A man who has money is beauty for women just like how men look for beauty in women. Granted you wouldn’t marry a woman for her beauty but it sure helps. Money is attractive, money is intoxicating, it has the promise of fulfilling all your dreams. Visions of not having to struggle anymore, gracing balls wearing designer clothes burdened with sparkling diamonds that hang on your neck and wrists, driven in luxury and escorted by royalty. Which girl wouldn’t want to be Cinderella for a lifetime? This time the magic doesn’t dissipate, the clock keeps ticking, the fairy godmother on speed dial and the glass shoes keep on multiplying. Living in Mansions, walking on marble, oversighted by crystal chandeliers, swimming in heated pools and served by foreign butlers. There enters the Gold digger, the manifestation of every man’s fantasy. She represents a tunnel in the repressed subconscious mind. She fulfills you in every way you desire. She subjegates herself to you, granting you power. She soothes and fills what’s lacking in your life. She is your escape in a world were routine triumphs. She is exciting, new and forbidden, uses her body to make you yield into the temptation of her bosom. You can squeeze if you want to, that’s the whole point. She’s yours for a price. The esteem and prestige of being your wife, but no prenups. Also, she wants to be included in your will, a stake in the inheritance fund and half of everything you own and oh, she’ll get it all. Her cunning intelligence guarantees it. You are her gold mine and she’s not letting go. Unlike the typical woman who operates with the right hemisphere of her brain, she is a blend of both hemispheres, she is both feminine and masculine. She is not just a woman whose emotional and acts on her feelings, she thinks, she plans, uses reason and logic, she has drive, she is ambitious! You are the route to her Gucci and Louis Vuitton bags, bespoke designer clothes, red bottoms heels and summer vacations in Monaco.
It was difficult to defend against the Blitzkrieg attack because it enveloped the enemy and crushed it with great speed. It gave you no time to think, no space to move, you were crushed by the weight of the attack. The perfect gold digger is akin to a blitzkrieg attack. You’ll never see it coming, she will crush you and dispose of you faster than the speed of light. Great gold diggers will seduce you, play to the repressed qualities of your being, ascentuate their body features, lower the pitch of their voices, play the demsel in distress, regress to a childlike persona, dominate through passivity to sink their claws in, marry you for your money and then divorce you. They are the definition of deception and smokescreens, they disappear like an illusion, like a dream, like it never happened. After you it’s on to the next one. You have to admire gold diggers because they are ambitious, they are driven, they have will, they want a good life and you are a means to an end. Gold diggers have balls, what makes them great is their ability to tap into their masculine sides while maintaining their femininity. That ambition will get you everything in life. I would love to be a Hugh Hefner, a magnet for gold diggers. To be surrounded by young, hot, beautiful women and have the relationships be platonic and transactional, using my pool and walking around the house in nothing but their birthday suits, oh Hugh cracked the code, the Playboy Mansion is heaven!
Women cheat, men cheat, its human nature no one is perfect. Men cheat a lot but women are better cheaters. Women play the game better, they think long-term. Men just want to fuck. It’s not even a contest, your lady can break you down. She can cause permanent damage to your psyche, she can flip the switch to end your life. You don’t want to know who’s dick she’s sucked. And when she cheats, you won’t know a thing. Bet money now, you’ll get the biggest shock of your life! This is because female nature is more cunning in nature. It’s more chaotic and creative. The masculine brain is more leftist and derives it meaning from reason and rationality. The masculine brain wants to instill order while the feminine brain just doesn’t give a fuck, it wants to see everything burn! Nothing and no one is out of bound. Its difficult to catch your lady in the act of cheating because usually everything is so premeditated, so precise, there is so much detail, so much care, the deceptions, the story has had time to grow, ties that used to be platonic are metastasizing into something more. To go through with the process of cheating they need to feel secure, so most likely they will level up from the relationship they are currently in. It’s not uncommon for them to level down because sometimes the nigga with a bus pass has better dick game, but that’s for short-term results, they usually level up. They will be in stealth mode and wait for you to fuck up, they will even bait you to it and when you trip, leave your tired ass. Men on the other hand get caught cheating 9 out of 10 times. Men don’t invest as much as women in keeping infidelity a secret. The bare minimum will suffice and if they are caught well “I am sorry, I’ll never do it again” but that’s really just bullshit because men cavet everything. Everything is emotions with ladies so when she cheats it’s a double dagger to your spirit because she stopped investing in the relationship emotionally and started an entirely new portfolio with someone else. It means she stopped loving you, she stopped respecting you. If she stops respecting you then it’s over. It’s not redeemable like a voucher. Women can move on much faster because they stopped investing in you emotionally for quite some time and it might come across as cold and sudden but oh, it’s not, she has been stacking up your fuck ups for months and years. Women hold grudges and they remember everything. It’s useful for when they want to get back at you! Men on the other hand just want some pussy, it’s not deep, just some short-term gratification, it won’t hurt anybody, no one will ever know. More body counts doesn’t mean I love my lady less, just means I was hungry, I wanted some pussy. Let’s be real, men were never made to settle with one partner, that’s not how evolution works. If that were the case, our species would be in trouble. Men with strong genes have to take the lead, they get preferential treatment, if it means mating with more suitors then so be it. Strong genes signal vitality, health and life. It’s simply nature, has been that way from the beginning of time. There’s also the case that women outnumber men by 5 to 1. God is not an idiot. Women domesticate men for survival, it’s hardwired into their brains, we can understand that but it’s a projection and an attempt at control and is not really natural for men. When you really think about it, marriage is a fancy word for domestication. A man must sow his seeds and so he is bound to fuck up, it’s hardwired into his brain, it’s in his genes, his just gotta get variety on that pussy. When a woman cheats on the other hand that’s blasphemous! There is no coming back for a woman who cheats but “I can change” for a man who does, it’s expected, it’s his nature. Double standards I know but we are not hardwired the same. Women and men are not the same not even a sex change can alter that. Intent matters, we cheat to satisfy different things. Love and sex can be separated for men while love is a byproduct of sex for women. Cheating for men is hardly malicious, cold and calculated but it usually is for women. A woman will fuck your cousin to get back at you, now family gatherings are ruined forever. I know times have changed and women are more liberated with their bodies but have you ever been with a woman with a high body count? The intimacy, the connection, the warmth, her love, it’s all wrong, it’s not the same. She’s cold, distant, out of sync, avoidant and probably damaged. You can’t build something of substance with someone like that, she’s not interested in building anything. Where is her value? Where is her feminine essence? Body count matters especially for women, for men it’s just sex. Women can’t be in the casual sex game for the long haul whereas men can test drive different generations.
He’s pussy whipped, the claws of her vagina reeled him in like a fisherman and now he’s dangling on a string gasping for air, castrated and flat lacking a pair. He’s pussy whipped, a woman pleaser, always on her side but never gets to please her. Yet the woman is a rental and every man gets to lease her. He’s pussy whipped, on his knees begging for the cookie. Buying the whole shop but he ain’t never sample the pussy. She be controlling him like Lucy, using all her mental capacity to keep him in the deep sea, like we look good in this picture boo, see. He’s pussy whipped, respect and dignity evaporated like steam. She’s his biggest achievement, he’s retired, he never gets the cream. It’s a nightmare, it’s hard not to scream. Gave up his life and forgot about his dreams. He’s pussy whipped, worse is that she don’t respect him. Pitched me her pussy to make him the fool. Tore that shit apart cause I am so cool. Licked the plate clean and got rid of the drool. He’s pussy whipped, emasculated and mute. Has his clothes picked out, he’s a baby his cute. Never astute, follows the skirt like he doesn’t have a choice. Docile and obedient cause he doesn’t have a voice. He’s pussy whipped, without the pussy, he’s a simp! My nigga, get money, get pussy be a Pimp!
Are you telling me I am about to lose another Amy? God give me a break. Nah, this is uncalled for. This is unfair, I did everything you wanted. Why are you doing this to me? My goodness, I just can’t catch a break. I don’t accept this, nah I deserve more. I just can’t lose another Amy, they are limited and it’s not just that, he won’t enable her to fly and that what she deserves, the sky, the solar system, the milky-way, everything! I’ve lost so much, I have sacrificed so much. Currently, I can’t offer you much but the other guy can. He is strong and masculine and I am just chasing dreams. Money is slow and has been that way for a while, it’s the reason we are in this position. Success for me isn’t guaranteed, I am one of many. Why would you want to be an entrepreneur? Trust me, it’s an overrated experience and reality is not as glamorous. I believe I am the best but that’s not enough, a billion men have perished. I wish it didn’t have to be this way but I accept, after all my strategy is long-term. Maybe Amy isn’t the one, I dread that relevation because it means I have to start all over and I don’t have the energy to project and experience things anew. I doubt I have it me to fall in love again, theres a hand full of Amy’s and they are all taken. Time elapses and life difficult so I understand, I wish you all the best. What a pity, she had everything, the boobs, personality, the face, body, wit, the brains and just about everything! She was perfect but I accept, you are my sacrifice. At least you were mine for a while. I set you free, I wish nothing but the best for you. You deserve beautiful things.
I did love you Amy, I had plans. But life is difficult and never goes according to script. I had it all figured out but Mothernature doesn’t care all that much for my plans. Sometimes I think that I will never fall in love again. It’s difficult for me to fall in love, you were an exception and then I got another exception and now all my exceptions are gone. Deja Vu, it’s the past repeating itself. I am losing another Amy.
PS. When I was in high school, I wrote a poem for a concert that I was going to participate in. I thought the poem was good but I wanted feedback. My friends weren’t going to give me constructive feedback and so I asked Amy, she was in my class. I trusted her judgment, I thought she was amazing. When we were seniors in Primary school, she beat me in a speech competition. I was great but she was better. I gave her my poem and the next day she told me what she thought. As she was delivering her verdict I zoned out a bit and stared at her boobs but I recovered and heard everything she said, don’t judge me! True, I was thinking and picturing her naked but I was still listening! She wasn’t impressed with my poem. Her remarks was that there wasn’t feeling and emotion in my words. It was superficial and I did a lot of unnecessary rhyming. She said my words lacked empathy and compassion. She said she understands that it might be too hard for me considering I am a boy and she’s referencing things that come easy for her because she’s a girl. Then she gave me an example of what she was talking about with a poem about hands. It was so descriptive and emotive, her adjectives were powerful and rooted in reality, there was feeling and her words had empathy. Her poem felt real and personal. Her example caressed my spirit. I changed my poem and wrote another one. She changed my writing style and my artistic process. She made me realize that feminine traits are artistic in nature. I learned to caltivate these feminine traits like empathy, listening more, compassion and understanding throughout my young life and my work has gotten better. I am better. Also, I can attract the opposite sex with the greatest of ease, it’s not an ego thing, it’s just what it is. Trust me, I can take your girl if I wanted to. My reworked poem turned out great too, the crowd loved it, I loved it. I implemented her advice. She made me a better writer, I am still reaping the fruits of that interaction. I pray God gives me another Amy.
I love you because you make me suffer. What would I do without your bruises that color me black and blue like police sirens illuminating the troubled corners of my life that keep me grounded and lacking an escape. Your toxic fumes are like lilac perfume, intoxicating mesmerizing and disguised in a costume. Your love is like a fire that consumes, decomposing my troubled past like corpses that have never been exhumed. I love the penicillin apologies that make the pain go away, numb like anesthesia it gives me a blackout and I forget everything and return to your warm embrace. You are the route to my soul, the navigation that leads to all, a single glance in winter and I can never forget your face. Cold and distant your demeanor, loud and bashful, you defeat her. I love you because you make me suffer. Your love to my heart is like burning Sulphur, excruciating and burdensome but worthwhile and satisfying because it makes me feel. I can’t live without you, you are my Achilles heel.
I could get my way with liquor and poor judgment, sure she’s hot and my chances with her are slim but what if I disguised the date as an undertaking of two colleagues getting together after work for another project, a side hustle, an opportunity to generate something, make it worthwhile for her, concoct something that will pique her interest. What exactly? I am not sure, I am not exactly a ladies man and their interests are foreign to me. I hypothesize a free meal will interest her, it’s biological, we all get hungry. Maybe I play the long game, buy her lunch on occasion, make her comfortable around me and associate food with me. A little operant conditioning never hurt anybody and I wouldn’t have to sustain it, it’s only until I get my way. You know what they say, food is the way to a girls heart. Or is it vice versa? Well, who cares? If I move just right I can get her to dinner. I am a decent guy, then maybe we talking and exchanging interests. Maybe we get to our common interests and discuss our future. With liquor and bad judgment we laughing and touchy touchy, maybe it leads to a kiss, who knows? The end result could be coitus.
They say you don’t know what you have gone till it’s gone, it’s true she’s gone. I was too slow chasing dreams and immortality. And now our future is dead, buried under my voices of rue. Come back, back, back. We were almost something special and magical like the pyramids of Egypt. But you could still mummify us and bring us back to life like Isis. The queen of my heart. The story behind my art.
Don’t be a romantic is what I gathered from Johann Wolfgang von Goete’s book “The sorrows of Young Werther”. The book tells the story of a passionate doomed love affair between a young poet called Werther and a beautiful clever young woman named Charlotte. Unfortunately for Werther, Charlotte is married, so the love affair is impossible from the very start but that doesn’t stop Werther, a dreamy and practical young man who loves the arts above all else. Werther is under pressure to have a sensible career and join the bourgeois life but he can only think about one thing: the impulses of his heart. Eventually young Werther can’t take it anymore and kills himself, but rather than condemn him as a lunatic and a hothead, Goete one of the founding fathers of romanticism directs all our sympathies towards Werther. We are supposed to be on his side admiring his passionate and entirely impractical attitude to love. I think that love is a biochemical that the conscious mind can’t detect. We often find it hard to account for it when it is in process; it consumes and controls leaving us in a remote state from our mind and body.
Romanticism seduces because it comes from the works of artists, poets and philosophers. I am drawn to Amy Winehouse in a way I cannot truly comprehend. I reckon because she died lonely, depressed and misunderstood – I find those elements seductive and soothing. I want to be there for Amy, I love Amy, I would give my life for Amy, I would do anything to make her happy. I am seduced by her tragic death, by the fact that she was vulnerable and alone – I am seduced in a primordial, primitive sense. I was intrigued by her and based on that evidence I can hypothesize that I am a romantic. “Hypothesize” because it is not a fact nor a concluded statement simply because I know with certainty that the world of romanticism was fabricated by mortals. Therefore you can choose to be excluded from this mass hysteria.
Romanticism is what I call “Kayfabe” a termed coined from Professional Wrestling which means the portrayal of staged events within the industry as “real” or “true”, specifically the portrayal of competition, rivalries and relationships between participants as being genuine and not of a staged or predetermined nature of any kind. You could argue that everything in the modern world is “Kayfabe” and you’d make a compelling argument but that’s a topic for another day. We all know “romanticism” is “kayfabe” – a concept fabricated perceived as good and effective but disastrous for couples in the modern era. Evidence of this can be found in the high divorce rate, the anxiety storm in the west and the demand for drugs from pharmacies to help elevate stress and depression. The drugs don’t help because no one is happy. Striving for happiness is like an unquenchable thirst: we may attain some brief satisfactions, some momentary release, but in the nature of things these can never be more than temporary, and then we are on the rack once more. So unhappiness, or at least dissatisfaction is our normal state of affairs. Romanticism promises eternal happiness something that is not possible because happiness is expedient. Romanticism is ruining relationships.
Romanticism is being deeply hopeful about marriage. It united love and sex. Previously people had imagined that they could have sex with characters they didn’t love and they could love someone without having extraordinary sex with them. It elevated sex to the supreme expression of love. Romanticism made infrequent sex and adultery into catastrophes, proposed that true love must mean an end to all loneliness. It promised that the right partner will understand us entirely possibly without needing even to speak to us. Romanticism believed that choosing a partner should be about letting oneself be guided by feelings rather than practical considerations – that you are loved because you have a “special” feeling. It has manifested a powerful disdain for practicalities and money. The myths have reached cult-like status. That we should meet a person of extraordinary inner and outer beauty and immediately feel a special attraction to them and they to us. That we should have highly satisfying sex, not only at the start but forever. We should never be attracted to anyone else. That we should understand one another intuitively. We should have no secrets and spend constant time together. That our lover should be our soulmate, bestfiend, Jesus, Allah – My Universe! Oh, this is an extreme case of kayfabe and is now almost embedded into our cells – our senses. It has become a world of destruction that we walk into willingly with everything – our hearts, souls, hopes and dreams and come out empty-handed with nothing but battlescars that never heal. Romanticism is not love. Romanticism is a world that is fabricated solely from psychological needs.
Urban poet Kanye West expresses that “Love is cursed by monogamy” in the hit song “No Church in the Wild”. I think this is partly because of romanticism for now love “restricts” and “confines”. It has become contractual and formalized. It is now bounded with a checklist of do’s and don’ts. It has become about expectations and ownership. Love is passive with no will to power or the courage to be imaginative. It is cursed, set in stone, in a spell, intoxicated, bad and ruined. Marriage and monogamy should be expressive, open-minded, mature and enable the beloved to grow and self-actualize. This is reflected in the movie Emmanuelle about a young woman who takes a trip to Bangkok to enhance her sexual experience. The young woman is happily married and her husband encourages to follow her desires citing that Emmanuelle is not his property, and not his beauty – that her beauty belongs to the world. This enables Emmanuelle to grow and trust in the relationship because of the mutual communication, respect and honesty. To love someone means to see him as God intended. There are no restrictions to Gods lenses – no confinements. All he wants is for you to flourish and fly as nature intended. All life is meaningful.
Pop star Adele expresses love in its truest forms in one of her songs on the hit album “21” lovesong: “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again, whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am clean again”. Those are words with meaning, words that matter, words with a lot of love, words that are full of serenity, words that provide a second chance, another glance at life. They are pure, heartfelt and honest and what I liken love to be like – a second chance to truly be myself, to share the best of myself and be all that I can be. To be liberated – I can be that when I am with you. It’s practical and concise. It builds and regulates one’s conduct and character, it inspires – it is love.
In my analysis of love; Love is not gratifying desire, love is not sex. Love is a perfect seduction process conducted by the unconscious or sometimes conscious. It requires time, patience and plenty of mirroring. It is effort, real effort and requires you to be at the peril of the beloved sometimes simply because it builds and consumes energy generated by the other. Love is give and take, but mostly to give because it amplifies the soul of the other, elevating both of you to realms unimaginable. Beauty leads us along like a ladder towards the promise land- the soul. Love is a longing for perfection. Love is a demon, it consumes and demands more and more. Love is a longing for truth. Love is the longing for wisdom, knowledge and beauty- eternal beauty. Love is the longing of the perfection of the soul. Love is timeless- immortal- eternal; no lover believes in time. Love is to get a friend a book because a book is a combination of spirit and matter, information which is matter when consumed becomes Spirit to the mind. Love is to mutually share music or other things that constitute as art. Love is to share passions. Love is helping your beloved towards his or her journey of self-actualization. Love is being with someone who will never give up on you. Love is your bestfriend. Love is your family. Love along with art are the only things that make life worthwhile, because like we established life is tragic and full of heartaches and the only thing we have to look forward to is boredom, suffering and death. In my conclusion if you want “Love”, don’t be a fool. Delay gratification and expedience, go long on the exponential chart- in other words take your time, never rush anything.
I am convinced that there is nothing better than a Xhosa woman. They rank at the pinnacle when it comes to the women of the world. Of course, this is only my experience, my map of reality. Xhosa women have that something extra, that something special. Apologies that I don’t have the vocabulary to describe them but how do you describe someone like Arjen Robben operating on the right flank? I know I am drifting towards soccer but please bear with me, I am making a point. Do you have the superlatives to describe the brilliance of Arjen Robben? Someone who dominated football with his trademark finish. You know it’s coming, you know his going to cut in from the right and curl the ball with his left foot. You have seen it a million times, you have analyzed it with attention and great detail, you know it’s coming and yet there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. How do you describe that phenomenon? What do you say? I think Xhosa women are like that. You can’t describe them. All you can say is “that’s something special”. I have been in love with Xhosa women all my life. They are my cheat code. They make me weak on my knees. Plus they have a Miss Universe, how do you beat that? It’s impossible! Zozi Tunzi is a standard, a real thing of beauty, she’s something special. I have at least 2 Xhosa women in my top 5. I remember I used to have a crush on Zolani from “Freshly Ground”, remember those guys, remember Zolani? Ah, she was something special! Congratulations to the whole group for making authentic beautiful music music, I am still a fan. Imagine Eastern Cape, a place where they are made. Isn’t that place heaven? I think the Xhosa tribe have a good energy. As a people they are progressive and they have vision. They are an intelligent people. I mean how do you beat Nelson Mandela and Trevor Noah? That’s huge! Xhosa people are our best. This comes from a subjective reality and analysis. This is bias commentary, this comes from my love for Xhosa women. Xhosa women are rooted in my past. My first kiss was with a Xhosa girl. I fell in love for the first time with a Xhosa girl. I imagine my future life with a Xhosa woman. I want to be Proust and recapture lost time. I want to be self-indulgent and reminisce about the past. Also, I am done reading “In search of lost time”. I did it with a year to spare. Thank you for the lessons Proust, you taught me so much about life. I can’t believe how I enjoyed reading your book but I digress. This is my conversation with the Universe. I also hope to attract a good quality Xhosa woman, so to the Universe do your thing man.
I love the Facebook tradeoff, sure it’s exploitative but it gives you a choice. Choices are good because we are all in charge of our lives. Like I stated in the past Facebook has a wonderful business model, I envy Zuckerberg and the team that started it all. I like the tradeoff like “give us all your data, we want to know what makes you tick, we want to know your location, we want to know your favorite food, your favorite movies, books hobbies, we want to know what makes you laugh, what outrages you, we want all your memories and pictures, we want to know your virtual communities, we want to know your dreams and hopes, we want to know EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU and in exchange for all your data, we will show you pictures of your crush. Fair trade don’t you think? What would I do without Facebook? These guys are life-savers! I recently saw a picture of my crush and I lost my mind! Damn! She’s still the hottest thing under the sun. My Xhosa Queen, the woman of my dreams. So it seems like I am still a customer Facebook, you can have all my data! “Fell in love through photographs, I don’t even know your name, wonder if you follow back, I hope to see you one day, I won’t show my nigga now, I’ll keep this one for myself, love today has gone digital and it’s messing with my health.” Oh Cole my nigger! But maybe that song is misleading, I didn’t fall in love with my Xhosa Queen through photographs. I was mesmerized by her beauty every day. And she used to send me pictures, pictures that made my mind moonwalk. I can’t put into words how her energy made me feel. She was truly something special. I was in love with her, she was awesome and had everything in the world that I wanted. She was perfect. What a compliment the concept of love is. When you are in love with someone, you are observant and focused on that person and in time you get to know everything about that particular person. You get to know the walk, how she stands, how she sits, her body posture, the back of her head, her voice and her laugh. All this becomes second nature to you. You are intrigued by her and want to know everything about her. You can’t wait to see her and when you don’t the day is automatically wasted. I felt a void in me when I didn’t see her. It was a physical void that could not be filled. My energy was down and my spirits could not be lifted. For the day, I would be like a phone on flight mode, utterly useless. Like the Goddess she was, she had the power to make my day. She constructed my ideal of reality. Her presence and energy nourished my soul. Seeing her motivated me, because if a woman can’t motivate you, what can? Maybe I should start from the beginning. This is the story of the first Xhosa girl in my top 5.
She was one of the girls I have ever fallen in love with. I had known her since our teenage years. I waited after High School to ask her out. I expressed my undying for her. To help me with my course, I had chocolate, I had learned how to design logos and I designed one in a form of her name, it was so dope and I wrote her poetry. I fitted all the content (the logo and poetry) on one A4 paper and I laminated the paper, in my mind to make it last forever. Damn! The whole lamination process was expensive! It cost my R20! But it was fine, I had a vision and I needed to do everything in my power to get this girl. She was too important to me. The chocolate cost me R15 and transportation costs would be around R40 roundtrip. This was good. I was motivated. We met up and we had a good time. We had a good conversation and I went on the offensive. She listened to my story and gave me an audience. We hugged and we parted ways. I remember feeling good about myself. The metamorphosis was complete, I transformed into a butterfly that day. Finally, I did it! I was relieved. I was proud, now I can die in peace. It was a very good day. However, I was too overzealous and persistent. We were not on the same wavelength. Poor girl, I was relentless, it was embarrassing. I was unfair and selfish. I was too expedient. I wanted her right now! But she handled everything like an expert, a pro, she is so good, she is too intelligent. I am talking about Emotional Intelligence and the ability to regulate other people’s emotion. To control the situation and steer it in the direction that was best for the both of us. Wow, I was impressed, she was awe-inspiring. What a woman! I understood that time was my best shot. I needed to be patient. I needed to respect her. I needed to be more sensible. I needed to be her friend. I needed to be a human being. And so I started playing the long game, it was my only chance, I couldn’t risk pushing her away, she is important, her spirit motivates me somehow, I can’t explain it, she’s just something special. I was willing to do anything, she was worth it. I believed I worked harder than anyone, I believed I was more patient than anyone, I believed with time I would have a chance. And I did, it took a couple of years but the game plan was a success. She started giving me her time and we would meet and have awesome, awesome conversations. She told me about her life, her family, her hopes and dreams and I was in heaven. To the Universe thank you for giving me time with her, I am appreciative and grateful. She was worth the time, the years, the effort, she was worth everything, My Xhosa Queen.
