My life has been a disaster
My life has been a disaster
I just finished packing my suitcase again. Sitting on my bed looking around this small apartment, thinking about how many times I’ve done this. How many times I’ve packed up my life and flew off to another country for love. This time, it’s Nigeria. Again.
I been to over 40 countries. Lived in over 10 of them with the men I’ve dated. I know what its like to be wined and dined in Paris, to sip tea in London with a mans mother watching me with suspicious eyes, to walk through the busy markets in India, where everybody whispering and looking like I ain’t supposed to be holding their sons hand.
Listen, the temporary perks are sweet. The flights, the new cultures, the gifts, the experiences. But when you deep in it, when you REALLY living with them, dealing with their families, seeing who they really are behind closed doors… that’s when the real drama start.
European men Freaky as hell. I had to stop dating them cause most of them like to pass you around to their friends like some kinda toy. No sir, not me.
African men Sweethearts at first, jealous as hell after. They want to know where you is every second, but they have a whole wife or girlfriend back home. They can cheat but you can’t even breathe in another man direction.
American men Hood ones only want a fling. That’s okay sometimes, but not when I looking for something real.
Chinese & Indian men Protective and loving, but their families will NEVER accept you. If you black, forget it. They’d rather cut off their son than welcome you into the family. It’s cultural, it ain’t even personal.
Jamaican & Haitian men Masters of sex, too controlling. You will NEVER be free in that relationship.
Spanish Papi A full body pleaser, but never wrong. Even when you catch him red handed, he still convincing you that you imagining things.
And then. Bahamian men. Whew. Eyes 2 big, watching everything you do like detectives. Calculating every move. You can’t please them, you can’t figure them out, and half the time, they don’t even know who they wanna be cause they always switching characters depending on how you treat them.
I never had a relationship that last more than three years. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s them. Maybe it’s life punishing me for chasing love in places I shoulda never been. Cause some of them never made it out alive.
Two men I loved died in my arms. One was older than me, strong, confident, full of life until life drained right out of him, right in front of me. He was gripping my hand so tight, his nails dug into my skin, his eyes wide with fear. He was calling my name, calling out for God, and then he just. stopped. His hand went limp, his eyes still open, staring at me, but he wasn’t there anymore.
The other one couldn’t even talk. His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. His body was shaking, struggling, until it wasn’t. I was screaming his name, shaking him, begging him to wake up, but his soul was already gone. I sat there holding him, rocking him like a baby, like if I held on tight enough, I could pull him back from death.
And then there was the one who never made it to me. I told him don’t rush. I told him I’d wait. But he wanted to surprise me. He wanted to show up at my door with flowers in his hands and love in his heart. He boarded that flight with a smile on his face, probably dreaming about our reunion. But that plane never made it. And I never got to say goodbye.
Some nights, I wake up reaching for them. I hear their voices in my dreams. I still have messages from them saved on my phone, but I can’t bring myself to delete them. Sometimes I play their voicemails just to hear them one more time. Just to pretend, for a few seconds, that they’re still here.
And maybe that’s why people say I need to grow the fuck up. Stop chasing love across the ocean. Pick a place, sit still, and learn how to be happy in one spot.
But what they don’t understand is. I don’t know how.
I don’t know how to stop running. I don’t know how to stop chasing. Cause if I stop. if I sit still long enough. I might have to face the fact that maybe I was never meant to find love.
Maybe I was only meant to lose it. Over. And over. And over again.
Page Reply:
This is a sad life for anyone. Sorry for your loss 😞🙏🏽
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