Baby boo

My great frienemy Beyonce sang that “if u like it then u should hav put a ring on it.” She also called some guy names, chucked him out of her house, told him how replaceable he was, and then promptly proceeded to bring out her side dish to make her point. You see, despite her most melodic voice it is exactly that feminist crap that rubs me up the wrong way.

Right. Back to that ring. Brothers, did she have to tell us that? Do these girls have to vigorously remind us every time they rush up to wrestle for the wedding bouquet? Ag, you know what? You don’t have to put a ring on nothing. The song got me thinking though. Why are we not though?

And that is not even what I worries me. I am worried that our sisters aren’t getting married, and not just because they are not getting married but rather because they are being left single and with babies. We are rendering our women damaged goods.

I work with a few women in their late twenties. Three are single mothers. A looker, a minger and an inbetweener. They vary in shape and hair styles. Their sense of humour ranges like earth, wind and fire. Two of them don’t live with their kids on a full time basis. They can’t quite carry the burden by themselves. Cash flow. Love life. City and work life. Too much. The kids have been farmed out to their grannies. So 1980’s but in this day and age.

The whole thing gets me upset. See, I love women. From a physical and a mental angle. I love them, both as a perv and as a condescending bastard. My love for women is deep yet flawed, but these are my sisters. They are also my countrymen. They deserve to be happy and to be respected. Where is the love for our sisters? Why so many hit and runs? How can we go around impregnating all these beautiful girls just to leave them vulnerable and alone? Even if you are not her Mr Right, you have now slashed her chances of finding him. You have left her with a burden. She is now your branded cow and now you don’t want her. 

With all being said to takes two to tango, and at least the same amount to get tangled up in bed. I don’t know what it is about us and making babies though. You would think with this sexually transmitted pandemic doing the rounds the second last thing people would be doing is fornicating. The very last thing would be doing that without protecting themselves. My heart bleeds for these unwanted children. I wonder how many of their mothers wish that they would have terminated.

Under the tree of life

My gosh, am I busy. Between tweeting, re-tweeting, favouring and plagiarising inspirational posts on the net I am amazed that I get in a bit more into a day. On the side I squeeze in being a gyming husband, a story time and playtime father to two toddlers, an all round cool guy and a commercial executive. Where does one fit in their dreams though? You know, those often postponed ones for world domination.

Is the middle road that cosy? The road most travelled. Far enough from the hell that is poverty yet not quite the paradise of Insta. I dare not entertain those of being poor. I flirt, no I romance the vision of sabbaticals and owning vast land and holiday homes. If my dreams could talk they would tell you what a tease I am. If only I wasn’t a limp biscuit they would tell you. You see, in the world of doers and go getters I am a spud. The sack ain’t quite dropped. I am to ambition what the lion was to Dorothy.

After finding love, children and professional qualifications you would think it would be a good time to take a breather and rest on your laurels. I swear I am ready for that midlife career nap but I swear my masters won’t let me be. Between providing for my family, extended family and my poor poor lendors I can’t stop. Won’t stop. I be on my grind on that hamster wheel, gangsta. Every summer I reflect on the year that has past and without fail I see myself inching closer to that cheese. Never mind who moved it.

Oh yeah, so where were we? Dreams. Wishes. Probably the strangest of ideas to a toddler but the essence of man really. The stuff that moulds a thousand men into a thousand individuals – even though all are born equal and created in his image. Dreams. The modern day forbidden fruit. After this incredibly boring trek through the concrete jungle my Eve and I have discovered the tree of life. What I feel in its shade is serenity. I thirst for the fruit of this tree. This evening I feast on the its fruit.