Relationships

Mdu For Love

We live in a filthy city, and no I don’t mean the actual place itself, it’s not there yet. I’m talking about the people.  There’s a saying that in Gaborone “go bechitswe phamo” when it comes to relationships, which basically means “it’s grab and keep, and every man for himself.” Every other girl is a sidechick, knowingly or unknowingly.  Every other chap is either juggling or being juggled.  The couples that stay together are usually either pretending to be happy, stuck together because of all the time they feel they’ve put in, or fighting tooth and nail to maintain their genuine happiness and keep it from the vultures that are always looming around our social circles.

But I know nothing of long term commitments.

So here Othata, having been with her partner Mdu for 4 years and seven months this Saturday [He wanted you to know he remembers these things] shares her story and her insight on what it takes to keep a relationship going in Sodom and Gomorrah.

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People have been asking for almost 5 years now, “How do you guys do it?”  It’s a question that should have a simple answer, one assumes, and yet I fail to come up with one.  For the first time in 5 years, however, I will try to give you my side.
People assume we have a movie screen romance, “love at first sight” type of thing, but that’s nowhere close to the truth. I actually used to dislike this Prince Charming of mine, before I even got to know him! He has always been popular, and at some point I couldn’t seem to breathe without hearing his name. My best friend would tell me “Dude, there’s this guy called Pops at GSS [Gaborone Secondary School], wa [of] ‘Hotboys'”.  They had to be semi attractive if they were arrogant enough to call themselves such a name, but chances were, they weren’t. I’d never liked people who were hyped up all the time, 9 out of 10 times I was always disappointed.
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School would end and I’d get home, time to catch up with my cousin Epe (we lived together, the inseparable twins). I’d ask her,  “So how was school?” as she put down her GSS blazer and the first words out of her mouth would be “So today Pops did this…”   I had to hear about him everywhere I went!
Fast forward a while later, because of Epe I got to know almost half of GSS, made a lot of friends too, some people even thought I schooled there, but I never once met the infamous Pops! God does work in mysterious ways! New friendships were made, we completed High School and applied for Varsity [seems like ages ago].  During this time we were bums, the only thing we would do was go out, where we got all that money still beats me but it happened. And I’d still see everyone, except this Pops person.
We were officially introduced by my friend in ’09 when we were finally being accepted into Varsity, and my goodness, had somebody grown! He was sexy as hell.  Spiked dreadlocks, and like *counts on fingers* 10 piercings [we are grown now, I forgot] and yeah, did I mention he was sexy?
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Long story short, I forgot I never liked him in the first place. The start of our relationship began to write itself.
Getting to know each other, first kiss, making it official, etc. Since I’m not trying to write a book here [I think] let me focus on how we make it work.
For the most part, it just happened, I believe it was meant to be and there was no running from it.  If you believe in Destiny, you’ll relate. I thought I had the option of being single in Varsity, what I thought would be the true meaning of “living life”, but God/The Universe laughed and said “Look at this one!”
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I don’t think you can plan when you’re going to fall in love.  How or where you’re going to meet that person etc. We clicked, became the best of friends, easy as pie! But that’s the easy bit, everything else you have to work for.  Hard. There has to be effort in everything you do: communicating, trusting,  loving, caring, being there for your loved one, and although it sounds like work to many, the beauty of it is doing all this (and more) and not feeling like it’s hard work.
Whenever a couple is fighting a lot of single people think to themselves “Thank God I don’t have to deal with all that”, but in reality, people fight all the time: family, friends, etc. In my opinion it’s healthy for a relationship because after said fight you have a better understanding of each other’s points of view.  The other person’s opinion can actually better you (if you can take criticism), which results in you growing together.
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The key is to form a bond with someone who betters you.
Respect is integral too. You have to learn to respect your other half, that’s the only way you can have a fight and still manage to move past it. The only way you can actualize your potential and support one another.
Another important thing you need is focus, and it has to be from both parties. You need to understand what it is you want in life, [I could give tonnes of examples here].
Does being with one person make you feel complete?
Are you in a relationship but still envy your single friends?
Are you easily influenced or do you trust and understand yourself?
Once you know the kind of focus you both have, you can determine how far your relationship goes, and if you guys share the same goals, it will probably work.
Last but not least is trust.  If you understand each other it’s easy to trust one another and you’ll realize how unnecessary it is to question everything.
What is mean to be, will be.
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Fuck you, Pay Me: On Business, Sex Work and Courting

I often find myself discussing sex work with possible suitors.  Probably a cringe worthy notion to some. Why would you discuss sex work with a man who’s trying to woo you? Won’t that dissuade him?

2 things.

1.   I don’t really care if it does.

2. I’ve found a person’s opinion on something like sex work says a lot about their mindset.

It’s no secret to those that know me that in the future I would love to actively work in the sex industry.  Now here, for most people, their first thought is “She wants to be a prostitute” because to them, it is the end all, be all of sex work.  This thought is usually followed by “Why would a sane [haha, I haven’t been that in YEARS] seemingly normal person willingly want to be a streetwalker?” and when we get here, I have to turn back and explain a few things.

Sex has never been taboo for me. As far back as I can remember, it’s always fascinated me beyond the prepubescent frenzy things kids shouldn’t know causes.  I’ve always wanted to understand it, how it makes people feel, what it does, the effect it has on the body and the mind.  As much as many over the years tried to dissuade me from viewing it in a non taboo way, it hasn’t worked.

I still marvel at how something so simple, so natural, has so much power.  How cleavage can cause a ruckus.  How the female body can be seen as both the Devil’s playground and  a mecca for society at large.  How a man’s body is viewed by society as a Temple, a pillar, no matter how ugly it is.  How the meeting of these two, for pleasure, for financial gain, with consent or without, is viewed  by society.  What it means.

My views on sex were never as simple as “It should only be had by people in love”.  Bodies were Legos to me.  Where’s the fun in only joining the two pieces that fit exactly together? What can you learn from that? What does it create?

Because I appreciated sex, I appreciated those who had it.  You can’t love the product and hate the producer.  Sex workers, to me, were kindred spirits.  I read about them, I watched movies about them, I wanted to know their stories, their backgrounds, who they were beyond what society says.

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And I did.

And the more I understood, the more at home I felt.

I’ve often told people, writing about sex isn’t something I chose, it chose me.  The life that I live is conducive for that and honestly, it comes too effortlessly for me to NOT think it’s one of the things I’m meant to do in Life.

Oprah, Karrine Steffans and Asa Akira are the closest to role models I’ve ever had.  People worlds apart who fit perfectly in my mind when it comes to my goals.  All three women have been trail blazers in their respective fields and are celebrated worldwide for their achievements.

Oprah has an award winning mouth, Asa an award winning anus and Karrine, an award winning mind.

I deem them all glorious.

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I’ve met so many women over the course of my writing career who just needed some reassurance.  A helping hand, an ear. Understanding.  And I have related to each and every one of them.

I have friends who are sex workers and I have friends who are chaste and unapproachable on the subject.  I have seen both sides and I judge neither.

A lot of people use the law to shit on the credibility of sex work.  People who watch pornography and listen to urban pop stars and have galleries full of scantily clad women will be the first to spit on a prostitute should they meet one.  Or judge women with Sugar Daddies.

A person with a favourite pornstar will be the first to yell out how whores are disgusting.

The cold, cold irony.

They pick what makes them feel morally clean without logically and critically thinking of their statements.

An escort and a porn star aren’t worlds apart.

A street walker and a stripper one can pay a little extra for other favours aren’t worlds apart.

Hell, the modern day pop star isn’t all that different from a stripper.

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They all deserve respect but a lot of people don’t see this. Even in the sex industry itself there’s classism.   The porn star will think she’s better than the prostitute.  The lady with the sugar daddy will think she’s smarter than the stripper.

And that is honestly how a lot of people are.

When people ask me with thinly veiled contempt if I’d be a prostitute my response is “I wouldn’t particularly WANT to go into that avenue, I’d rather be an escort but hey..” And it’s not a classist issue for me. Hell, it’s not even a safety issue per se because at the end of the day you end up behind closed doors with a stranger.  Escorting would just be way more convenient.

No, I’m in no way trying to gloss over the problems sex workers face.  The abuse, the rapes, the loneliness and solitude, the shit side of it, but I’m saying, as a society, viewing them as unworthy of compassion or understanding, as less than, because they do what they do, is grossly hypocritical considering that in one way or the other, everyone is connected to the billion dollar industry that is.

Sex work stories need to be told.

Not just porn star memoirs, we need more honest depictions from both those who joined it out of necessity and those who joined it of their own accord. We need to make this a safer place, a stigma free place, for those who partake in it.  And I want to be a part of that transition. A part of that change.

First and foremost I dedicate what I do to educating and assisting. I’ve found I make the little difference that I do through relaying honest experiences and sharing what I’ve learned, and that isn’t changing.

That isn’t changing and I need possible suitors to understand that my mission, my journey in Life, though not set in stone, has a path, and what’s on it may not always be peachy and mainstream.

I don’t desire the “Sex work is disgusting” men. I don’t desire anyone who has a problem with what other people do to survive and thrive, that doesn’t affect them.

And so the “I’d pay for sex but sex work is immoral” people are written off.

So are the “Why don’t you do something more noble?” people.

People need protection and they need someone in their corner.  They need understanding. They need to be heard.  What they do with their bodies does not suddenly rob them of their rights, contrary to what a lot of Governments and society tends to assume.

So, if I do become a full fledged Whore, I will do so wholeheartedly. Because what is ownership of one’s self if what one does is still dictated by everyone else?

Sins of the Father

It’s an unfortunate truth that we all become our parents before we die.  I often think one is made up of both their parents not just physically, but psychologically and spiritually, and if you’re lucky and able to, you add on the little authentic pieces of yourself as you become yourself.

This is how I asses who I am.

When I was young I was my mother. Naive, caring, sweet, considerate, emotional. I was thoughtful and diplomatic.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve pushed my mother’s positive attributes aside and become my father.  Short tempered, occasionally belligerent, secretive, deceitful when need arises, and selfish.

Growing up I never understood why my father was as he was.  It wasn’t until I knew about his background that I began to somewhat understand his behaviour.  My grandfather was a polygamist who preferred his second wife over his first wife, my grandmother, and therefore neglected his children by her.  My father and his siblings would go for weeks on end without seeing him and when he was around, he’d cause a ruckus and then fuck off. My grandmother in turn became resentful and took it out on the children [not so much physically as psychologically].  My father would often run away from home or hide and wouldn’t speak to anyone for weeks on end.

He left home at 17 and went to start a life in Phikwe, close to Bobonong, then eventually joined the army and moved to Gaborone to prosper.

My mother came from a loving, close family in Moshupa. She went to school and lived a peaceful existence.

Now imagine that union.  The two of them together is a trip, to say the least.

Although both of them have gotten this far in Life, maybe what deterred me from becoming my mother was what I regard as weakness from her when it comes to dealing with hardship and things of that nature. There’s such a thing as “too nice”.  Watching how my mother was unable/unwilling to stand up for herself and was constantly crying over something someone else had done, I decided I didn’t want to be that way.

I, however, thought I was too intelligent to become my father.  I thought it wasn’t something I had to stop myself from becoming because deep down I knew it wasn’t okay. Kind of like being a murderer. You don’t constantly have to tell yourself not to kill because you don’t think about it, you just don’t kill.

I learned that the best way to deal with him was to become like him.  For lack of a better expression, it was kill or be killed.

Now my mother, who honestly tried her hardest to shield me from his flaws, has no choice but to admit that I embody them. And it’s unfortunate but I do believe it necessary to be so.

I see it in the way I interact with people, in my romantic relationships and my decision making, I can be a bully and rather irrational. And I swear it’s getting harder to change the older I get.

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Marriage: I do, sometimes.

Everyone thinks they have shit figured out.  We all have opinions on situations we’ve never been in and a mental rule book on how to live that we never consult when issues involve us.

The one thing it seems all human beings are good at, is critiquing someone else’s decisions.

“So and so fell pregnant, she’s silly, why would she? She’s so young.”

“He’s engaged. But he’s only 22. Why? There’s so much to still experience.”

Basically: “So and so’s not doing what I’d do so their decisions are sketchy.”

Our generation has a jaded view on love and relationships.  Many are extremists on the matter. They either believe relationships are for the needy or single people are ill. We all question each other’s decisions with no knowledge on the intricate details of matters.

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Somewhere on this journey of Life I decided I’m dying alone.

Well, not so much decided as accepted, maybe.

And this is the part where I roll my eyes as someone chimes in “Well, we all die alone.”  Yes, thank you for your input Sherlock Hipster.

Raised with the idea that everyone has a soulmate who’ll put up with their shit I went into dating with a certain certainty.  It was kind of like taking shots until you find the one that tastes good and gets you drunk the fastest.  You just knew you’d find it, you had to.

As time’s passed I’ve met my soulmates. [Yes, some people have more than one. I’ve met four so far.] None of which I’ve dated.

I’d gladly marry tomorrow provided the person knows when to leave me alone.  For me, that is the key to a peaceful union: individuality and acceptance.

I’ve dated people who are exactly like me and I’ve dated people who are nothing like me. I’ve been in love and I’ve been infatuated. I’ve discussed baby names and considered how long I’d wait after marrying someone before I’d divorce them.

See I don’t believe marriage is the inconvenience many believe it is, I believe it can be.

I go into relationships knowing things will change. My partner will, so will I, and for me, the main question is: Am I willing and able to grow with this person?

Many people don’t think about that. They don’t wonder if the person they’ll be in the future will be compatible with the person their partner will be.

For me, long term relationships mean committing to the person your partner will be in the future. If you can both agree on doing this, I don’t see why people can’t marry young.

Marriage for me doesn’t equate to “settling down”.

It is not putting your dreams on the back burner.

It is not leaving your dreams to focus on someone else’s.

It’s about finding someone to love you and encourage you as you grow.

My best friend taught me more about romance than any romantic relationship ever has.

In our 8 years together we’ve been many things and all kinds of people. We’ve shared experiences we’ll never disclose. We’ve fought, we’ve laughed and we’ve cried.

I realized a few years ago, the main thing that’s kept us together is respect, love and acceptance.

And here Sherlock Hipster chimes in again “Well relationships aren’t like friendships. There’s sacrifice and responsibility and..”

Yes, yes.

There’s all that, sure.

But the basis of every good relationship I believe, should be those three.

Decide if you’re going to give conditional or unconditional love.

Will you still be there if your partner decides to be a drag queen? Or quit school and move to another country to be a bar tender?

What is it you see in that person and is it enough for you in the long run?

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The Ladies Guide To Dating Multiple Men

Or should I say “How to get Society to label you a Ho?”

Let’s not pretend it’s not logical or even something some of us desire.  Sometimes, you simply want the company and attention of more than one man, and you have the right to get what you want, no? 

As women we aren’t all seeking to be wifed up and baking for The One. Life is like a box of chocolates, and so are men.  You never know what you might get, but it’s up to you which ones you taste and swallow. 

1. What Do You Want?

Do you want to “play the field” or are you seeking a partner to settle with? Do you simply enjoy feeling wanted? WHY do you want this? Knowing this is very important and will guide you when you reach a few snags along the way.  It’s kind of like, starting the gym and having that one picture that reminds you exactly why you do this everyday. Except a lot less, mechanical and calculated. 

2. How Do You Want It?

In the event that you’re in this for the fun of it, it’s quite important to remember that and never cross certain emotional boundaries.  If all you want out of someone is their company and possibly sex, avoid being the “I know we aren’t together but where were you last week I heard you were seen with a Lady” person.  Of course you may feel territorial, it happens, but with enough suitors you’ll find it happens less and less.

If you’re seeking a partner, it’s a different process.  Approach these men with the intent to learn about them before you’re ready to stick the “Boyfriend/Lover” label on them. Looks aren’t enough here, nor are basics manners. You can choose whomever you want , in no rush. Don’t feel the need to snag the prettiest man, or the funniest, even if you aren’t compatible. 

Take the time to weigh your options.

3. R.E.S.P.E.C.T

Avoid men who want to shame you or box you in, period.  These are decisions that you’re making about your Life based on your desires.  Seek companions who respect that, and you. 

You too should respect them and that they may be doing the same thing.

We’re all adults at this point and should feel free to lay expectations on the table. We don’t need to waste each other’s time nor drag people along who don’t understand nor feel comfortable on the ride. 

4. Discretion 

Is the first “D” you should get. No one needs to know your business. Oftentimes one finds themselves sharing every sexual experience, date and glance with friends, and really, we don’t need to do this. 

Granted, there are things you might want to share, and really feel free to. But not everything. It isn’t always necessary and it isn’t always advisable

5. Act like a Human Being, Think like a Human Being

This is not a mind game.  The plan isn’t to have minions and sex slaves clamoring for your time and adoration. 

I am not Steve Harvey and you are not stupid.

Rational, emotional human beings aren’t to be pulled into situations and treated like dirt.

6. Control

You are always in control. You decide what you want, what you can handle and what you’d rather not have. The people in your Life are those who you’ve sought out and accepted. Keep this in mind and treat them accordingly.

7. The sex

Due to society looking down on a woman who lets ANY penis into her, you might find it hard to get intimate with these partners. I say in that case, think of this as a dance rather than a gangbang. You waltz with one dick here, twerk on another there. 

A woman’s sexuality is only truly in her hands when she takes it back from society’s mold and reshapes it herself. 

You can fuck them all if you want to. 

At the same time, if they agree. 

And that’s all you.

It won’t change the world. 

It won’t bring back Jesus.

It simply will Be.

 

 

Who you choose to date, how and why is all up to you.  The fact that people have an opinion on it doesn’t mean that they have a say in it.  You have the right to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of the O, and what kind of different Licks exist, after sushi and wine.

And remember: Shame is an inherited emotion meant for ugly people. 

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Spare The Rod, Spoil The Brat

At some point in time it was decided that children had so many rights that parents were only entitled to one: The right to appease them.  The child had the right to happiness, so spoil them, don’t discipline them, and shift the whole balance of power around to the point where all lines are blurred.  As a result a lot of parents ended up practicing what some refer to as Passive Parenting.  

Despite the fact that my brother and I aren’t what I deem that far apart in age, we’ve been raised completely different.  It’s said that the first child is always the Experiment. Parents try out what they’ve learned over the years on you, sometimes they coddle you other times they neglect you. Sometimes they appease you, other times they shame you for even having any desires. Honestly, the First Child gets it all and if you don’t end up as a basket case, I’m proud of you. 

The Second Child [Which in this case, is my brother, and the last] gets it much easier. See, by this time, Dr Phil and some magazine advice column have told your parents the “right” way to raise children. The right way entails more “communication” than action. More “bonding” than raising and guiding. Frankly, more talk than action. 

As it tends to happen with lines from the Bible, someone decided “Spare the rod, spoil the child” meant just that: Be your child’s bitch, and as it often happens again, everyone followed blindly. 

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All too often I find myself in the middle of arguments between my mother and my brother.  My 11 year old brother yelling at my 50 year old mother to keep quiet and let him speak as I count the number of times I would have slapped him for every single wayward comment he makes. 

I intervene. 

I put him in his place.

I remind him to respect his elders.

I discipline him.

I explain things to him.

And I’m disgusted.

They’re raising a little asshole.

I believe parenting is more raising an adult than raising a child. You don’t coddle an idiot, breed unsavory behaviour then think one day when they get a college degree it will change. 

You don’t raise an entitled, disrespectful control freak then think one day he’ll be a decent human being. 

You cannot raise a tiny douchebag and expect him to be a Prince.

And my mother tells me she doesn’t believe in hitting children so what else is there?

Being quick to raise your hand when your child messes up isn’t always the solution but it’s not the Evil deed it’s been made to seem either.

Hitting your child once in a while will not lead to you paying for counselling sessions in the future and nor will it turn them into a serial killer. We were hit and we turned out just fine. [Kind of, but, you know..Our problems don’t stem from being disciplined “too much”.]

My mother didn’t have to hit me for me to respect her.

She didn’t terrorize me. 

Contrary to popular belief, Black parents aren’t irrational tyrants who keep us all in line with belts and cuss words. 

I respected her as a provider, as a care taker, as my mother, as someone who knew more than I did. It was only when I became a teenager that I started talking back and engaging in dialogue with her and even then, it was to understand things. [Of course teenage angst played a part in me trying to come for my mother’s wig sometimes but..hey..It happens.] 

I didn’t respect my parents out of fear, I respected them because I understood the contribution that they made to my Life. I also respected them because they wouldn’t expect anything less from me.

Now? Not so much.

When did our parents start raising full out unapologetic brats and why?

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Was it when people started using half baked psychological knowledge to explain their wayward behaviour?

Did the stories of serial killers whose mothers physically abused them scare ours into believing every single slap would make your child a psychopath?

Who do you blame when your child knows you’re afraid of them and so takes advantage? Who do you get mad at?

Who’s at fault when you were so busy out buying books from people who don’t know your family, some of which have no kids themselves, that you built no relationship with your child?

Who do you blame when you realize by the time they’re a teen, you can’t really do much?

What are you going to do when you realize you’re not really a parent and are now merely someone to finance their lifestyle and teach them how to be a dick?

The Help: Sex with the Maid

Today while dropping a friend’s nephews off at home, I met their maid. A simple woman,really. Bald, dark skinned, she was in a torn t-shirt and track pants. No one worth remembering. Or at least I thought so until she picked up the toddler and turned around to walk into the house. 

 

My first thought at seeing her behind was “Fuck. Hey! How does the husband of this household function?!” after which I reminded myself that not all men cheat, while still staring at her butt in disbelief and slight admiration. I watched her walk away and kind of understood why a man may get the desire to sleep with the maid.

On the other hand, I realized, not all men who sleep with the Help could sock it down to simple Lust.

Society usually blames the woman for her husband’s cheating. There’s always something she’s lacking that made the husband stray.

You could be the breadwinner, cooking everyday, bathing the kids, washing the dishes, paying school fees, sweating wine and feeding him chocolate from your cleavage, and when that man cheats, society will look at you and say “Sure, whatever, she did all that. But she didn’t help him put on his shoes that morning. It was her fault. She should be ashamed. What did all that hard work get her anyway? She should have known her place.”

And that’s what those deep in The Patriarchy think.

A woman’s place is in the kitchen and if not there, wherever her husband wants her to be. 

If you aren’t there, you probably deserve to be treated badly because you’re a disobedient slag. 

Working class women often get the worst of it, it seems. 

In a society that is still mostly misogynistic and patriarchal, the woman who steps out of the kitchen/bedroom and decides to be more than Somebody’s Something is a sell-out. To other women, women who don’t share her views/drive, she thinks she’s better than them. How dare she? Who does she think she is? Is she saying that THEY are slaves? Stupid? Fuck her.

 

And so when Working Woman’s husband strays, maybe even leaves her for the maid, in their eyes, she deserved it because she wasn’t “playing her role”.

I began to wonder, assuming, as a working class woman, you marry a man who appreciates the path you’ve chosen, and you end up with a rather hectic workload, is it possible for the man that you settled with, no matter how open minded he may have been in the beginning, to cheat with the maid, and if so, why?

Simple Attraction

We begin to get accustomed to those we spend time with. We expect our partners to not fraternize with the Help because they’re employees and should be treated as such. But frankly speaking, it’s quite possible for the two to develop feelings for one another, whether lustful or otherwise. And in such a situation, you, as the woman of the household, have nothing to do with that. It’s easy to assume it wouldn’t have happened if you’d spent every waking moment with your partner. But who knows?

 

Basic desire/appreciation for people who take care of us

We grow fond of people who make us comfortable. Many men, with a patriarchal mindset or otherwise, might gravitate towards the maid simply because they feel cared for by her. 

Power

On the other hand, assuming these don’t apply, we get what seems to be the typical scenario. It’s a power thing. This man has a servile woman at his beck and call who gets paid to attend to him and he may not know or care that there are lines in that relationship/situation. He’s attracted to the maid not because of her person, but simply because he has power over her and in his eyes, can control her. 

Some maids are receptive but more often than not, they aren’t and they end up getting raped and remaining silent. Or adding Sex With The Sir to their list of chores to receive just a bit more at month end. 

 

Your Maid’s a Vixen

Or, you were unlucky and hired a vixen. One who made it a point to know your husband’s underwear size and schedule before she knew where the washing machine was.  And in such a situation, I can only hope you have an honest husband who’ll tell you what’s happening and not one who views the situation and sees an opportunity to make his porn fantasies come true.

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Adieu.

On Love, Fear and Courage

The thing about falling in love is just that..You fall. Truly loving someone is not a calculated procedure that can be stopped with a thought or ignored when it suits you. Whether you let yourself or not, you drift into a situation that is, often, more than you think you can handle. 

The older you get, the harder it may be to love, or LET yourself love. We all have stories and vivid memories of heartbreaks. Songs we skip, names we avoid and numbers possibly yet to be deleted. Break ups are more than unfriending and blocking, no more texts and phone calls. You have to remove a person from your Life. Stash away the memories, pretend you no longer care until it’s true, and do it all gracefully. You drink and run the risk of drunk texting, you cry and chastise yourself for not being over it yet, 

And after all that, you remember it all.

The empty promises, the disappointment. That eventually, the Good was followed by a shitload of Bad and Embarrassing. 

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And then? 

We clam up. It’s easier to be jaded than care and risk it like that. 

While discussing the possibility of falling in love, a friend said “No. You can’t. That’s not you. You think it’s stupid. You don’t believe in love.” And the thing is, I do. Probably a bit too much.

I have a Love/Hate relationship with Love. It’s a weird “I love you so much I need to leave you because if not you’ll kill me” kind of vibe. Love engulfs me and I lose sense of reality. I love recklessly and passionately and because I know this, and know that not a lot of people can deal with it, I try not to do it. 

Here’s the thing about Love: Most of us have no bloody idea what’s going on. We don’t know what we really want, most of us know what we THINK we should want. We don’t accept people as they are, we don’t accept ourselves as we are. Relationships have become closets where we go to feel safe and have company and have sex, maybe occasionally be vulnerable, and most of us disappear as easily as we appear. 

We lack stability. 

We lack commitment. 

We lack certainty.

We lack comfort, and know not the meaning of the word “honesty”.

We avoid vulnerability.

And I know this. I also know that I am absolutely terrified of being vulnerable. 

And with that revelation comes the truth that I cannot expect a certain level of intimacy without vulnerability. 

And I wonder if Life is constantly about being strong and overcoming fears and insecurities. I know Life, Living, involves action, but nobody tells you how appealing it is to be stagnant because you’re terrified of messing up, the older you get. 

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My Milkshake, My Instinct and my Yard

I adore seduction. There’s a certain intensity when it comes to interacting with someone you want to sleep with and yet haven’t, that’s unparalleled. At that point in time, you’re your most alert, your most charming, and they are too. It’s an electric time where the simple lingering touch of another’s hand or a look with a coy smile could provide more satisfaction than an actual kiss at that moment. I love the suspense, the charm, the sheer brilliance of the simplest of moments.

The romance with the blatant sexuality. 

I always say I have no idea how to flirt. In actual fact, I’m not really sure HOW I attract people, I like to think I give off a certain Angelina Jolie-esque smoldering gaze but I could be wrong. For all I know, when I’m being truly honest with myself, my seduction process is basically me squinting a lot as I turn my head to look interested and drop a lot of sexual innuendo in conversation. Tell me that’s not brilliant..

I find I prefer to seduce rather than attain [in the relationship sense]. To be fairly honest, most of my sexual conquests are out of sheer curiosity. I meet people and wonder what they look like when they cum, how their hands may feel, what they might like or want to try, and based on that, I pursue them. It’s more about satisfying my curiosity than actual lust.

There are lovers who are wide eyed when they brush their fingers against your lower lip and you suck them. Those who are pleasantly surprised when you’re the one slipping their hands into your pants and those who simply want you to pretend to make love to them.  Lovers who tentatively traipse into bed with you, with hidden desires and fears, expecting the same routine only for you to show them that it’s okay to be free. To help them explore that side of themselves, even if it’s only for one night, as it usually is.

And sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, it worries me that I sample people in bed the way one might try exotic dishes. 

After one such encounter recently with a friend, he began to avoid me and when I confronted him about it, he said it’s because he thought I might expect more from him. Truth be told I got a healthy, hearty laugh from that one and had to sit him down to explain that no, in fact, I expect nothing more from him and as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t really happen and no, it isn’t such a big deal. Besides, he has a girlfriend who I consider beneath me so dating me, God forbid, would probably wreck his brain. 

He was confused, still is, and is currently convinced that there must be something wrong with someone who isn’t seeking anything from anyone else in that way.  It’s odd to him that no, I don’t want to be loved romantically, nor do I really need an orgasm most times. 

I could simply be looking for experiences and nothing more. This could just be a phase. 

And if it isn’t, I could be Sharon Stone’s character in  Basic Instinct, in the making.

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A Battered Basketball Wife:On Evelyn Lozada and Society’s view on women and abuse

I personally don’t believe that a man has to hit me to know that he shouldn’t. Nor do I believe that love is pain and everything about affection and human bonds needs to hurt. You either have to be a certain kind of broken person or an irrational romantic/masochist to be able to confidently say you would tell your own daughter to go back to a man who’s hit her because now he’s “learned his lesson”. Why does him learning his lesson have to involve ME getting bruised and stitched? Why does it have to take countless tears and counselling on my part for HIM to grow as a person?

Why does he have to disrespect me and hurt me to learn the meaning of respect, and even if it does, why should I go back to someone who can’t grasp the basic concepts of respect, communication and boundaries?

[more]

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