On … Screw It This One’s Untitled 

Image source: Google

Hate is a heavy burden to carry. It’s the churning inside at the mention of a name, a gut-rip that’s mended soon as it’s spoken: sour words loosed into the open that blunt hate’s edge till all that remains is indifference – until love’s spark is rekindled.

The pure among us blink widened eyes and whisper hate is such a strong word, that cliche that like all of them is accurate and right.
I’ve hated, and hard, -prolly been hated too but these days I’m numb to all feelings that require more than food or sleep. As the internet says: ain’t nobody got time, so you better stop hatin’ and get on that grind.
And love? What of love? A far heavier burden if you ask me – which no one did, I know, but so what? Love? Fuck love. Love makes you blink when you should hold a stare and smile when you shouldn’t care –
Love brings forth rhyme without reason and tears in their season;

Love undeclared or declared unreturned is the solidity of grief perfomed in false smile and swallowed bile.

And what’s more, love blossoms and takes root even when you’re standing aloof: try loving when all around you fuckery is afoot.

I understand now why hermits choose separation: 

To love is to hurt and to accept that is to heal. 

You know you’re fucked up when all you want is to be loved up because you’re bursting with joie de vivre but trust me: this world is cruel to those with too much love to give. 


On Persistent Depressive Disorder


 Image: Free Yourself – Edwin Lester


It’s seeing your life disintegrate                 Yet you can’t move an inch. 

It’s sleep paralysis wide awake               With full use of your faculties. 

Just. You know. Not really.

It’s the grey cloud outside the bedroom door.                                                        Numbness inside,                         Nothingness outside.                              Before you know it                                        It’s Monday.                                                    The requirement to function in public Successfully strangles the dark passenger’s wish.                                                                For eight hours.

It’s a ball-and-chain the size of a train. Inescapable. 

Yours alone.

It’s smoky glass, seeing darkly –          Blurred memories of happier times           Or if you’re lucky, future times.

Maybe. In an alternate reality.

It’s wanting the jokes to be a little funnier,   And the sun just a little brighter.

It’s the unrelenting awareness that you’re not quite okay,                                 Something you don’t name lest you’re thought melodramatic. 

Or acting white.

It’s woollen mittens between you and the world;                                                     Hearing life through wads of cotton.

It’s water deep enough to drown in,            A strong current                                          And shouts from the shore: swim harder!

-Except you’ve been swimming forever And just breathing is a battle you’re losing.

It’s watching your world crumble           And being powerless to stop the free fall. 

It’s impending doom and all you can do is blink. 

My God. It’s being buried alive.

-Beauty’s Daughter

Yes Daddy Please

Women are not created the same and all men are not created equal. Some men inspire you to call them daddy and not because you have an ‘Elektra complex’, nor even because you’re what Tumblr calls ‘a little.’ It’s just that… some men though *fans self*…

Other men, well, let’s say other men inspired women to utilize terms like fuckboy (not to be confused with farktoy), side-nigga, ben10 and so on. I’m not entirely sure that these…humanoids…qualify to be called men, but that’s a discussion for another day.
Calling a man daddy outside of the dom/sub lifestyle, according to people who know these things, isn’t about perversion or daddy issues or anything like that. It’s about acknowledging that in the context of this particular relationship, you, daddy, are all masculine and I am all feminine, and together we will cause an inferno. 

A man who gets this? Whose behaviour, values and general being-ness make him worthy of that title? A man who understands that being called daddy/baba is a position of great power and responsibility, and neither abdicates his duty nor abuses his power? A man who understand that power is sexy and uses it wisely? Lord, what wouldn’t I give for one of those?

A man who can call me mama (context and tone matter a lot here) without feeling some typa way about it and without being manipulative with it? A man who can be fully masculine and thus complement my femininity fully…? That’s the kind of man I fantasize about.

Obviously  he doesn’t exist but a girl can dream, right? And if you’re wondering where this fantasy came from, blame my childhood bibliophilia (cos ain’t nobody got time for that now): I read and loved this book as a very young girl, and I’ve been looking for daddy ever since; long legs an added advantage.

Day 30 – Mama I Made It!

I’m not gonna lie and say I posted every day let alone wrote every day, but yeah, I completed the 30 Day AfriBlogger challenge. Check out the #30DayAfriBlogger tag on Twitter.

 I posted on every topic given even if I had to write four posts in one day like I did today. I don’t have a post for one day because I’m waiting for my fav photog. to send me his profile but other than that, I DID IT and yes, I’m proud of myself. I needed this win (such as it is) so desperately. 
What did I learn? That if I set my mind to it I can do what I want. I could say more but Fitness Bae said it better than I could here. Go check it out!

I’m gonna let you in on a secret: the real reason I took up this challenge was to prep for the  real challenge…finishing my book (!) (lovingly referred to as the project) during the month of October. This challenge was about seeing if I can write every day and despite that the project is fiction and therefore a different kind of writing, I needed to prove to myself that I can discipline myself to write whether I feel like it or not. 

Here’s to one thing going right in 2017 – I’m finishing this book if it kills me (it really might) and everything else that I failed to do this year…well, I’ve never claimed to be perfect.

Day 29 – On Toxic Relationships and Why I May Be Unsympathetic

No woman needs to be told her shoe size…we all know that the wrong size is uncomfortable at best, and painful at worst. We all know which shoes in our closets are terrible for a night of dancing, which are made for walking the corridors in our places of work, and we rarely confuse them. By the same token, a woman in a toxic relationship knows it’s toxic, whether or not she uses that word. She doesn’t need anyone to point out her misery and unhappiness. She doesn’t need a listicle of toxicity identifiers, she knows what’s up. She might not articulate it in terms like disempowerment and lack of agency and oppresion by the patriarchal powers that be, but she knows what’s up. 

Women who are emotionally, physically and verbally abused are not immune to the pain stemming from that abuse, though they may be and often are convinced of their powerlesness against it. You telling them that they are abused does nothing to change that. Why? 

Because at the end of the day, we all feel our shoes pinch and decide for ourselves -independently of both fashion advise and podiatrist’s lectures- whether to keep them on or take them off.

I have no patience for a woman who chooses to stay in an abusive relationship because I’m not here to police anyone. If your relationship is unhappy and you’re unhappy in it, you don’t need me or anyone else to spell unhappy. You’re making a choice and my feelings about it are irrelevant.

On the other hand,  a woman who recognises her unhappiness and wants to escape it – that woman will have as much of my support as I can give her. Because no woman is an island and all of us stand on the shoulders of the women around us to achieve our greatness. I’m here to give a hand to those who want that hand, but I’m not here to shout the obvious -YOU’RE BEING ABUSED- to grown women who know exactly what unhappiness feels and tastes like. 

Instead of spending time and resources describing the kinds of abuse and oppression, how about we make it unnecessary for women to stay in so-called toxic relationships? How about dismantling patriarchy and sexism wherever we encounter them? How about giving women choices and the resources to make empowered and well-informed decisions about their relationships and their sex lives? How about we teach women about self-worth and the pillars of self-esteem so that they know better than to commit to damaged men – not because we’ve detailed the kinds of damage and how it manifests in men, but because self-preservation, self-worth and high self-esteem won’t allow them to stay in situations and relationships were they are under-valued, unappreciated, uncared-for, unloved and unprotected? 

How about that? 

And if you disagree…

Day 28 – On the Foolishness of Moving In With Bae

You’re unmarried but you’re living together. So dumb, for so many reasons. Reasons which I feel the people who love you would have told you, but that you ignored because you’re in love. 

I met a 24yr old boy who moved in with his 23 yr old girlfriend because he wants to be sure she’s not boring in the long term. Er. Ok.


 I could say so much on the foolishness of co-habiting on the woman’s part, and the wisdom of co-habiting on the man’s part…but uurgh. I already dug deep for this post on the sheer idiocy of single parenting that I’m exhausted and I’m just going to say this:

If you’re a woman thinking of shacking up, ask all those other women who’ve been in it if they would still make the same decision, now, four children and twenty years later. Ask the ones who got married after twenty years of shacking up why they even bothered. If you’re a black woman of even reasonable intelligence and  you want to live with and have children by a man you’re not married to, I don’t even know what to tell you except please make sure you’re using DUAL protection.  Infidelity happens and pregnancy doesn’t give a fuck whether you’re ready or not. 

And to the men…all I can say is, karma. The way you treat other men’s daughters is the way other men will treat your daughters. Choose wisely. 

Day 27 – On Dating While Parenting

Ah, dating. 

So not a fan. 

I hate ‘going on dates.’ I hate making small talk. I hate being asked what I do and pretending I care what this person I’ve never met before, does. When I was a SAHM I thought I felt bad about being a lady of leisure but now that I have a job I like and enjoy (at least 6O% of the time) I find I still dislike the forced interest in my work and other people’s work. I know girls who want to date specifically lawyers or doctors or enginneers…I couldn’t care less because money can be made in other ways and that’s what matters. Because it matters. Because as a single mother I’m not tryna bring a deadbeat into my life. I’m not tryna drain my resources by getting attached to a man that can’t bring a bigger slice of bacon to my table, nor am I tryna play cougar by dating young&broke. Y’all can miss me with that mess. 

You see, like it or not finances matter in marriage and therefore vetting potential dates for financial compatibility is important to me. That, and physical attraction. Why? Because I’d like to get laid before I die and I’d like it to be on Egyptian cotton, thank you very much. I’m not here for team poverty (I’m doing great on my own, thanks) and I’m not here for bad sex  … dating while parenting means I have to vet quickly and efficiently to rule out broke niggas and lousy screws. When you’re dating while parenting (and on the wrong side of 30…so far wrong you don’t even remember 30), time is of the essence so let’s cut to the chase: to cut out the bullshit, make sure your vetting game is on point and know what you want. 

A lot of the time people say they don’t want x or y just to be politically correct, to impress their listeners with their high standards. Dating to pharck and dating for marriage are completely different activities with different rules. There are plenty of single mothers out there who think they’re  dating for marriage when in reality they’re dating to be a warm body for some man, they just don’t know it. 

When I started this post I was going to share my rules for dating while parenting but since those rules are geared for my lifestyle and circumstances as well as my goals and desires, few would get value. Instead, I’m going to list some things you should think about if you’re dating while parenting. I’m writing here specifically to single mothers who want to marry.

1. Does your potential mate have children? How many? Ages? Was he upfront about this? What is his relationship with the mother of these children? These questions will help you figure out what kind of husband and father this person will be, as well as warn you of any drama that may ensue. Not only that, but these questions will help you figure out what the financial implications of committing to this man will be. A divorced man with college-age children (over 18) is a very different animal from a man with a nine-month old who tells you that the woman he is living with who is also the mother of his child, is not his wife. In both cases you don’t think about what he wants and if you want to give it to him, you put first what you want and whether this line of action will help you get it. 

While on that, don’t be that woman who falls for a married man because he said he was separating from his wife. It’s easier to walk away on principle than to ignore principle and try to walk away from feelings. Trust me, feelings are dumb and will make you act dumb.
2. Does your potential mate have the requisite resources? Now here’s the thing: black women guilt each other for wanting to live well. Here’s how it goes: 

Me: I don’t want a man who needs my financial assistance.

Them: You’re a gold-digger.


I swear, it’s ridiculous. Know what? I’m cool with it because what I’m not tryna be is a woman spending money on dycke because let me school you: Chris Rock was right when he said any money spent on dycke is a bad investment. But hey boo, do you. If all you require is a birthday date to Fish n Chips, do you. Me? I can take myself to my favourite place for my birthday weekend and all I want is a man who can take us there, cos I’m not booking a hotel room for two. I’m not paying good money to have a man enjoy my company, he needs to pay what he needs to pay to enjoy mine because actually, my mother did not raise me to keep a man. That’s just not how I play. Also because Mother’s lessons notwithstanding I’ve done all my ‘bad investing’ and I’m here to say – never again. 

And do you know who calls women gold-diggers? Broke men, and the women who love them. 

3. Is your potential mate attractive to you? It doesnt matter how hot he is if he’s dumb, does it? Ok, not to me. Intelligence, wit, big arms (normal big, not gym rat big), wit, charm, good manners, wit, good shoes, wit, good cologne…in that order. Yes. Wit. Because witty people are smart people and witty men with big arms who smell good and treat me well are my weakness. But, I said this wasn’t about me. The important thing (if good sex matters to you at all) is to pick a partner that you find attractive. You don’t have to fuck ’em to prove ’em -the proof of the man is not in the farkuing: it’s a myth that you have to have sex with someone to prove that y’all are sexually compatible. There are signs to look out for that will point to chemistry but I know some very young people read my blog so I’m not going into detail, suffice it to say -don’t ignore what your gut tells you. If you’re not attracted to this person clothed you’re unlikely to be attracted to them nekkid. And unlike men who can get by because well, it’s easy for them and women stay bending over backward to please their partners (sometimes literally, too), a lack of chemistry/attraction spells disaster for women…it’s just that we’re not all smart enough or evolved enough or in touch with our feminine core enough to know when the brewing romance is a ‘chemical disaster’. Me? Been there. For a fee, I can teach you how to pick the good screws from the bad without having to get nekkid. 

4. You and your potential mate must share the same major values 

What does he believe about marriage? About parenting? About division of labour? About women working outside the home? About the spiritual headship of the man? About doing the heavy lifting, sex twice a day every day and a weekend away every four months? 

If you and your man are compatible sexually and financially but your world views and value systems are, well, world’s apart, you’re going to find yourself in a world of hurt. And if you’re in that world with your children, you’re going to wish you’d paid more attention to this post. Don’t date or commit to a man whose values are diametrically opposed to your own.

Too many single mothers make bad dating decisions based on terrible advice and then try to correct those mistakes with children in tow. Don’t do it. Don’t let your kids see you hop from relationship to relationship tryna find one that sticks. And to that point: a) don’t introduce your boyfriends to your kids as ‘uncles’. You’re the first example of dating your kids will see, so don’t mislead by example. b) don’t entertain your boyfriends in your home where your kids can see you. It’s grimy and it’s degrading and you’ll regret it when your teenagers through your foolishness in your face c) don’t allow men to guilt you into introducing them to your kids. Your kids dont need to witness your heartbreak so unless this person has been established BY YOU as worthy, don’t introduce him. Men know that mothers try to set good examples and by forcing an early intro, he guarantees that you wont date anyone else. This is not the same as guaranteeing that he won’t date anyone else, so dont fall for it. 
Dating while parenting isn’t easy but it’s made more difficult by foolishness. Don’t be stupid. Date with purpose, date smart, and don’t allow yourself to believe even for a second that you don’t deserve the best or that you have to lower your standards. I would rather be alone than be with some of the men I meet out there, but that’s because I place premium value on my happiness. Just because you have kids doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a good man who will commit to you exclusively. Don’t let the world trick you into believing you’re used goods and that your dating options are married men and broke students. Dare to be different, dare to demand different. And be happy anyway, single or not. Your happiness doesn’t live in a man, it lives in you. You just have to find it.