateau has multiple layers of chocolate cake with whipped cream and cherries betwixt each layer, topped off with more whipped cream, maraschino berries (would be a perfect name for rum) and chocolate shavings.

Despite my phobia for dentists and the evidence of several cemented teeth in my mouth I am addicted to Black forest. I would probably get sick of it if I consumed everyday but until the day I do I am happy to treat myself to a slice on my diet cheat day.

Hmmm…..nothing beats the explosion of senses on taste buds when the moist chocolate cake, whipped cream and cherries twirl and combine. It is a beautiful moment worthy of time standing still.

Usually the main subject for my food porn addiction, you will me find scrolling through pages of black forest pictures and recipes when ravenous, hoping the optical illusion abates my hunger pains until Mama Shona (our food lady) summons me for lunch. Raise your hand if viewing food while famished only exacerbate your stomach‘s protesting growls. Everybody? Pretty much guessed that outcome. However you will still find me sending cake picture messages to my boo, hinting of my cravings which usually gets his going and lucky for me the evening will find us pampered with a cup of Mocha and slice of black forest cake.

Food porn!!!!

For those sweet toothers like me, I would recommend Café Javas and Sheraton’s Temptations Cake Shop for a quick fix and the discovery of a variety of other exquisite cakes (yummy red velvet & white chocolate strawberry cake). Bakeries and home bakers can make it on order while supermarkets like Shoprite (yeey for cake Fridays every week) offer it at a reasonable price.

Go on then, have your cake and damn the consequences (although if you are not big on dental hygiene, it is probably for the best that you have your dentist on speed dial).

Leonardo Da Vinci (1452-1519)

It has long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things.                  Leonardo Da Vinci


If you browse through my Facebook profile you will find a few quotes by Da Vinci and if you happen to stumble upon my Twitter account you will be greeted by a giant image of the Vitruvian Man. To say that I am infatuated with Leonardo Da Vinci would be an absolute lie. I am absolutely obsessed with this Florentine vegetarian, poly math, dyslexic, ambidextrous, rumoured homosexual who was the epitome of the Renaissance Man. Born Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci (translated Leonardo son of Piero da Vinci) out of wedlock to a lawyer Piero da Vinci and peasant woman Caterina in 1452, Leonardo’s father noticed his son’s brilliance and had him apprenticed to the Florentine sculptor Andre del Verrocchio. Although a chronic procrastinator, Leonardo is famous for his paintings of the Mona Lisa, Vitruvian Man, The Last Supper, Lady with an Ermine and Madonna of the Rocks; he was also an architect, musician, cartographer, writer, anatomist, geologist, mathematician to mention but a few.




Inspite of being homeschooled and receiving an informal education in languages (Latin), geometry and arithmetic, Leonardo da Vinci was a great thinker with a curious mind and inventive imagination whose fields of expertise were mostly self taught. As part of advancing his anatomy knowledge Leonardo was rumoured to dig into graveyards to steal corpses and dissect them to make detailed sketches case in point ‘Embryo in the Womb’ although it was later revealed that he was given permission to use the cadavers at Hospital of Santa Nuova in Florence. Leonardo later merged art, anatomy and mathematics to paint the Vitruvian Man.

As part of his quirks Da Vinci used to wear clothes of bright colours especially pink to freshen up his complexion. Leonardo never married or had children (too bad, he would have sired geniuses), he wrote most of his notes in mirror-image script to prevent others stealing his work, he was imprisoned in 1476 for 2 months on charges of sodomy with a male prostitute but was later acquitted, he had a raging rivalry with Michelangelo and enjoyed a friendship with Niccolo Machiavelli (Michelangelo & Machiavelli were also both Renaissance men). Leonardo had an avid love for fauna that he purchased caged animals and birds just so he could set them free. His fascination for the possibility of flight had him observing birds in motion resulting into conceptualized sketches for aerodynamic inventions resembling helicopters, parachutes, airplanes and hang gliders

He is attributed to have developed designs for inventions like motor cars, bicycles, armored tank, weapons, swinging bridges, mechanical robots, steam cannon.

Da Vinci’s notes on his construction of the first humanoid robot are currently used by NASA to design the planetary exploration robots. In 2001 a bridge was constructed in Norway based on Leonardo’s 1502 single span bridge sketch. In 1995 Bill Gates bought Da Vinci’s Codex Leicester for $30 million which contains his observations on hydraulics and water movement. Plus the man was a sucker for word plays and puzzles.


Anyone who has read Dan Brown ‘s Da Vinci Code would know that Leonardo Da Vinci was also an alleged grandmaster of the debated Priory Of Sion formed to guard the race of Jesus Christ. While this topic is full of controversy it is an excellent argument subject matter for the conspiracy theory buffs.

Leonardo da Vinci died at Clos-Luce in France and was buried in the Palace church of St.Florentin (is this coincidence? Florentina). The French revolution ruined most of the church and because of that the exact resting place of Da Vinci’s final resting is unknown.

For all the series fans, I would recommend Da Vinci’s Demons. Although it is fictional and made mostly for entertainment, there are some throw-ins of factual information on the maestro that will fascinate you.

Why Men Love Bitches

I am a Bitch who knows some other bitches. We are all proud and certified Bitches stamped, ready to go out and share it with the rest of womankind. I am roaring out loud that bitch is the way to go. However should any man, boy or hooligan call me that, he will meet the open palm of my small hand as I slap the living daylights out of him.

I am aware that I have created quite uproar but before any woman desert me for speaking such blasphemy hear me out.  About three months ago our CFO (a delightful temperamental sunshine-coloured woman) emailed all the ladies in the office a surprising ‘gift’ that created controversy at the work lunch table that afternoon. It was Sherry Argov’s Why Men Love Bitches. I know what you must be thinking; the title alone is enough to start an uprising by the female population if only to prove that they are no bitches. ‘Bitch’ in ordinary circles (except of course in Boondocks & Katt Williams’ standup comedy) is a derogatory term used to refer to a woman. Granted it is a nasty word to but trust feminists to have found a way to turn this into a tool of empowerment.

Reading the book later that night I was blown away by the idea that this woman presented on how women can control the dynamics of relationships. According to Sherry men do not like women who are doormats, the all ‘too nice-too sweet’ girl next door who whimper and waft when you do not call her. Men are put off by the clingy girl who is so worried about them, caging them, building an altar to them, so dependent on them it that her world revolves around him. Apparently it is better to be a bitch, assertive, know just the right angle to stroke a man’s ego and play bimbo just enough to get him to do what you want. At the first glance Sherry gives the impression that bitches should act like the those douche bag exes we have all had who never called and acted like they we were doing just us a favour just to date us however an in-depth read  presents exactly that (I am kidding....don’t ever do that to your significant other). The truth is that the book pretty much preaches that women should be self- confident and have boundaries, how they should quit hopping like bunny rabbits just to run to his beck and call, and instead of stewing up a storm of anger they should just notify the guy-in-question when he is acting less than the gentleman he should be. Your mama did not raise you to be somebody’s doormat.

 Now I wouldn’t advise anyone to act like the mizigo women I hear about in the slums who scream for the entire world to hear when the man is being an idiot and less than attentive in bed (bad move). “Honey I was not amused with the move you pulled yesterday. Please do not do that again” delivered with a smile, with or without the endearments (depending on how miffed you are) and a bit of silent treatment will do just the trick. You end up pulling off sweetness without letting him get away with it.

 So back to bitchiness, now some women take the bitchy thing too far. They are mean, so darn aggressive bordering on psycho, disrespectful, difficult, giving off an aura of meanness that has men giving them a wide berth of space. Then they go on complaining how they just can’t find a man. You can be a go-getter, self assured, CEO of some company and still be all sugar, spice and everything (basically a Powerpuff girl). My definition of being a bitch is finding the perfect balance of asking for what you want (within reason) without sacrificing your femininity.

During one of those rare father-daughter talks my Papa advised me to treat a man right but not to build my entire life around him. He told me to hold my own weight, be independent, remain exactly who I am and act like I am a prize and that way no man would ever take me for granted. This action plan although not full proof has worked perfectly for me.

 I do not condemn nice girls everywhere I just think they should add just a bit of zest in that awesome personality they already possess. Honestly as humans we tend to take people who are too nice to us for granted regardless of gender and that applies for all relationships.

All sense of propriety and niceties aside ladies, y’all need to grow some boobs, balls (oops wrong gender), or even an extra vagina (if that helps) and get some standards. Men only treat you the way they do because you let them get away with it. We all have that guy that we pine after, who calls you once in a month at ungodly hours (btw 11:30 pm is an ungodly hour) for the occasional booty call, texts back on whatsapp after 4 days even if you can clearly see his stupid behind is always online. The dwanzi who has got us practising those acrobatic karma sutra sex moves to please him in bed but still won’t introduce us to his boys as a girlfriend even after a year. Girl you need to let his sorry ass see that door slam in his face. Adopt some bitch attitude.

Don’t be that girl that shuts up when he screws up and become his weekend maid service while he is off keeping FIFA scores while on Playstation with the boys. Don’t allow yourself to leave the bedroom without that much needed orgasm because you are too afraid to tell him just how you like it (mbu you will hurt his ego). I will admit some guys will leave you (even those you like) but the perk is you remain with the worthwhile ones. The kind that will respect and value your opinion without thinking you are aloof and standoffish.

Bitching isn’t about complaining all the time about what is wrong or trying to wear the pants in the relationship. Bitching is being unafraid to voice an opinion or disagree. Being a bitch just means not allow anyone to walk all over you. If his ass does something you do not like, speak up instead of avidly watching Sony Max’s A 1000 Ways to die looking for ways to make his murder look as natural as possible.

                              Ever since I was born, I have been trained to serve you.                                                        What do you like to do? Whatever you like. (WTF??!!!)

I once went out with a guy who I am sure was used to treating his women indifferently. On a Saturday he invites me over to his place for drinks with his friends which I accepted on condition that he pick me up since I was unfamiliar with his residence location. Time check 11:30 pm and there I was a lone figure stuck at a gas station with night duty pump attendants giving me creepy eyes. By this time the fool was not picking his phone and my hyper imaginative mind was playing tricks on me. I took matters into my own hands and with the help of one of his friends found my way to his place. Acting like he had not abandoned me, he hugged me and on my inquiries on his absence, he launched into a sob story about a liquor bottle slicing him and showed me the accompanying cut as if I was his mama that would kiss the hurt and make it go away. Needless to say there was a stunned silence and cries of ‘owww’ from the guests later when I slapped him and just for good measure back handed him. His ego bruised, my hands smarting from the pain I walked out of the gate, took a cab to Legends and had an awesome night. There was no communication from him until a week later when he sent an apology message that immediately saw the bottom of my recycle bin. Happy ending to this story we are now friends although he now knows better. (PS: slapping is not encouraged unless he is being a total douche bag and your temper gets away from you)

Standards set you apart from every other female. They are your signature, the unforgettable thing about you. Your standards whether they are on when you decide to sleep with him, your exclusivity, how you should treat each other while dating etc are entirely up to your tastes and preferences. I have had the privilege of being privy to the inner workings of men’s minds during those moments when my male friends gossip and forget I exist. Men (the millennial ones at least) actually like women who are not afraid to speak their mind, those are the kind that they will take home to their mamas. The too nice girl, they say, is a suspicious character who is vying for the Mrs. title and once that ring is on her figure she will become the female version of Sméagol.  They want character equilibrium of a bitch and the nice girl. The female CEO that will still cook their dinner and accept occasionally to be a damsel in distress all the while keeping it together without losing her individuality.

So yeeeyy Bitches.....let’s go conquer the universe.

The Nerve of Ugandan Boda Boda Men

Normally when you get a boda boda its all about getting from point A to point B. Well scratch that maybe not entirely, it’s also a gender thing I mean when I get a boda it’s always how little I can give the guy for the longest distance possible using my feminine charms and penny saving schemes. As for guys or so am told its about getting the fastest boda guy money can buy, fighting Kampala traffic, wind blowing through non-existent hair and getting to the meet place before your dream girl so you can tell her how your car broke down and it’s just around the corner (guy I once went out with did it, it was amusing to see him squirm with embarrassment when I caught him)

But back to what got me here; it was one of those nights where I had conflicting reception parties to attend but thankfully Nakawa and Kololo are neighbours. On my way back from 7 trees, slightly drunk from just a bit of wine (does half a bottle constitute as little?), elated from meeting old friends and wedding blues the boda rider stopped side by side to an Audi driven by this hot Indian giving me the eye. Of course I noticed but didn’t think the boda guy noticed it too but as soon as we turned it was all he started to talk about. Now usually I like the riders to just shut up and get me to my final destination but with this one could not keep a lid on it.
His story started with how many white women he had slept with and how good they felt in places I don’t care to repeat and subsequently how they always begged for more. I was already squirming in my uncomfortable seat by the time he was going on about how African girls only want white men because they go ‘downtown’ (if you don’t know what that means - research that is what Google is for). Then it got downright hilarious when he offered to show me what the fuss was all about and there I was in stitches holding on the luggage metal bar for dear life. I mean the nerve of some men I cannot even begin to comprehend but well <sigh> they provide a little spice to an otherwise dull life. Next time am mentioning destination, haggling fare, plugging in earphones for some Jazmine Sullivan or Sara Bareilles music and just sitting pretty for the boda ride.

Sensuality

Tskeito, one of my close friends and frequent partner in crime posted something that 

describes a way ward girl finding her place in the world...much like me


Sensuality does not wear a watch but she always gets to the
essential places on time. She is adventurous and not
particularly quiet. She was reprimanded in grade school
because she couldn’t sit still all day long. She needs to move.
She thinks with her body. Even when she goes to the library to
read Emily Dickinson or Emily Bronte, she starts reading out
loud and swaying with the words, and before she can figure
out what is happening, she is asked to leave. As you might
expect, she is a disaster at office jobs.


Sensuality has exquisite skin and she appreciates it in others
as well. There are other people whose skin is soft and clear
and healthy but something about Sensuality’s skin announces
that she is alive. When the sun bursts forth in May, Sensuality
likes to take off her shirt and feel the sweet warmth of the
sun’s rays brush across her shoulder. This is not intended as a
provocative gesture but other people are, as usual, upset.
Sensuality does not understand why everyone else is so
disturbed by her. As a young girl, she was often scolded for
going barefoot.


Sensuality likes to make love at the border where time and
space change places. When she is considering a potential
lover, she takes him to the ocean and watches. Does he dance
with the waves? Does he tell her about the time he slept on the
beach when he was seventeen and woke up in the middle of
the night to look at the moon? Does he laugh and cry and
notice how big the sky is?


It is spring now, and Sensuality is very much in love these
days. Her new friend is very sweet. Climbing into bed the first
time, he confessed he was a little intimidated about making
love with her. Sensuality just laughed and said, ‘But we’ve
been making love for days.


Just let go and allow yourself to indulge in the senses that it brings.

Drink it in and let its fingers grip you in the passion that will sweep you

wave upon wave of ecstasy. To drift away to a galaxy unknown with

burning stars and asteroids down the rabbit hole.

Quarter Life Crisis

Later this year I turn the quarter-lifer age of 25, on October 27^th to be precise (gifts and surprise birthday parties are welcome y’all) and with this age comes a great fight that will have me avoiding family gatherings and ceremonies with the sprint race the zombies in World War Z pulled (eehh….those were some scary fast zombies). This battle that will divide mamas and papas, siblings and whole families until it is over and done with. Like the inescapable sacred imbalu ritual of the Bagisu that a male has to pursue to earn the title of a man no matter what age he is, this immense combat will continue until someone gives in.

A few days ago on a peaceful Sunday while enjoying pork at Zig Zag, a little way laid place in Namuwongo, ( has an exclusively charming old school playlist)my mother called to check on her little girl. Bursting with euphoria she informed me with the gusto of a Commanding Officer addressing her junior that she was expecting me to get married within the year. Of course I laughed, in fact so hard that I almost toppled over and of course she was grumbling that I did not take her seriously. I knew this routine and had danced to this tune at least once every other month since leaving home. Every month or so I make the journey to Mukono to catch up on some mother – daughter bonding time and every time it’s the same tired nursery rhyme. The questions flood; “Have you found a man? When are you bringing him home? Is he serious?” (oh my goodness do these the questions grate on my nerves) it is almost a fixation with her and every other female relative I have. There is this group compulsive obsessive behaivoural need to have a girl fixed up as soon as the ink on her transcript is dry. I can testify to my maternal aunts dragging these poor young men along to my graduation party hoping I would pick one of them as my next boyfriend. Needless to say my then boyfriend was not amused and neither was I. These guys were no slaves on a dock awaiting their turn to be examined and picked accordingly to physical attributes, social standing, and their ability to keep the ‘harro accent’ out of their speech.

Do not take this the wrong way I love my mother and family to bits but sometimes I just want to scream out loud and tell them to leave me the hell alone. To let me be, to make my mistakes, let the world take a beating at me and spit me out like last month’s gossip. Of course their advice is well meant and comes with protectiveness that only a mother can give hoping that they can prevent all the heartbreaks we will go through, the depression we will suffer over a man and of course the need to see us wedded with children.  A mindset has been engraved into every family’s mind over the centuries that being without a ring / man and a child just makes you a girl. You cannot graduate to a woman with the above pre-requisites and here I was thinking getting menstrual periods already did that.

Society is cruel, categorizing that which they cannot fit into a bracket as strange, weird or even disgusting. The freedom of expression with everything from Facebook to Twitter to Instagram has allowed people to let the world see a peek of what they really are. The response however has left me sickened with fear. The world is so quick to judge our peculiarities and quirks while they safeguard theirs. ‘So, what if I want to work at my career and education then concentrate on marriage later? Why the rush if not only for the reason of beating my biological clock. The absence of a wedding ring on my finger does not mean I have failed to snag a man because maybe am setting high standards, want too much or will not put up with certain characteristics just because society says it is tolerable (case in point that all men cheat its inbuilt into their genetics). Honestly some things do not need to be rushed. A lawyer acquaintance of mine spilled to me that some of his clients are already divorcees at the early age of 26 and quite candidly I do not want to be just another figure to the statistics. Why rush into marriage with a stranger when only darkness looms at the end of the tunnel. In the end you will shoulder the blame when it bears no fruit and you are deemed unworthy and lacking in quality to sustain a marriage.

Lily, a girlfriend of mine, confided to me that her mother is infatuated with getting her married her off that when they have the ‘nuptials argument’ and Lily fights back with the vengeance of stung puma her mother simply caps off the argument with a call to her pastor to pray for her wayward daughter! I mean seriously is it so bad that divine intervention is needed as if God does not already have bigger problems? What with the Devil, murderers, earthquakes, corrupt politicians and nuclear wars on the loose. Most of my girlfriends are in marriage mart arguments with every new wedding meeting, invitation cards and all the times they are the bridesmaid and never the bride. If there was a supermarket where they sold men our problem would probably be solved. Parents would just pick up Handsome Ken to match their own Barbie doll (us) to it.

Growing up I have had to fight this nasty habit of being a people pleaser.  It is like trying to quit your craving for cigarettes or beer or addiction to Scandal, it just won’t let you go and every day you build a wall of lies that it will be the last time. Over the years I have realized that the world does not care as much as you think they do and kind of quit trying to please it. They will be the first to congratulate you, like your Facebook & Instagram statuses and follow you on twitter but nobody will join in the pain you endure every day. The world only sees what you show them and will never know of the bodies you throw in your closet like Dexter. A woman could veil that she is in an abusive relationship with a man who likes to play whack-a-mole with the hard end tennis racket on her body or a man could conceal that he barely sleeps because he is holding a crying toddler while the mother is out getting her groove on. When you see such couples they are the epitome of perfect until you blow away the smoke screen. The façade melts away to reveal a union that bickers, criticises, dismisses and is hanging on by spider threads that a mere child’s breath could blow out of existence. I for one will not let myself be in marriage because I have to settle for less than what I want just because the world says that my clock is ticking. This girl is all for instant gratification but not on marriage. I will not co-habit with a swine of cheating, insensitive husband just because he has money and provides me with a blanket of security. Frankly I would rather be left out in the cold than endure that for the rest of my life.

I am a simple girl (maybe a tad bit complex) with simple desires. I seek only for a man who I will love and will love me in return the equal or unequal measure being of no consequence. A God fearing man who will be my companion and confidante and will happily gossip and laugh with me. A masculine figure that I will gladly bear children for and endure the pangs of childbirth, stretch marks and misshaped body that comes with it. Somebody will take me in stride when am a train wreck in the morning and a bitch in the afternoon. A guy I will fight with, want to strangle, call an idiot and still want to come home to. A man who I will love with every new wrinkle and receding hairline etc…..This does not seem too much to ask.

We only have one existence to live and except for this YOLO nonsense that is a a poor excuse to get wasted and hump each other senseless like rabbits, I for one want to make sure that I make good use of my time before I expire and milk life for all it is worth. I do not want my spirit to hang on to earth regretting paths untraveled, loves unexplored and resisting the temptation to get even with ex boyfriends. Therefore I do declare that I will embrace love, cling to it and happily take pleasure in it with all its inevitable budding thorns. I will marry for love not to fulfill a need that the public and my family have deemed fit for me or to quiet the never ending questions. I will not be cajoled to marry a man I cannot stand, beget children unloved, and endure cold nights sipping Pinot & listening to Melanie Fiona’s 4AM all the while secretly plotting on how to make that Vim powder taste like sugar in his morning coffee. Just anything to end the misery. I probably understand now why some women kill their husbands if only to escape the jailer of a prison whose door you opened and walked through just to please everyone and have them pat you on the back that you are married and now a woman.

I will be part of the revolution that fights this craziness that we are pushed into and if I am guillotined (do they still do that?) then so be it. I will take up arms and declare myself a full woman despite group thought.

All this pushing will do nothing but yield obstinate results. William Shakespeare says ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in our selves’. I am a writer of my own destiny and will have no man pen it for me. I will pick a male for myself and have no other decide for me. I alone will bear the consequences good or bad I will embrace, for I owe it to myself to find a slice of happiness in this otherwise chaotic life.

The so handsome and soulful Maurice Kirya wrote something to this that I thought I would share 

“What is wrong with Ugandans always pushing everyone to get married? Or have a kid? Whatever happened to people actually falling in love and choosing to be with someone for the rest of their lives?

Marriage has become some sort of a trendy lifestyle, that is, as if done for public satisfaction! Back then, making a decision to marry meant you were in love, made a choice to be with someone for the rest of your life. Today, it seems as though it is done for status in society, a way of showing that you can make a big decision, to show growth. But what is good is public satisfaction if you are not happy with the wife or husband you have?

I still believe that marriage is special and no one should handle it like a joke! People should stop always telling others, ‘You are not married? What are you waiting for?’ The truth is, it’s not a race about who gets married this year or not,, it is about the genuine happiness it gives you inside, the contentment of who you are with and how deeply you are in love no matter what comes.

You can’t make a decision like that if you are not ready to consider that this will involve your children, the last thing you want is to be sad in something that you were not ready for, it will affect not only you, but your kids too and everyone around you!

Marriage is not the answer to problems and public dissatisfaction, marriage is between two people, two hearts, two souls, your friends and family attending the wedding doesn’t make your love for each other any stronger but what the two of you feel when you go back home and are alone, that is what makes the connection.

Let’s go back to the basics, let’s go back to being genuinely in love, let’s get back to understanding what happiness really is, and let’s get back to being strong beings that can make strong independent decisions, let’s get back to common sense”

This is a man after my own heart. Life is too short to be spent miserable. To echo Gathoni in Ngungi W Thiong’o’s I Will Marry When I Want, ‘Sorry! I shall marry when I want. Nobody will force me into it!’ Enough said!!!