Tag Archives: relationships

Mistresses

Medicine is my lawful wife and Literature is my mistress; When I get tired of one, I spend the night with the other” Anton Chekhov

I tend to think that each of us individuals placed on this earth have split lives; what we normally do and what we actually enjoy doing. The lucky ones are those who have successfully merged what they normally do with what they actually love and adore doing. The other denizens are like me: trying to juggle our wives with our mistresses. Like a man who is cheating, we will leave all the dirty laundry:the soiled shirts, the tantrums,the silences and smelly socks( I really do not know why I have included this one here)to our wives and head over to the mistresses, clean shaven and pristine with a big smile. I really do not know what I am talking about, seriously! And for the few minutes of whatever it is that the man goes looking for in the mistress- adventure-something he feels he cannot find at home,we will bask in those few blissful moments before we head back home. This post is not about men nor mistresses per se. It is about careers or whatnot.

This space here is my little mistress, the second one actually! How much can one be unfaithful? Some of us harbor thoughts of the grandeur of being writers but we do not have the courage nor the fortitude of getting into the trenches of actual writing. We therefore, take a detour to blogging hoping against all hopes that as we explore our thoughts and ourselves, we will finally come up with a strategy to finally write that story that has been pushing to be written.

My wife is teaching- teaching kids how to communicate using a foreign tongue, trying to mold their mother-tongue infested lips and tongues into shape such that they can communicate to the world- never mind that most of them might not see a world outside their village. I take my wife very serious because of course my survival as an individual and my ability to pay my bills depends on my herein performance with my so called wife(no pun intended)

My main Mistress is Literature- like Chekhov. Sometimes I swear to myself that I will leave it for good, but during those nights when the thought of waking up tomorrow and showing up to work plague me endlessly, I crawl onto her shoulders and find the comfort among the many pages that she has to offer. Early this month, in my one of those crazed bouts against my wife, I registered for a very demanding course that will take me(at least) the next three years! I feel overwhelmed. I am second guessing myself and doubting my ability to deal with it but because money( from my wife) has been poured I have to stick with it. I am guessing that my second mistress- this space will suffer a lot but I promise myself and to my mistress here that I will show up regularly and satisfy the need to tell a blank page my thoughts and fears hoping against hope that one person in the vast blog-sphere ocean will read this!
So this is to all of us juggling different mistresses in whichever version and face they come in! May we find the adventure that we are looking for!

Broken hearts

Every woman knows when she has met that one man who will leave her with the broken pieces of her heart clutched in her hands. And I am no exception.
As this year descends in its last lap dance, I am left grappling with the uncertainty of my life, my hopes and my aspirations. I find myself
standing at a crossroad wondering which road to take: the less travelled or the familiar beaten up road.
For the last two years, my life has been quite simple, split between work, my extended family and my boyfriend, squeezing time between  these three has been a huge challenge coupled with working away from the capital city where he resides and a very hectic work schedule for both of us.
Now all that has been upset and I tell you it is not pleasant.  Relationships aren’t easy and I am not an easy person to be with. They have always been hard nuts for me to crack. I have never gotten the hang of it really.
It is usually ‘you are too much of a woman’ or ‘ too questioning’ or ‘ too critical’ or ‘too proud’! And of course  the moments where you are left hanging without knowing what it is that you never did wrong!
So this time round, I am left holding the broken pieces of my heart and the added mystery of not knowing what it is that I did wrong.
I am very sure that by the time the year rolls around to the last month I will have figured out how to mend my broken heart and how to move on.
I would also have to decide whether my studies deserve another try and the direction my not so illustrious career should take. Its not really easy to make a life altering decision in the  aftermath of a break up but I will get round to it..eventually that is!
Now if you know how to make a relationship a success, enlighten me in the comments section.

Dating a writer

I am dating a writer- a critical writer- at that! Am I or was I? I was…then it all went south. The tragedy is that it might have been my misuse of commas while I texted or my gross grammatical errors in the name of trying to save energy while typing, who does that? It was good, the dating not the typing. It was good while it lasted, but then what lasts these days? Five months… five months of unbridled pleasure and passion and then silence…unexplained,cold, bitchy silence.!No phone calls, no texts, nothing from the brilliant writer. My one unanswered call and a text in three weeks is  enough indication that things aren’t right. I have read all there is about breakups and the one advice that i shouldn’t call or text is proving to be a tall order to execute . So before i succumb i decided to pen it down.

  I thought dating this brilliant mind would open endless vistas of ideas in my brain, I thought somehow all that brilliance would rub into me- talk of being vain- and by sheer luck, I might pin the next blockbuster novel or movie, or even come up with the best thesis ever. Well I was wrong, we never argued and of course we never discussed any great ideas, we never even talked about anything other than the humdrum of life and lastly his brilliance never rubbed on me. I should have been wiser!

Problem is, I honestly believed that this would work… not the soaking of the brilliance but the affair. After all we felt it way back, why did it all go wrong? It must be this football thing- does the club that a guy support really matter in a relationship? I really should ask the next one man I meet which English football club he supports prior to becoming serious. There is some sort of tragedy every time I date any guy who supports Chelsea or Manchester United and it seems I have the bad luck of meeting these guys. So I am writing a reminder to myself to stay away from the above. After all I am a woman and I don’t give a hoot about football and no, we never argued about my dislike for soccer and yes I listened eagerly without pretending when he talked about his team! I know this might sound like a lie but I am a good listener, a pretty good one!

I do not know why he left. He never gave any bloody explanation! I can withstand a breakup but somehow the men I date seem to think if they say they are leaving, I might have a heart attack or break something.  Truth is, I  consider myself a  damn strong woman who can take anything! But that is a story for another day.

So I am writing this as a way of finding some sort of closure. I need it to move on and if I don’t write it out, this story will torture me until I scribble it all over the place. So Mr critical writer, did I lack intellectual acumen that could stimulate your brilliance? Was it my misplaced commas and dangling modifiers? Or my sheng texts which competed with your high brow English? Or was it my disinterest in soccer? What exactly went wrong? Did i say anything unbecoming? Did i deny you anything? Did I fail to meet your expectations? or did your desire for me wane? I actually thought this was working. Whatever it was, your indifference actually hurts. It really does. Every gal deserves an explanation- even if it’s a damn lie why things aren’t working. I enjoyed the illusion, because in hindsight, it just looks like that. I wish I never believed anything that you said-especially those declarations of love, but its too late for regret, fare thee well Mr critical writer!