The festive season is here and you are a side chick. It is obvious your part in his life pauses now, at least for a while, till this season is over.
It is very crude—I know to cruise around the city with him, visit all kiosks in the night hunting for what to eat and leave the poor lady, the main woman owling in her bed, wondering what time her hubby will be back, and trust me this is none of your business.
At this point, you should be looking for better plot. If you are still begging him to be with you this season, chances are you are the kind that gives too much. Instead of whining about losing him to his family or families this season, you should be making up your mind on giving less in 2017 and sticking to the terms.
I just borrowed a few tips from my friend Sheila, on how to be a side chick from 2017, onwards, without giving your all or expecting more than you were promised.
The biting truth is; do not do everything for him because he is not your man. When he comes over at yours, my sister, do not cook. This is the time to make use of his wallet; ask him to bring over that package from Javas or KFC.
Even when you go to his house, do not clean it even when you find yourself in a replica of a pig sty, become a pig at least and sleep soundly. And most importantly, on no account should you get pregnant. This is a NO!
The last time I saw this kind of gesture was really heart breaking. Cynthia, a combo of beauty and brains came from a well to do family. She was always given big sums of money to party and do anything she wanted to do with her life until Pascal came in.
She, out of too much love—I still wonder where people get this kind of love, used to split her per diem with him. Pascal, at that time had two handsomely paying jobs and was very married to one sewing machine, by this I mean she would quarrel till the victim left her presence—but the chap was happily married.
Cynthia would leave her parents’ home and sleep over at Pascal’s secret apartment; do all laundry, clean the house and also take his children for immunization. She was literally the children’s nanny.
Whenever it was school time, she made sure she queued at the bank to pay their tuition, on orders from Pascal and sometimes accompanied him to do all the shopping for his main home. At that point, I’m sure the madam was watching her favourite soap or perhaps engaging the neighbours in some cheap gossip, oblivious of where her husband was or even what was lacking in the kitchen.
Sheila, like a good friend she has always warned Cynthia. “Pascal is taking you for a ride. You cannot do all those things for the fella and have nothing in return but sex”. “Are you that desperate?” she has asked her.
But all the warnings fell on deaf ears until she conceived. She kept it a secret and thought she would surprise him. He opened up a photo studio for her and equipped it. She was too excited and before everybody present on her birthday, confessed she was two months pregnant for him.
The wide smile on Pascal’s face faded. He ordered for a glass of whiskey, pulled her aside, almost ripping her blue, shiny dress off her slim body. “What did you just say? You—you are what?” he asked.
Puzzled, she ran to the washrooms and buried her head in the sink and cried her eyeballs out. She screamed her lungs out, cursing; “I am so tired of aborting. Six times is enough times. I must have this baby”.
When she left the washroom, Pascal stood in the corridor, pocketing, and looking at her with the most evil of looks. “Babe, we must get rid of that child. We agreed: no children. I have four already and cannot see myself fathering another”.
All this time she looked at him hopping he would see the tears in her eyes and change his mind. He instead walked away. She dialed his number all night and realised she had somewhat been blocked.
To add chili to the wound, she gathered strength to go to her studio and monitor the vents that day. To her dismay, the workers were signing out wore very miserable faces. A plump lady appeared from the back room and assured her she was firing her workers and was not hiring anyone at the moment.
Madam had been ordered by Pascal to take over the premises and run the business. She knew her of course. She stared at her, motionless and asked her where she would find Pascal. She barked, “Omwagaza ki?”(Why do you need him?)
Cynthia is now job hunting. Again, if you must be a side chick, at least have something to your name, stick to the game plan and have a life of your own and big plans for the festive season, remember it is you turn to step aside-a bit!