Am I taking the Miss Independent life too far?

Dear BMW,

I just ended an engagement to someone I loved, but didn’t want to be with forever. I’m 38. The engagement ended a few months ago. I left him because I had no interest in the predictable life of marriage ahead of me.

I hate being told what to wear and do, and being reminded that I am a woman. Confusing as it may be, but yeah, I am Miss Independent, and I love doing things my way.

He wanted us to have four kids right away, move to Blantyre and live a basic life. He was a great guy, but I would have died in that boring environment.

I have no regrets I am out of the deal because I’m having so much fun now; partying, drinking, dancing and getting wasted all day long in Lilongwe. Speaking of sex, I am not starving in that department as I am getting lots of it from a chain of men I keep as fall back.

Besides, I have a well-paying job at a tech hub and my skills won’t be out of date anytime soon. Of course, I have realised that I am not getting any younger, and at my age, the fertility clock is ticking.

Should I get worried men will stop trying to marry me?

Miss Independent,

via WhatsApp, Lilongwe.

Miss Independent,

I will call you that, because that is your choice. But, for me, you are Miss Nothing, Miss Clueless and, for that matter, Miss Good For Nothing.

Hear this and hear me well. If you don’t have kids before you are, at least, 35, you are doomed. From what you say, you are a granny trapped in a teenager’s body. How, sorry, the heck can you celebrate in partying, drinking, dancing and getting wasted? Don’t waste my time, I have better worries than your prostituting and all that.

It is all clear that you are bent on being a slut. It is off your mouth. I wouldn’t know, but it seems you are a sex slave of your own making. You think that is your freedom, but hey, you are growing old.

I will share with you a secret on liberty. You may think by gallivanting and painting your Lilongwe red, you are a star, but no. Sit down, take a deep breath and look at the deep misery you are in.

Yours truly, Big Man Wamkulu, is a firm believer in that marriage as a social contract, is only necessary for the construction of our society. Sex, on the other hand, represents the unification and codification of that social contract and our natural and supernatural being. Your choice of being a sexpot leaves me with nothing but the thought that you are naive.

You seem to think sex has to be given like Galuyu N’gwandani or Nsato Ili Kubwera ku Mowa and, indeed, any other child-play songs including Landani Fuliji. But, hey, there is more to it than meets your eye.

I agree, you are not supposed to be a child-manufacturing company. But then, when you come to terms with that all those men are just up to use and abuse you, it will be too late, for you will be a granny with no kid of your own. I am not drinking Fanta over your mishap, but that is the reality.

These men you are bedding, for that is what you seem to be enjoying, are telling each other: “Guys, aliponso wina uku. Ngophweka. Mukazionere nokha if she has game.”

I am worried, very worried. You are wasted. You are like caviar to the general: Sweet but never appreciated.

By the way, I stand against male chauvinist pigs.

You are taking your Miss Independent to your own Miss Servitude. You are serving men sex as a dish. You love being munched as you feel you are succulent. And, so long as you are happy with it, it is none of my business. Never.

NOTE: You can now send your problems to BMW via WhatsApp number: +265 998-110-975. No calls please!

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