And then you have the audacity to ask, "Why are some single mothers so bitter? No wonder no one wants to date them!"

When I slipped into a situation called pregnant, my then boyfriend, the man with whose 100% participation I slipped into that sticky situation, ate something called a corner, or, kwa lugha ya mtaa, alikula kona (swahili). In a callous, brutal way.

Let's say you are a young man, an adult of sound mind. You have the ability to think critically and make sober, mature decisions. You have a good, steady income and you therefore live comfortably in lavishness. Or perhaps you are a casual labourer who lives in a shantytown and you don't even know where your next meal will come from. Maybe you are neither wealthy nor a pauper, but you are managing just fine. Or you could be the jobless guy who hangs out with other jobless guys on a bench outside a neighbourhood kinyozi(barber), talking about girls, or politics, or cars, or Einstein, or current national affairs, or the Lord's goodness, or CVs, perhaps while smoking weed or Stuyvesant blue or Embassy Lights, or chewing miraa with Big G then sipping Sprite straight from the little hole you drilled at the centre of bottle tops.

You wear expensive, specially custom-made suits designed by a popular designer. Or maybe you wear cheap, second-hand suits that are ill-fitting. Or perhaps you don't even wear suits at all; you just throw on whatever decent pants you can get and a shirt or t-shirt. Or you wear old, worn out clothes because you cannot afford new clothing every month. Or maybe you dress in a small, tight t-shirt whose hem reaches just at your abdomen, and a pair of brightly-coloured skinny jeans, sagged, so that the waist of the pants is cutting across your little buttocks and we can see your underwear, or if you wore a vest, then we can see your vest tucked in, and large Timberland boots where your skinny legs disappear into, and a tiny backpack clinging onto your back for dear life.

You schooled in good, well-known institutions and have several accolades under your name. Or you schooled in not-so-well-known institutions but still, have an accolade or two to brag about. Or you went to a little college in the city or your rural town and got a certificate. Or you dropped out of college. Or perhaps you have never even been to college, maybe because you couldn't get money to enroll in a college after high school. Or maybe you completely refused to pursue tertiary education because you are an idiot. You could be a high school dropout too, or a primary school dropout, or just a young man who has never gone to anything remotely close to a school.

You...okay, you are just who the hell you are.

Then you meet a girl. Or the girl meets you. Whatever. You become friends with this girl and eventually fall in love with her and she falls in love with you too. Maybe you don't really fall in love with her, even though she does fall in love with you, but you lie to her that you feel for her exactly what she feels for you. And a relationship is birthed. You call her "sweetie" and she calls you "the man I will marry". And you take her out on dates in grand places and dine and wine in grand lounges and lodges. Life is good. Love is good. Or maybe you take her out on dates in ordinary places, and you eat your meals on a table, occasionally holding hands beside the centrepiece before she shyly pulls away and proceeds adding tomato and chilli sauce to her chips and kuku(chicken) before forking some of it then later wash it down with a soft drink. Or a hard drink. Whatever. Life is good. Love is good. Or maybe you cannot afford going out to places as much as you'd both want, so you take Sweetie out on dates in your house on weekends, where you "chill" and "watch movies" and eat nice meals she has prepared while wearing your shirt and talk about anything and everything and bid each other sweet goodbyes on Sunday evening. Life is good. Love is good.

You are nice and gentle, caring, loving, considerate, a gentleman. You do little thoughtful things for Sweetie and she does the same, because you love her and she loves you. Or perhaps you are rough, abusive, intimidating and you belittle her, insult her, beat her and make her do things against her will, but she loves you, and you love her, as you occasionally say while disgustingly staring at the bruises on her neck.

Then one day Sweetie discovers that she is pregnant. She is overwhelmed with mixed emotions. She is happy, afraid, uncertain and excited, but you are there, both of you will handle the situation calmly, maturely, and with love. Or so she thinks. So she tells you the news, and less than 30 minutes later she is single and alone, having had been dumped there and then, told to never show her face again, told to go kill the thing in her womb if she wants, or keep it, whatever, but you want absolutely nothing to do with her. Your reasons are are all a pile of malodorous bullshit. Sweetie's world is crumbling into smithereens at her very feet. For months after, Sweetie, who still loves you very much, still calls you, asking for forgiveness for whatever wrong she did, begging you to love her again, pleading for another chance with you, a fresh start with the unborn child. You ignore her completely, or you tell or show her that you moved on and are now happily married or in a steady relationship with someone you love, so she should go back to hell, where you'd sent her. And she does.

And then you have the audacity to ask, "Why are some single mothers so bitter? No wonder no one wants to date them!"

Little do you know that YOU are the one who made her bitter. Little do you know that, actually, it is she who doesn't want to date anyone. Stop being a bloody fucktard who thrives on fucktarding the lives of those who laid their life bare to you. Especially where an innocent child is involved.

I bore a son and my joy was restored! When he was still a little baby, the words I would use to describe him included "sooo cuuute!" "aaaawww!" "adooorable!" "sweeeet!" "mommy's little boy!" et cetera et cetera.

He is 5 years old now and words I use to describe him include "UUUUWII!", "GAI!", “OOH LOORD”, "EBU NYAMAZA AMA NIKUTANDIKE TENA! (CAN YOU KEEP QUIET OR I SMACK AGAIN)", "TOKA HAPO!(GET OUT OF HERE)", "ENDA UKALALE! (CAN YOU GO SLEEP)" et cetera et cetera.

Needless to say, the joy he restored has drastically changed into things like "I'm exhausted", "I'm broke", "I have a headache" et cetera et cetera

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