This article is in response to the comments made by Ed Razek, the Chief of Marketing at Victoria Secret. My own personal relationship with Victoria Secret is non existent because firstly their designs and quality is nothing noteworthy or stimulating. I can get similar for cheaper at Primark and this is probably the reason why their sales and overall brand equity has declined. Secondly its a company directed by men for a product used when females feel their most vulnerable and exposed by people who care little and about how their operations degrades female’s self worth. I’m not naïve enough to think everyone participates in political consumption and boycotting, but I’m at the stage in my life, where I can only buy products that complete my soul, support my existence or desire to thrive.
I an not Victoria Secret’s fantasy woman because I have a “FUPA”, I have scars and stretch marks, plus my body is riddled imperfections such as cellulite and discolouration. I know I will never be any type of model and I’m okay with not being Victoria Secret’s fantasy because I’m someone else’ fantasy. Trying to make someone live up to a fantasy when they live in reality is moronic. Victoria Secret has openly admitted to trying to make their company an aspirational brand (i.e. something for everyday females to aspire to, but not attain). I aspire to be healthy and happy not underweight and hating my body, as Burna Boy/ my mother said “I can’t come kill myself”. I’m not going to make myself feel bad because I don’t have my ribs or hip bones poking out, my legs jiggle and my tummy isn’t a washboard.
My issue with the brand is not with their desire to use skinny modes, its their desire to use only the skinniest of models and their reasoning behind it. This article isn’t an attempt to skinny shame because its universally known that Victoria Secret pick unhealthily thin models, who by their own admission frequently go on extreme exercise and diets regimes to conform to their fantasy. Victoria’s Secret reinforce the misconceptions that unrealistic body proportions and near perfection, is the only way to be perceived as beautiful or desirable. This could be marginally morally justifiable if they didn’t exploit the finances and self esteem of consumers who’s don’t fit their fantasy. They believe people should only be one size yet make clothes for people who don’t fit their fantasy purely for capital reasons. Victoria’s Secret cruelly capitalises on females need to feel beautiful due to societal pressures. This is a classic marketing ploy and one of people’s main gripes with capitalism. I’m a marketing graduate so I know that companies stimulate a need or feeling of incompletion, in order to coerce and persuade consumers to purchase a product.
This post is somewhat premature because I’m planning to publish a post exploring similar themes (i.e. how society and to a certain extent, consumption culture has resorted in chronic and pungent sense on inadequacy and inferiority). Marketing is the identification, anticipation and satisfying of customer need profitably. I have no issue with this as a principle, I just find it deplorable when marketers fuels self doubt and insecurity to create a need to fulfil the process. This is what Victoria’s Secret are doing and I hope hell for them is just how South Park describes it.
I’m not anymore bothered by Victoria Secret’s latest fashion show or the comments made by their Marketing and PR department, than I was last year. Victoria Secret is run by white men who want females to conform to their perception of beauty to satisfy their ego and bank accounts. I’m not going to lie and pretended the artistry overall aesthetics of the fashion show, isn’t amazing but their unique selling point is the architectural wings and the wire bras. Neither one is available for purchase (…so?), also quite frankly Carnival costume designers are catching up and once the Soca community figures out a way to make the wings bigger but still manageable on the road, the entire fashion show and brand is obsolete to me. I’m not going to frequent or patron a company that treats me with disdain. So Victoria Secret I’m not your fantasy, but I’m someone’s fantasy
I’m wearing the ”ASOS Gia High Apex Lace Body” in black. Unfortunately this body is old/ last season and you’ll struggle to find it on the ASOS website, but I believe that there are some second hand retailers on eBay selling some pieces. I absolutely adore this body and I’m not just saying this because I love ASOS and the fact that they have made me feel sexy at any size – because sometimes they have misses – this is genuinely an amazing body. I’ve had it for a while and purchased it when I was several sizes bigger, thankfully I can still make it work. The cuts outs are incredibly flattering and cinches me in at the waist, the high leg isn’t so high that a lip hangs out and it has adjustable overlapping straps at the back. The straps are wider than most lingerie bodies, which makes it comfortable and suitable for bigger cupped ladies like myself. The hold ups are from my beloved ‘Ann Summers – “Black Lace Top Hold Ups’.
My entire existence now more than ever is bawling on a budget. I love lingerie but neither me, my account or brank’s overdraft procedure can justify spending over £100 for a set. The difference between luxury and high street is mainly just quality of the material (i.e. you can get extremely cute designs at a reasonable price). Here are my favourite 5 budget/ online high street lingerie brands.
Don’t be misled by the French name, ‘Pour Moi’ is a UK brand that caters for all kind of ladies. Pour Moi make bras for you, whether you require padded or non-padded bras, full cup or half cups, balcony or plunge. For me (lol) they make the best soft cup bra and bralettes for bigger girls. My first ever straping-style and non T-Shirt bra was the Obsession Bra in Black/Pink. I hate to be this cliché, butttt I was obsessed from the second I tried it on. I used to prefer T-Shirt & Plunge bras because I thought the padding gave me a slight boost and a rounder cleavage, but that bra completely dispelled those misconceptions. It gave me the cutest cleavage ever and the additional strapping gave me the sex appeal, y’all girl needed.
So I’m obsessed with Playful Promises and for future reference, if you ever want to buy me a gift card, it should be for this store. To start off with their name is everything and they cater for standard and fuller cups at a reasonable price. They specialise in pin up vibes and grown woman glam. I’m not even a major vintage chica but I love the muted seduction of high wasted waspies and suspender knickers, also harnesses are life. Their product line is incredibly diverse with different collections (e.g. Peek & Beau and Betty Page) in an exhaustive range of sizes. What I love most about them is that they only make subtle adjustments for the bigger cupped ladies. A major pet peeve I have is when companies disfigure a bra to make it more “practical” for larger cupped lady. Playful Promises keep the sensuality and feminity without giving me unintentional boob spillage or an overall ham in string vibe.
I’m a massive ASOS-aholoic. In 2013 ASOS Premier service stole my heart and the ability to have all my retail therapy needs swayed me. I had to wait a couple of years for ASOS’s Fuller Bust range to catch my attention, but when it did my bank account definitely suffered. ASOS’s core lingerie range is adorable, very feminine and every lace based consisting of an awful lot of triangle and plunge bras
I tell every fuller figured lady to if nothing else visit Curvy Kate. Curvy Kate cater soley for ladies with the larger cup with sizes ranging from D to a wopping K. Similar to Playful Promises, I love the fact that they only make bra for larger cups. I hate seeing the different in cuteness levels between the core collection and fuller bust collection, Curvy Kate make one bra that works for small and big cups, which is all I ever want. For me Curvy Kate are the perfect introduction into lingere as the produce cute everyday, comfortable bras with adorable prints and patterns. My mum is obsessed with their full coverage bras and she love the width of the straps. I like how secure I feel in their bras and their sheers bras are stupidly cute.
I was hesistant to include them because their main collection is focused on smaller tittied girls and I’ve been a DD from the age of 13. But they recently expanded their brand to include DD – G cups. It’s not fully comprehensive but it’s definitely a start and their stuff is CUUUUTTTEEEEEEEE! Cute is the ultimate adjective but their stuff isn’t even cute its sex They make the perfect rip “breakfast, lunch and dinner underwear”, Unfortunately like most standard size bra company’s who expanded into the fuller bust range, it’s not as sexy / revealing as their core collection. It has more padding and coverage but still very cute, very sexy, very much I’ve ready for bae to grab me from behind.
Honorary mention has to go out to Ann Summers. It’s quite obvious from my Instagram feed that I have a loving relationship with Ann Summers. They make cute yet sexy everyday bras with some special pieces at amazing prices. My main reason for not including them in my top 5 is because their imitations of luxury brands such as Agent Provacteur, Stylish Pia and Edge of Beyond are on the tackier side of life and several items from their new collections, are repeats of their previous collections. Nonthenless Ann Summers are still a staple and make the perfect stepping stone into lingerie addiction.
This is my introductory lingerie post and it has been the longest time coming. This section of my blog has stayed empty for the longest time because although I have a heavily invested-in lingerie addiction, my soul esteem isn’t always present in a quantity that allows me to show it. Naturally you may ask why do I buy it, especially if I don’t show it and honestly, I couldn’t give you a reason other than it feeds my soul. I’m perpetually single, so it’s not like I’m buying it to spice up things in the bedroom or impress a potential “bae”. Also I say this knowing a large majority of my fellow lingerie lovers would attest to the fact that most guys barely care about lingerie, they admire it for the 5 minutes then it’s off. They’re more likely to rip and tear it, than admire the delicacy of the tulle or lace, complement the print, or notice the accentuation of the frills & bows. I can emphatically say that I buy lingerie solely for me.
Lingerie is just my vibe, it’s an absolute mood. I probably own more underwear than outer wear simply because it looks and feels better. Lingerie is made to feel good against the skin, even the basic cotton bras allow your body to breathe. This shoot/ set of pictures perfectly encapsulates my entire vibe. I tell everyone my “brand” is chilling in satin nightwear set or a babydoll drinking white wine. I can honestly say I never feel more contempt and self-assured than when I’m in something sexy nestling a glass of wine and/or a teddy shaped hot water bottle. Some people love onesies but I love and prefer being in satin night wear. Especially when I’m sleeping with satin bedsheets and duvet cover – slipping and sliding is the way to go ALWAYS. Waking up and slinking out of bed puts me in a better mood – I’d be lying if I said other “stuff” doesn’t help. Lingerie like other things is just something I like to do for myself. I don’t think sexy lingerie should be a delight permissible to individual’s who have a significant other. Especially now when most people are reliant on external validation (e.g. social media engagement and lies from guys), to prop up flailing self worth. There’s nothing wrong with trying to look good for “bae”, but sexy lingerie shouldn’t only be worn in attempt to titillate someone else. I’m just at the stage in life, where I like to admire my own titties sitting right or seeing how the longline bra snatches in my waist. I think all woman should invest in a nice lingerie set. Lingerie is both empowering and inspiring.
This outfit surprisingly wasn’t a dedicated lingerie set, I bought all the items in this “set” individually but it goes together perfectly – thank God all the high street stores copy each other’s style. I love it because it’s very oh I wasn’t expecting you to pop by even though I “accidentally” texted you. The colour on my melanin is everything I needed – it’s not everyday the conventional black, red or white in the boudoir – sometimes add colour. Also despite all the items being super cheap, the satin isn’t scratchy or irritating on the skin. The kimono is oversized and swamping with batwing sleeves which I love because I feel like I can hide in it but still serve angles. The oriental kimono is from Boohoo with the matching bra top from Pretty Little Thing. I could not believe my eyes when I found the bra on Pretty Little Thing. I already had the kimono but found it too overwhelming and a bit much for everyday, so I was overjoyed when I found the bra in the sale section. The only draw back about the bra is that because it’s a top it has no support or underwire, which is irritating when your boobs are natural, heavy and sag like a mofo. The shorts were borrowed from my Ann Summers’ Dakota bralet and short set, which unfortunately I barely wear because the Dakota top is unflattering on me. The shorts however are amazing.
I’ve given you a little introduction to my love for lingerie. I promise you future lingerie posts will be less literary and more visual. This lingerie section will feature some product reviews, countdowns, try on and some “looks”. I am going to serve you face, body or cuteness. To make up for this lengthy lingerie posts, here’s some outtakes and candids from the shoot
Carnival is my life and I literally spend 11 months of the year waiting for this weekend. For me carnival fever starts from the first pre-Trinidad carnival warm up playlist – all the way in February – and lasts to the end of summer. My devotion to Soca and everything bacchanal related culminates and terminates with Notting Hill Carnival. After Notting Hill Carnival, Soca raves become few and thin, the nights gets colder and darker, people get meaner and the energy gets sadder. So before winter starts and my life changes I have to exert all my summer soca energy in those 4 days.
Carnival weekend for me always starts with Bacchanal/ Carnival Friday and a live DJ set from the one and only soca phenomenon aka ‘DJ Private Ryan’. His soca playlists are the soundtracks to my life, they’ve gotten me through breakups, revision, coursework and endless journeys. Bacchanal Friday is the closest I’m getting to Soca Brainwash until Trinidad 2020, so my attendance is compulsory. The atmosphere was everything I needed though, slightly ruined by a DJ who played one too may joke cheesy Caucasian songs for my liking, but DJ Private Ryan was life so I pulled through. My whines were fluid, my tic tocked effectively and my bampsee was doing bits.
As the name suggest, Saturday was a just vibes day. I decided to skip raving and go to free day rave called ‘Just Vibes’, that took place outside Southbank Centre. It wasn’t a “turn up” environment and focused more on the cultural aspects of carnival. Also the crowd wasn’t slightly more mature than I’m accustomed to, but the scene was picturesque. For me seeing waves of Caribbean flags, in front of a backdrop of the iconic London architecture (e.g. London Eye) during sunset was everything I need. Most people are aware of the history regarding Notting Hill Carnival, so to be in an authentically Black British crowd, listening to Soca, in a year that exposed the Windrush scandal with the House of Parliament in the background, is everything a self-confessed “Ratchet Intellectual” requires.
My actual carnival experience opened with J’ouvert, which I played with ‘Chocolate Nation’. The idea of being dancing to soca while simultaneously throwing and being covered in chocolate, resonated me in every way. Shocking this was my first time playing mas and not storming and freestyling on the road. How unfortunate that the one time I decide to not storm is the day the UK throws a rain storm in my path. Despite the absolute torrential rain, it failed to dampen the spirits of us masqueraders, as echos of the lyrics “How did you expect to come to a wet fete and expect to not get wet” travelled round the street parade. Black people hate to get wet unless it’s for carnival. Honestly between the rain, chocolate milk and my lash extensions there were times where I couldn’t see and I called do was dance. It was a blind bruk out and I loved every second of it. There’s something incredibly liberating about capturing whine while being dashed with chocolate milk, paint and coloured powdered.
“We partying sun or rain, we don’t care what people say. Once the music hits me veins, so much power I can’t explain… we phenomenal “
The crowd was slightly smaller which I don’t mind because it meant there was no rushes/ stampedes and it freed up space for me to whine and drop it low. Playing with a band is so much fun, the aesthetics of the monocolour, striaght vibes and for once in my life not being chucked out of the masquerade was fun. We turned into judging corner dancing to “Phenomenal”, which was perfect coming together of song and situation – the Soca Gods definitely gave me powers.
The anticipation and excitement for carnival was ripe from the second I woke up. Although I met my friend in Stratford and carnival was literally on the other side of London, the atmosphere was pungent. People literally travel in from all over England to come to Notting Hill. The weather was better – not particularly warm but mild with no rain. The dancing and acrobatics was amazing; I saw people dance on moving truck tires; move like they had no vertebrate; and defy laws of gravity on sheer momentum and desire to hold the whine. That is carnival… that is my Notting Hill, this is what I know and love. I’m sure as a result, relationships ended prematurely, people were grounded and people didn’t have homes to go to, but c’est la vie/ c’est le carnival. Also your friend is not your friend if they don’t help you balance, while you’re dancing with someone. The costumes this years were amazing, the level of bedazzle, embellishment and “skin-out” was awe-inspiring. Also the diverse shapes and size in the cos and bring colours on melanin was lit. Typical scenes of people dancing with police officers, females being daggered on the floor and group pictures made it feel like home. Before I retire from misbehaviour I will head top and split in the middle on the Ladbrooke Grove bus stop, opposite the chicken shop. It is my destiny, the same way it was Harry Potters destiny to kill Voldermolt and Luke’s destiny to bring the force back from the dark side. My story doesn’t end until I achieve that level of no behaviour.
Both the two days of carnival were amazing. Monday was utterly amazing and honestly it felt like a movie, but Sunday was definitely my favourite day. I don’t know if it was because it was the first time I played mas or because the atmosphere was absolutely soul replenishing and nutritional. For me carnival is all about the carefree vibe, the wickedest behaviour and people “carrying on bad”. I feel like Sunday’s rain washed away all the negative, un-rhythmic and unseasoned individuals, who frequent carnival only to pacify their need to be “urban”. Furthermore Monday’s carnival is filled with too many social media “influencers” there to just stand, stunt and take pictures or hosted by brands trying to co-opt the meaning and cultural significance of carnival. I could talk endlessly about the excess of police officers, but hey they have to inflate the budget to demonise carnival somehow. I just feel like on Sunday, everyone’s attitude, boujiness and high maintenance antics were left in their houses because “What do you come here for… bacchanal and water”.
If you’re interested in seeing any footage from my carnival experience, please check out my Instagram as my carnival instagram story is saved as a highlight on my page
I think as equality amongst the sexes increases both socially and financially, the nature of the male-female relationship dynamic has mutated. It’s more than feasible for males and females to be just friends but friendship is evolving to where the parameters of what defines friendship has eroded. It’s more than just either platonic or romantic. I’ve realised that I haven’t had a standard and conventional friendship with a male since my Jamally when I was 18
Emotional Fluffer (def): a friend used for the emotional benefits of a relationship, while the physical benefits is taken care of by another individual with whom no emotional connection exists.
The nature of my personality means I have a compulsion to nurture and look after people. People who know me on a non superficial level know it genuinely makes me feel better when I’m there for people I care about. My affection sometimes presents itself as maternal and to female friends as just as intense friendship but occasionally it has been translated into a weird friends with emotional benefits situationship aka an emotional fluffer. Me as a person just want to know how your day is going, inquire about your overall wellbeing and mental state and check that you’ve eaten and that work was okay. I don’t mind this particular position because it’s not an instance of unrequited love. It’s more I’m just your friend and I’m willing to be there in whatever capacity you need me. I’m an emotional fluffer for my friend who’s last ex girlfriend was a bitch who treated him badly and didn’t care about his feelings. I harboured no sense of attraction towards him. I just wanted to be there for him as he rebounded and clocked up numbers to his body count simply because he needed someone to be there for him. There are some people who I don’t mind exerting emotional labour or energy for; he means a lot to me so for me it was literally just whatever you need. I didn’t mind because I didn’t want him to rush into a relationship with someone just because he was missing certain emotional benefits. Our friendship only functions on the mutual sexual repulsion and our non tactile friendship.
“Let me help you take off your shoes, untie your shoestrings, take off your cufflinks. What you want to eat boo… let me feed you. Let me run your bath water; whatever your desire, I’ll supply ya”
Friends who fuck aka friends with benefits is a familiar phenomenon. The concept of fuck buddies is as embedded in popular culture as the term ‘MILF’. Friends with benefits is self explanatory – you’re friends with sexual benefits i.e. you’re friends who have the delight and advantage of fucking casually. Sometimes it’s a series of dick appointment to tide you over when you’re sick of the burdens of relationship or too busy for their bullshit/ relationship logistics. Sometimes it’s an informal agreement to have sex in between relationships and dry spells – orgasms keep you regular and sane As someone experiencing the driest of droughts and the resultant irritation of sexual frustration – I get the appeal of fuck buddies. Rationally the concept of friends with benefits make sense – I have an itch and I need someone on occasion to scratch it. But I know what I’m like, I know I’d want the itch scratched consistently and I’d want the scratcher to only be scratching me. I have a great level of self-awareness and I know I’d miss the scratcher when he wasn’t around and eventually want a relationship. I really wish I could have a friends with benefit because lowkey my hand is cramping and carpal tunnel is incredibly real but I know myself. I’m resigned to a life dependent on Ann Summers until I’m no longer unattached.
“I’m not trying to pressure you, just can’t stop thinkin’ about you. You ain’t really gotta be my girlfriend. I just want to know your name.. then maybe we can sometime we can hook up and just chill”
Romantic Friendship (def): a very close but typically non-sexual relationship between friends, often involving a degree of physical closeness beyond that which is common in Western societies
This is a weird amalgamation of the 2 previous relationships and for all intense purposes my ideal situation. Wikipedia describes it as a relationship characterised by innocent hand holding, cuddling, massage and sharing bed/ co-sleeping without sexual intercourse or physical sexual expression. I’m an incredibly tactile person who craves affection and a chill, informal vibe – I literally wasted a year of my life trying to find a companion to engage in “match of the day and chill” with. I’m just a person who likes physical companionship and affection – that’s not synonymous with romance. I literally just want someone to kick it with while watching TV, drinking wine and eating cheesecake, while embraced in a spoon. I’m aware that what I just described sounds likes a relationship but this type of relationship doesn’t actually include sexual activities; I just want to cuddle as friend and playfight as homies. In the past I’ve had mild experiences of this type of friendship and recently tried to enter a similar situation. My most recent attempt failed to materialise/last because our relationship transitioned through too many different stages – from potentially romantic to platonic. We tried to create a platonic”ish” situation that failed which downgraded to romantic friendship. He struggled with the nature of friendship because at one point an erotic/romantic situation was on the cards. Also although my romantic feelings for him had dissipated, my carnal urges (when inebriated) were reluctant to remain dormant and he was the definition of complicated/ an irritating and confusing shit.
“It’s never safe for us not even in the evening ’cause I’ve been drinking, Not in the morning when your shit works. It’s always dangerous when everybody’s sleeping and I’ve been thinking… Can we be alone”
This right here is basically my new soft spot in terms of friendships with males. It’s essentially a platonic friendships with bouts of innocent flanter (flirty banter) – this is different to phone sex friends – which I wasn’t aware of but during my research, discovered its apparently a “thing”. The friendship in itself is pretty trivial with nothing deep or substantial discussed and are subsequently my favourite distraction. Flirty friendships just work for me because I’m a tomboy and dirty jokes are what I’m accustomed to. The lack of substance and lighthearted content is freeing because I don’t always want to have intellectual conversations or talk about my feelings – I do that enough. This is part of the reason why my “platonicish” relationship failed because my mind is a dirty and filthy place with humour vehemently situated in the off-colour/ blue side of life. My naturally dirty mind is translated into venacular plagued by double entendres, graphic imagery as well as lewd and explicit language. Deep conversation and flanter is hard for some to process but I’m particularly reckless with my mouth. Akim and others refers to my out of pocket language as wayward and it grosses him out because we’re so strictly platonic. Sometimes I’m flirting just to flirt but sometimes I’m flirting to test the waters, see if you’re on my wavelength and suitable for something more. Consequently within my “friends who flirt” catergory, is a friends “with potential” subsection. Our friendship is flirty and potentially it could develop into something more but neither one of us have taken it further than innocent friendships.
I like male friends and companionship because that’s what I’m used to but the way friendship has evolved has blurred the lines. Certain friendships need to be stripped down and simplified into “just friends” and nothing more. I need to remember to set boundaries within friendships and not compromise my objective, self respect or needs. Like if I’m only comfortable with one type of friendship or not in the mood for progression then the friendship can be terminated.
In the words of Keyshia Cole, “I changed my mind, I don’t want you no more”. I feel like I’ve only just finished editing my last post about re-entering the dating pool, only for me to decide “computer says no”. In the past couple months I’ve been on a few dates and talked to a few guys and have come to the decisive conclusion that dating definitely for mr. I’m officially tapping out! I’ve realised that there’s probably a reason why I’ve been alone for so long. Some guys prematurely ejaculate, I on the other hand, prematurely invest emotions into individual and situations. I commit too early and lack the emotional maturity to serial date. Its 2018 and I’m meant to be talking to multiple people, but I’m the dickhead who finds a favourite and alienates all other suitors, who eventually get sick of being ignored and stop trying. Regrettably although I would’ve severed ties with all other potential baes, my favourite wouldn’t have and “Mrs. Moves Too Slow” over here is subjected a sad yet familiar conversation. “Maria, you’re a lovely girl and I like you, but there’s someone else… you’re amazing/ a catch… you’ll find someone”. This means I have to start the arduous process of finding someone else again and I feel like I’m stuck in an endless cycle of getting to know someone but nothing serious materializing;I hate this process!
It’s emotionally draining and a wasteful exertion of energy. I hate being subjected to an a militia of questions all on the same topic – what do you do for work, how long have you been single, what do you do in your spare time etc. Even when we pass the initial formalities, it’s still an extremely frustrating situation because the majority of apparently “available” guys are incredibly annoying, obnoxious, overtly sexual or have conflicting sociopolitical views as me. The fact is dating unless for business purposes has always relied on the person’s appearance. I’m not sating that this is necessarily a bad thing because honestly a certain level oh physical attraction is required. Like in an ideal world I’d be with someone who’d stimulate me mentally but would also make me want to jump their bones. Unfortunately the likelyness of this occurring is incredibly minimal, most have disgusting views towards women or are incredibly stupid. I don’t mind a lack of academic knowledge – formal education isn’t for everyone – but no common sense, a lack of wokeness or ignorance regarding certain political views is something I won’t tolerate. I don’t have to luxury of not belonging to several marginalised groups and I need someone encouraging and supporting of my endeavours to eliminate misogynoir, bigotry and oppression. In open conversation I frequently express my views on certain issues and if I don’t like the person’s response, I’m immediately over them. I’m often presented with the meaningless and obsolete response of “I hear that, but I’m not really into it”, guess what I’m not really into you.
This situation is intensified by the fact that I have to schedule dates in between my obsessively anxious behaviour that makes me plan events months beforehand and days dominated my depression and ideation. Also once I get to know the person I then have to decide when to disclose my emotional instability. Normally when I tell guys, I’m emotionally unstable they laugh and insert a comment alluding to all females being emotionally unstable.I don’t find it funny and then have to awkward explain I have a universally medically recognised mental health condition called Emotional Unstable Personality Disorder. I simplify it to anxiety, depression and bad moods swags with hyper-sensitivity and inability to deal with stressful things. I get the “oh it’s not bad… I don’t mention the dissociation, cutting or ideation –
The fact that Adele is working on another album to be released next year, is God telling me “no boo, it’s not for you”. I cannot experience another heart break or the inevitable emotional turmoil, while sobbing to Adele again. After ‘Birthday Blues’, I promised myself I would spend chapter 23 working on myself. I’m going to spend this year committing to therapy and medication – if a nigger decides to sweep me of my feet so do it but I’m heavy. I have emotional baggage and I eat a lot of cheesecake. I’m fine being single its, just a lonely existence. I “self indulge” enough to know I’m lonely not horr
Other than that I’m gucci and laidback. All I need in this life of sin is the 4Cs: correct grammar, consistency, cunnilingus and cuddles.
So it’s that time of the year, I’m dating again. Yayy…not! I’m the original anti-dater; I’m just too awkward, it feels like a job interview and my anxiety is crippling. So then why am I subjecting myself to this torture again? My desire to enter into the dating pool is for several reasons; my brother’s wedding is within the month (I have no intention of trying to catch the bouquet); the thought of another cold and isolating winter alone, “frustrated and emotionally destitute is disheartening ; also “I would be lying if I said” that Dani and Jack from Love Island didn’t have me in firmly situated in my feelings.
“I’d be lying if I be saying you weren’t something I wasn’t into”
Also I’m a second generation Nigerian and echos of “when will you marry” and “your mates in the village are…” have encircled my safe place. Trying to watch Rick & Morty while being tormented by constant reminders of my biological clock is beyond infuriating. It’s intriguing that despite the clear and distinct differences in Western and African culture, both are emphatic in their pursuit to marry females of a certain age. It’s instilled from in females from an early age that their entire existence is focused on matrimony. I grew up on fairytales where single character was either married, widow or a mythical creature. This isn’t another feminist article on the inherit misogyny within Disney – the rhetoric is quite frankly played out. Disney’s archaic portrayal of females as invalids who exist solely to be rescued by their Prince Charming beyond problematic but at least they’re trying to rectify it. I just think it’s particularly telling that in the original version of the fairy tale, Prince Charming preys on Princess Aurora aka Sleeping Beauty’s vulnerable status, kiss and then rape mid slumber. “Prince Charming” thought it was appropriate to have the resultant children feed off her teats likes a sedated cow – Aannnywhooos…. the obsession with sinless copulation and matrimony doesn’t lie solely with Disney, romantic comedy and dramas are essentially adult fairy tales and fuel spinster guilt.
“Meet me at the altar in her white dress, we ain’t getting any younger we might as well do it… Let’s get married”
Much like the Disney princesses I grew up on, I just want a nice and kind guy. Some people used to have “dreams of fuckin’ one of these little rappers”, that was never me… I wanted a simple guy who’s want to settle down and with to have 2.4 children. I tell everyone all I want is affection, attention and warmth. Sincerity and honesty would be nice too but alas that’s not my fate. Unfortunately I’m stuck in a cycle of dating “ain’t shit” guys. I’m not the type to ignore the red flags in a relationship and any suspicions of deceit, malice or fucketry results in termination. Sadly I’m fooled by their sheep clothing and I fall victim to the faux nice guy and pseudo Prince Charming. The only guys interested into me are less Prince Charming, more Prince Charles with a wife, a girlfriend and separate side chick.
“Trying to convince myself I’ve found one… Making the same mistakes I never learned from”
During my teen years I went through a persistent phase where I wanted someone damaged or mentally unstable. My hormones were polarizing, which combined with my emotionally intensive nature had me craving a passionate and volatile Bonny and Clyde situation. My soul epitomizes the tortured artist and it floated around trying to find its pair. I wanted someone unbridled, uncensored an unrestricted, who didn’t think about the consequences. I wanted the combustion at the expense of my sanity. Love was fire and the physical heat came with an unforgiving burn. But then you go through crisis and realize actually lets go for a nice.,emotionally regulated individual, who you know when they’re choking you its not to kill you.
“Treat me life fire, into the pain…I’m in the light I glow, But you know not to touch me, cause it might burn , if it don’t work. But soon you’ll see the truth after the smoke”
So my next type was the Yoruba demon. I’m not going to divulge too much about the situation but niggas lie and sell dreams. I have a degree in pree’in, I was running CRB checks before they were a thing. Half an hour sifting through various pages online, exposed and unravelled every lie he told me. I feel sorry for those girls with Peter type boyfriends, who are willing to deny your existence with no hesitation or remorse. He may have denied her but their tumblr page dedicated to the beloved couple was proof enough. That was the first time Iever fixated on someone, I used to tell all my friends he had a holiday house in my head. I had 2 days of moping then threw an epic drink up to drown the house and get over him. I threw up that night but I never thought of him romantically again.
“I heard it all before, All of your lies, All your sweet talk: Baby this, baby that… But your lies ain’t working now, look who’s hurting now. See I had to shut you down”
Regrettably, I let myself be fooled and I feel like that situation/ changed the type of guy I attract. I’m in a cycle of falling for the wrong type of guy. Like I stated earlier, it’s not even the case of where I go for bad boys and obvious serial cheaters, that’s not my type and after years of emotionally destructive treatment I just want a nice guys. No one gets my attention if I don’t think they’re a nice guy but then I date them and I smell the shit on the roses. They always turn out to be horrid individuals with insincere feelings . For awhile I thought it must be me, I must convert these nice guys into fuckboys. I believes that my people pleasing antics, low self-esteem and fear of abandonment enabled their treatment of me and transformed me into an easy target to misuse. At this point, I was too lost in the fuckboy sauce and began to doubt myself. I forgot niggas lies and are generally not shit. Therapy helped me realise that I can’t blame myself for the bad behaviours of others. Men are trash, men have been trash and men will stay trash. I know this isn’t inclusive of all men but I feel like I attract trash. Trash who pretend to be who sell dreams of being there when I’m insecure, mid crisis or want intimacy, but actually point out my flaws, are emotionally manipulate and spread their seed in every garden.
“I swear I always fall for your type, tell me why I always fall for you type… I just can’t explain this shit at all”
I’m not even saying that I don’t find nice guys but in those cases, fate conspires against me and it doesn’t work out. The past couple of guys who I’ve genuinely considered spending the rest of my life with were the nicest of people. They were sweethearts with good values and seemed like they would support me in the hard times. Unfortunately it was wrong time. One person was mid research/medical school and wouldn’t have had enough time for me. My mum would have loved him but I couldn’t endure feeling lonely whilst technically not alone. The other guy was fresh out of a relationship and in a complicated situation mentally. It didn’t feel like a rebound or a “break” situation, it just didn’t work out, we talk platonically and he said I should call him handsome if I mention him in my blog. Thankfully I respect myself enough to not put my life on hold and wait in anticipation for these guys, just in case our fates re-align. They’re going to make wonderful husbands, just not to me. Now I just have to wait for the guy who’s going to be a wonderful husband to me. Wish me good luck!
How do you solve a problem like Maria? You give her the most amazing best friend, regular DBT meetings, compliant medication and regular orgasms; I have 2 out of 4 so the working out is there but there’s no answer. So how else do you solve a problem like Maria…you love her in the way she wants to be loved.
Love is such a complex verb and I don’t think any dictionary could comprehensively define it. Love exists is many forms and is manifested in so many differing ways. A couple of years ago I explored my ‘Love Languages’ and how I best express love to others and want to be loved. There are 5 love languages: Acts of Service, Physical Touch, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts and Words of Affirmation.
I have low self-esteem so for me feeling like an imposition and asking for help is something I struggle with extremely. Subsequently the greatest thing a loved one can do for me is donate their time and be there for me rather than just saying so. I hate to be cliché but actions really do speaker than words. I rarely ask for support when I’m struggling or overwhelmed, so when people recognised I’m swamped and volunteer their time to be there for me /without obligation or intended reciprocation), the warmth and love I feel is unrelenting. I hate it when people help me with the intention of throwing it back in my face or leveraging it for future favours. I just want someone to be there for me without hesitation and without having to ask. My best friend is my best friend because she’s the person who turns up at university accommodation at 3am, after I turned by phone off, because I’m going through an extremely hard time.
On the 7/7th day of christmas, after spending the past 6 days day showering her with gifts, Beyonce’s bae gave her “Quality T.I.M.E”. Nothing is better than when you’re drowning in alone in your feelings, to have company and comfort. “Netflix n Chill” has such bad and unjustified connotations attached but it’s literally one of my favourite things to do. Nothing pleases me more than watching TV/a film, eating pizza and a glass of wine with amazing company. There is something truly magical about being able to chill in silence with someone and comfortable. Cancelled and postponed plans feel like miniature heart breaks because I vibe off people’s physical energy. Romantically I just want the person’s undivided attention and the ability to soak in their aura, get to know them on and bond. I want them to completely immersed in the moment and listen to and process everything I say.
In the words of my role model Crissle West “Words mean things”. I’m always told to speak things into existence, say what I mean and verbalise what I want. I’m super verbally affectionate; I tell all my friends I love them repeatedly. I’m the queen of drunken professions of a love and general “you mean so much to me” texts. They’re increidbly cringe and soppy, but I need everyone I know to know how much they mean to me. I say it to others because I know its something I like to hear. I treat compliments and congratulations as trophies and percieve verbal criticism and critique as rejection.
Considering the fact that I’m quite a tactile and affectionate person, it maybe be a surprise that physical touch is quite low on the list. Many people assume my best friends and I, are lesbian lovers because we spoon, dry hump each other on the dance floor and my leg is almost permanently on or wrapped around her. I have a complicated relationship with physical touch and require a specific level of trust and assurance to be comfortable enough to be touched by someone. Not everyone needs to touch me to love me. I hate being hugged when I’m upset because that level of vulnerability is unnerving – just sit with me and tell me things are going to be okay. The need for physical touch in platonic relationships is minimal and is and only really is pertinent in amorous relationships.
It’s not that I don’t like receiving gifts, it’s just not a priority. I’m always super grateful -even if I don’t like the present – it’s just not someting I crave. I love gifts where the sentiment and feelings behind is emphatic and I can tell the person spent time thinking about it. I cry when I receive gifts 100% perfect for me. Either way its the thought that counts and my favourite thing anyways is to read the card that comes with the gift.
So, I’m an early 20 something females, who borders on asexuality, occasionally repulsed by physical interactions but crave companionship and mental intimacy. However after a barren and pitiful romantic history, the commencing of a new season of Love Island and my brother’s imminent nuptials to a lovely amazing girl who is only 1 year older than me, I’m contemplating re-entering the dating game. But what do you do when you’re a 23 years old waiting to be swept off your feet because your whole perception of relationships was based on Disney couplings, but you reside in a word littered with dick appointment, tinder swipes and one-night stands. The nature of the dating game has changed, dating is rare and the concept of eyes meeting across the room has evaporated. Nowadays it’s normally a situation where he held the whine like he had a missing vertebrate, his vacant hand (i.e. the hand not cupping his balls swiped yes) or he penetrated yours DMS like a professional. This generation has almost eliminated the “going steady” stage in its entirety, the magic of dates is over and the anticipation that occurs right before you fall in love has subsided. My loneliness has perpetuated an urge to explore online dating and actually respond to the reasonable DMs. Unfortunately I can officially confirm that a large majority on men are lust filled cunts – with no personality and from what I deduce would be a shit stroke game. The emergence and prominence of casual sex means coitus occurs prior to a relationship even commencing – it’s a “fuck first ask question later” situation. Girls nowadays hoping their that cooking tekkers is on fleek, their naivety is perceived as gullibility and most importantly that their pum-pum game is on point and brings life, in order to secure their future families
“I bet you’ll love me more after you get that first fuck, I bet you’ll love me more after you get that first nut”
It’s sad to admit that the original manifestation of intimacy is no longer intimate; the romance is gone. I exist in a world dictated by “what you doing?” texts, unsanctioned dick picks in your direct messages and explicit sexts. The mating and intimacy protocols have mutated from “you’re beautiful” to “what that mouth do” from “making love” to “blowing out your back” and from talking all night to your private nudes being leaked on the timeline. Don’t let the introduction of legislation regarding revenge porn give you a false sense of security; the probability of your genitalia being broadcasted into a group chat is high likely and unfortunately your nudes are for everyone… in their squad. His friend’s smile in your face, like they have seen your lower lips frown, while her girls keep their straight face like haven’t cackled at the curve of your phallus. It’s 2017 and both guys and girls are alike are continuously judging females on their past sexual exploits. Girls are out here sucking for secrecy to ensure that their CRB checks come back clean, fearful of the nightmare of being declined by your Prince Charming, because his court have deemed you as non-wifey material. This is infuriating as niggers have been “outchere” for years, having multiple babies on girls, selling a plethora of dreams, professing love just to get pumps, kissing foreheads and purposely instigating Poirot like deductions about proposal dates. Guys will intentionally leave information on ring cuts and different carat classification on their “In Private” browser and wonder why their girl’s satin bonnet is in their bathroom cabinet, while diminishing her significance in their life and her relation to them as just a link. I repeatedly through around the phrase niggers aren’t shit because they lie excessively about their philandering ways and refuse to be honest about their fuck-boy behaviour. Niggers will fuck your best friend and shift the blame unto you for having an attractive and thotty friend.
“Baby girl, respect is just the minimum”
This level of fuckery has resulted in an environment where some girls nowadays are so used maltreatment at the hands of their boyfriend that they become entranced on the smallest of niceties e.g. someone checking on how their day was. We’ve gotten to a stage where disrespect and contempt is the convention and because of this girls are confusing attention with affection, while mistaking general interest as an invitation. This is why I think it’s imperative to have friends of the opposite gender as in situations like these, the girl can occasionally feel indebted to a guy who performed the simplest of actions or actually practices general chivalry and kindness. The amount of fuckboys present has caused both a lowering of standards and has made things harder for the genuine guys. “Nice guys” have to break through several years of emotional barriers, built upon trust and commitment issues. Fortunately, I’m lucky enough to have always felt love from my family and is not afflicted with the desire to try and subsidise familial and self-love with sexual advances, catcalls or lust. I have surprisingly high-respect despite my self-esteem problems and vehemently refuse to compromise on my core principals and be with for someone I’m not compatible with. I don’t require complete mental alignment with someone because the way my personality is set up means I agree with no one 100%, but I require someone who is wholeheartedly there for me. I’m literally the furthest thing from perfection and the amount of baggage of I possess, requires a surplus charge on most airlines.
“Niggas will lose their mind for it, wine for it, dine for it pussy, Spend time for it, see no colour line for it pussy, Double back, handicap and go blind for the pussy”
I’m aware of the fact that falling for bullshit is not a condition limited to the female gender. Several guys have fallen victim to the emerging epidemic of the “finesse girl”. These pretty faces, with sanctified bodies and ample assets who live on Gauchos and Nobu, showered with Ciroc while they practice their gurgling technique in the VIP section, are a force to reckoned with. Their frequently flyer miles on their pussy help them get to Dubai every other month and acquired the “new stamps on their passport” *Drake reference*. I’m not slut shaming, vaginas are magical and if you decided to exploit to your own advantage, then do your thing. I just feel like naive and innocent guys need to be vary of becoming bewitched and enchanted by the magic of pussy powers and avoided being saved as “taxi”, “meal ticket” and “bank”. I think men’s desire to achieve euphoria through sex and females crave security through money, operated as the catalyst for the loose exchange of money for sex, domination within society. Guys frequently complain about the utilisation of pum-pum as currency, however females have been traded and used as money for several years with no complaints from men. The inherit patriarchal within society bred a convention/ tradition where female offspring were married off in exchange for money, power and trade deals and I’m sadden when I see Instagram caption regarding the doubling of their “bride price” because it reinforces perceptions regarding ownership. Men’s disdain and degradation for formal female sex workers and casual sexual transactions can attributed to the fact that that they no longer profit off or exploit femininity and female sexuality. The rise of feminism has led to disintermediation and the removal of middle men and female sexual empowerment and the stigma towards “promiscuity” and slut shaming has revolutionised the traditional relationship.
“Girls you know you better watch out, some guys are only about that thing… Guys you know you better watch out, some girls are only about that thing”
Womanism, equality and sexual liberalism is all good and well and I’m so for it but I’m still super traditional and I’m not emotionally equipped for it. It’s honestly not in my nature to play the field and I feel great discomfort in talking to multiple guys simultaneously or reducing men’s function in my life to just amenities. There’s no shade intended but I’m an avid fan of monogamy and literally all I need is this life of sin, is a nice and guy who’s going to love and support me, who I can buss it open for and when my flexibility develops do a split on his dick. I want holy matrimony and to be feel completed, however I think I was born too late for that existence or for that type of courtship to be viable.
“When night comes on and I’m on my own, you should I Know I chose to be alone”
To a certain extent I feel like my foray back into dating any my subsequent failure to find a potential spouse, has only reinforced the fact that I personally have chosen to be single. On the app I’ve received sub-standard and inadequate advances and I’ve just politely declined, because I’d rather stay single. I’ve always proclaimed the quintessential spinster rhetoric of “alone but not lonely” and being emphatic in my claim that I’m voluntary single. However during my 3 years of romance solitude, I’ve frequently quarrelled with myself about whether I’m just single (sans a partner) or actually both lonely and alone. The life of what seems of perpetual singleness has made me do the inevitable and doubt my sauce and I’m repeatedly wonder if I’m still desirable or in position where I could still be loved by someone. I hate seeking validation through others particularly at the expense of others, but the response I received on the app, has restored my glows; it’s given me that pinch of salt and spice to my already seasoned sauce. Despite some complications with my ability to distinguish what I want, with what I knew wasn’t good for me and with who I knew I wasn’t compatible with, I fully know what I’m looking for… I’m looking to buss it open for the real one.
Platonic as described its namesake is the truest form of love. I regard platonic love as the meeting of the minds. When I gain a new close friend I physically love that individual; I love our convos, memories and and inside jokes. I’ve previously stated that I have yet to fall in love, as the concept of love requires the extradition of logic and for the individuals to act without reason. Loving someone is the ultimate show of verity, honesty and openness, the mere nature of love requires level of sincerity and affection that can only be created by a genuine covenant between two souls. Consequently to love and not have those feelings reciprocated in incredibly despairing and heart-breaking.
“I don’t really want to compromise our friendship, but I got a thing for you… and I don’t really want to cross the line, but I’m kinda really hoping that we do”
On a personal note, I tend to refrain from commencing relationships with an individual’s who previous relationship was strictly platonic. The best relationships are thought to have its foundations in friendship, however the oursuit of this relationship may leave you at risk to becoming a victim of the perpetual friend zone. Relegation to the friend zone is incredibly difficult as you’ve developed romantic feelings for someone, who doesn’t perceive you in the equivalent way. Although you’ve attempted to make subtle hints to indicate your true feelings and fulfil your romantic fantasies, the friend in question, rather than reciprocating the affection, subtly rebuffs your romantic exploits. This situation becomes increasingly agonising as they dexterously emphasize the strictly friendly nature of your relationship or their romantic interest in someone else. The phrased “You’re such a good friend” and “Do you mind me telling my parents, I’m with you while I go and see…”, cut deep. Observe the object of your affections, fall for someone is painful The friendzone dictates a situation where you’ve attempted to sacrifice the 50% for 100% but the resultant rejection forced demotion and consignment back to the 50%. Fortunately I’ve had the ill-fortune of being in the friendzone, as I’ve never allowed myself to be that open. When situated in the friendzone you can either explicitly state your intentions, let the situation bleed and continue to endure the friendzone or cauterize the wound, renounce the friendship and abscond with your pride intact but your broken-hearted.
“Sometimes when you look me in the eyes, you hold it for too long and I start to blush. Sometimes when you say hello, you take me in your arms and I get this rush”
I’m speaking from experience. The majority of my friendships were with the opposite sex, my oldest friend in the world is male and my recreational time was dominated by tomboy like activities. I’m ashamed to admit that I have a tendency to develop a physical attraction to some of my friends, however there was an incident where I think I almost fell in love. I’m normally able to distinguish and segregate my platonic feelings from my romantic feelings, but my defence mechanism of emotional detachment and disengagement, failed me. It was between the ages of 16-18, I was reaching emotional maturity while going through a difficult time in my life and unfortunately I formed an unhealthy dependency on him. A lot of my happiness was encircled in our friendship and I fell in love with him spiritually, I looked into his soul and honestly our consciousness just intertwined. I was completely transfixed and encapsulated by his warmth, his kindness towards me and our conversation. The happiest moments of my life are the times spent on his sofa, inebriated, completely intoxicated in his aura, engrossed in the conversation behind the background of the Chelsea match flickering on the TV. The physical interaction was minimal, no bed sharing or unnecessary spooning, nothing more than locked arms as we walked to the bus stop and lingering goodbye embraces, where we rocked from side to side as we waited for TFL. But he was my best friend and my feelings failed to be recognised or reciprocated. In all honesty, I never made him aware of my feelings. He loved me in the way I needed, instead of the way I wanted. Ultimately I was forced to break my own her and de-friend him, I loved being a part of his life but it wasn’t in the capacity I would love and witnessing and just knowing that. To a large extent it fucked with my already fragile self-esteem. As his best friend I had to irrelevant spectator as he ran through all these bitches and I just didn’t appear on his erotic radar. The girls who were prettier than me destroyed my self-confidence and the bitches who were just skinnier than me obliterated any remnants of my sense of worth. Deep down I’m aware that if our friendship had blossomed into romance, I would have loved him unconditionally as to this day, he unknowingly still possesses a piece of my heart
And I wish I never fell so deep in love with you & now there’s just no way we can be friends”
Although I took the less problematic method of escaping the emotional turmoil, with hindsight I have recognised I took the incorrect exit out of the situation. I failed to inform of him of my romantic feelings for him or maintain our friendship, consequently I demoted our relationship from 50% to 100%, without any attempt to achieve the divine love I craved. To this day, I regularly deliberate on whether I should have admitted my feelings, considering the fact that I had plans to terminate the friendship anyways. Making the transition from platonic love to the divine love, is complex and complicated. It’s a decision to be openly defenceless and situated in a completely vulnerable state and the ultimate wager of the heart. The situation exemplifies my propensity to split and the all or nothing gamble; risk 50% for 100%. It is more than just a change of state, admitting your true romantic and erotic feelings to your best friend is a chemical reaction of the highest degree. Once the feelings have been exposed, things will never be the same. The explosion of the implications from opening Pandora’s Box is not containable, it permeates into every aspect of your friendship; nonetheless I regret not informing him. How do you approach you best friend and tell him you love him? What concoction of words and phrases do you deploy to notify him of your amendment in feelings?
“How do you make the change from friends to lovers, when you risking looking like a fool? Maybe it will be safer playing sister and brother, but I’m going crazy trying to stay cool”
Since this situation I’ve developed a strategy, where I anticipate my feelings intensifying and to avoid any further accumulation of feelings, I removable their eligibility as prospective lover. There has been instances when I’ve been single and observed someone I’m attracted to expressing loving feelings to someone other than me. Its disheartening and in order to diminish my lust and attraction, I frequently pair the attractive friend off with another friend, as that instantly removes any romantic feelings I previously possessed. Alternatively you could remove your own moral eligibility, find a distraction in another partner and shift your affections unto a new prospect. This is a particularly dangerous situation, as you may just complicate the situation further and involve an innocent party into the mix. You may be imprisoned in an old school Usher Raymond situation, where you spend your days fatasizing about someone the person you know your heart is truly destined for and wanting to depart the shallow relationship you currently reside. Commencing a new relationship, when you there’s already pre-existing feelings for someone you’re in close contact with, will beget an inability to commit emotionally to the new relationship.
“We could be perfect, we could be useful, it could be worth finding out”
I’ve also had situation where there was a mutual understanding, between me and an individual that there was something more than friendship present in our relationship. There was an awful lot of denial on my part and I refuse to outwardly admit any non-platonic feelings and rationalised our connection as a developed flirtationship. He failed to tick several of my relationship compatability criteria, but he understood me in a way I haven’t experienced for a long time. I had a plethora of reasons not to upgrade our relationship, most notably, the fact that he was a fuckboy individual, whose appearance failed to stutter my ovaries despite not being unttractive whatsoever. There was undercurrent of sexual tension and I let the flirtationship progress further than I should’ve permitted whilst he ran through hoes with careless abandon, remorselessly manipulated innocent virgins and personified the “bitch nigger” mentality, I taught myself to circumvent. Any development into a romantic relationship would have resulted in an unhealthy and jealousy filled, tainted love situationship, which quite frankly I did not have the time or effort to tolerate. Needless to say I terminated that friendship, he continues to fuck around and I’m okay with that because I’m no longer involved in any capacity. The relationship was founded on the fact that it was cuffing season – I wanted to be cuffed, winter roast and loneliness had settled in – and the majority of our interactions were in a group dominated by couples. Suffering the heartbreak of losing my best friend, has altered the way I conduct friendships. I tend to invest my absolute into my friendship and adopt a motherly persona: cooking, cleaning etc. These actions can frequently be misconstrued as assuming the wifey role but these characteristics are firmly embedded in my persona. But as I’ve stated prior, I’ve developed a coping mechanism and although sometimes I falter and form intense flirtationship or friendship with colleagues or attractions to my friend’s siblings and peripheral acquaintances, I’m yet to capture deep feelings for a close friend.
Sometimes the nature of a best friendship with someone you find sexually attractive is just a recipe for disaster. I think it’s definitely healthy to be friends with people of the opposite gender but clear boundaries must be set. The worst thing you could so it enter into a friends with benefit situation with your best friends because those overlapping characters equals the main components of a relationship. However an arrangement consisting of all those components without the title or the commitment, is a situation doomed for heartache and heartache similar to grief, is one of the most extreme emotions any individual can feel. Sometimes falling in love your friend is inevitable and sometimes it leads to the perfect relationship, however sometimes it just leads to the loss of a close friend. If you’re ever in that situation, just follow your heart because the worst thing you could do is have regrets of sleepless night what could’ve/should’ve been.