The dating scene is an absolute cesspool. A swirling, stinking swamp that few have the patience or the gumboots to wade through. Even with the multitude of options out there, it seems like the worst time to venture into that market of madness. And it has been that way long before WHO told us to stop hugging each other.

As a rule, I never make any judgements on where people choose to spill their fluids. Life is short, the weather is oppressive, and the great propaganda machine that is the baby-making industry is in full flow. Sometimes you need someone to keep the other side of the bed warm. I get it.

But there is a corner of those streets I won’t let my brothers wander into without fair warning. It’s like seeing someone strolling down Accra Road in Nairobi with a phone raised to their ear. You simply have to say something. Unless it’s an iPhone, in which case you grin and say good riddance!

That corner, that dazzling, baffling Eden otherwise known as a single mother, is as dangerous as a Nairobi highway on a Friday night.

I understand the inherent difficulty of dating when you’re a woman with a child. I can appreciate the dilemma of trying to let a man into your life while already having a fixed priority who sometimes sleeps (and pees) in your bed. And the struggle of putting yourself at the mercy of another charming bastard after the last one dropped off his DNA and disappeared. It’s a shame, really.

By Brian Guserwa.


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