UNAPOLOGETIC

Messy thoughts of a creative mind

What it Means to Be a Woman

Woman, you be too much…

Have you ever thought about the fact that we all begin our journey on this world as females in our mother’s womb until for some of us the ovaries turn into testes around the 10th gestational week? For those lucky individuals, life automatically becomes simpler.

The rest of us, who initially started as an XX chromosome, take our first breath with the complex destiny of being a woman.

As young girls we know little about womanhood. We dress like princesses and enjoy experimenting with mommy’s make up, while admiring the grace with which she does everything around the house. Our first idea of a woman is a mother, homemaker and a wife. What else could be included? That’s already pretty much enough.

Entering puberty and diving into the craziness of the teen age gives us a new and different perspective on being a woman. We learn we must bear the cross of ever-changing moods, belly cramps and annoying bleeding every month, for the most part of our lives. But we also discover, as our bodies are shaping, we have power over men that they cannot fight. Unfortunately, at that time we don’t know how to use that power safely and appropriately. Even more unfortunately, some of us never learn how to do that.

Up until our mid twenties (generally speaking) we live with the basic ideas of what it means to be a woman. Ideas taught by the society. A society controlled by men. And that is dangerous, because men have no clue, what a woman is, but sadly, even till today they have the power to shape the commonly accepted opinion of… everything. Those basic ideas and guidelines of ‘how to be a woman’ are misleading us as young females and giving us insufficient and vaguely realistic notion of what life has in store for us. And at the same time, they serve as an excuse for some men to give us much less appreciation and respect than we deserve. So what does it really mean to be a woman?

Dear girl, I hope you are reading. Dear man, I hope you are taking notes.

Being a woman means you are expected to be a mother, a good one at that. But you are also expected to prevent yourself from becoming a mother. (Yeah, I know, the paradox, right?) You should know how to prepare a healthy meal, do the washing, clean the house, help the children and attend to your husband, all in 24 hours. Seven days a week. Pretty much all year round. In addition, you are expected to have a job. And you will be expected to leave your job to have a child, even if your career is important to you.  And after you’ve had your child you will be expected to return to work, even if you now want to spend more time with your baby. If you don’t meet the expectations you will be judged.

Being a woman means your body is designed to endure pain, much stronger than the pain a man can imagine (but you will rarely get credit for that). Your brain is built in such a way to organise and memorise various tasks, needs and wants of all the people in your family and the ones that are important to you (still little credit). You can function and perform well after you have suffered sleep deprivation for months and lived under serious amounts of stress (if you are looking for credit, you are an attention seeker). This is your nature. This is how God created you. If He made you slightly different, forgot to give you one of these skills or misplaced a part of you, you will be judged.

Being a woman means you have to be prepared to study hard, go to university, find a job, work the same hours (sometimes longer) as a man, be more qualified and get paid less than him. You must be prepared to be given or denied a job based on your looks, rather than your abilities. At home you should be prepared to often keep quiet when your feelings have been hurt, for the sake of having peace. If you are not prepared, you will be judged.

You must earn your money and be financially independent from your man, but you should be careful to not make him feel intimidated by your success. If you don’t, in both cases, you will be judged.

If you want to leave yourself behind to save your marriage, you will be judged. If you want to leave your marriage to save yourself, you will still, be judged.

Woman, you don’t have it easy! But guess what, for centuries you’ve juggled those incompatible roles, met those ridiculous expectations and risen above all judgemental contradictions. Because you are special, because you are magic. You give life and life cannot continue without you. Your heart is big enough to contain the love of a thousand. Your shoulders have the strength to carry the worries of all your loved ones. Your arms are a fortress of safety. Your hands, so soft and gentle, bring comfort. Your body is supernatural and your mind is incredible.

Woman, know that you can’t have it all, but you deserve it all! Woman, you be too much…

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Brexit Thoughts

Disclaimer: This is a post I wrote on my Facebook wall after the Tory conference in October 2016. I thought its place is actually on my blog as it may reach more people and truly reflects on my feelings and thoughts about this whole big political mess.

Ok, I’m going to talk…

After I heard the speech of the Home Secretary, Amber Rudd, it seems to me that the current UK leaders and most of their supporters have very thick skin, extremely short memory and do not strike me with the brightest of intelligence. Why? Here’s why:

1. Labour market invaders

When the British were colonising the world, there was no problem for them to go anywhere and take anything they feel they should have under the excuse they are “enriching and bettering those poor, severely undeveloped countries and societies where people lacked essential knowledge and skills in specific areas”. Of course, the colonised didn’t have the opportunity for their own ‘Brexit’ and just had to accept the ‘friendly‘ invaders and kindly thank them for their contribution to the local culture.

Today, not even a hundred years later, those same, well-meaning British people are screaming their heads off because immigrants from all over the world are coming PEACEFULLY, to WORK and PAY TAXES TO THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. Those people are bad because they are stealing British jobs, bringing their own cultural ‘nonsense‘ and meddling with the well nurtured and highly appreciated British values. Oh, how dare they! Because they, those nasty hard-working and skilled immigrants, are the ONLY reason why Becky from Essex, with a grade C on her GCSEs, living off all sorts of benefits, has not started working in a hospital, law firm, advertising agency or a financial institution yet. That’s right, people! Becky could have been a doctor, lawyer, marketing director, banker… if not for the EU and international job thieves that have now flooded the good old Great Britain. If you think there may be a different reason for her unemployment, like for example, lack of relevant training and education or simply laziness, well… you know nothing, my friend! In fact, you are probably a “fOckin’ immigrant”!

2. Too many young people coming to the UK to study and work

Oh, dear Lord! I can’t think of anything worse than that!!! 😱

In a country with a much higher percentage of elderly and dying population you would have thought they would embrace young talent, intelligence and workforce. No, not in Britain, love! Well, no, that’s not entirely correct. They would embrace young talented people if they come with a British passport . No, that’s not true either. They would embrace young talented and smart people if they are British, white and coming from entirely British families that have been born and bread in this country for at least 3 generations. Because if you were born here to foreign parents of any decent, you are not British, you are a British wannabe and the ‘real‘ Britons don’t want ya, mate!

3. Make life of International students even harder than it already is

Why not, right? International students have it so easy… they just come to this Great country to receive Great education and have a Great job. Oh, wait, scrap that last one! That’s close to impossible, because there’s no employer that will give a £35k starting salary to a university graduate with little to no work experience, which translates into a big fat ‘Bye, Felicia’ to the international student who spent a minimum of 2 years in this country, contributing hugely to the economy by paying tuition fees of £26k and above, wrecking his or her entire family life savings account, being away from loved ones and struggling to survive due to work restrictions. The fact that despite all hurdles, this international student graduated from a top university in a highly desired by employers programme with a First Class degree is completely irrelevant. Why? Cause he or she ain’t Becky from Essex.

4. Businesses should prioritise British workers

Right… let’s see how this does not make any sense.

For starters, any business owner will tell you that their main objective is to maximise profit and minimise cost. Now if you want to do that legally, the very first thing you consider is hiring people who can do the job, are responsible and loyal and help your company move forward. No? Absolutely no business savvy employer gives a flying monkey where their employees were born, what colour their skin is or what they believe in if they are the right fit for the job. Last time I checked, the possession of a British passport or DNA, does not guarantee you can operate specific softwares, create high quality brand identity materials or have unique field related skills. Yet, for a business to grow, you need exactly the type of staff that possess all the relevant skills and knowledge.

Second, according to an article in The Guardian from March 2016, more than half of the British based businesses are actually foreign. Oops! 😶 So you tell a German business owner that he or she should consider British applicants before German, Spanish, Romanian, Ghanaian, Bangladeshi, Australian or Brazilian, even though the CVs of the non-Brits show they are a better fit for the job? Well, love… that German businessman or woman will not wait long before they move their headquarters or even all branches to another European country or elsewhere in the world. And because you are a proud Brexiter, you would say “Let them go, this is Great Britain, we don’t need them!” And you may be right for the first 100 or so businesses that leave the country, but it won’t stop there. What would happen to the precious British economy when 1000 or 5000 of those foreign owned businesses move outside of the UK because they feel unnecessary pressure from the Government here? And what if not only the foreign-owned firms follow this trend? Have you thought about that?

Some food for thought

Life is sweet for London’s landlords right now, charging stupid amounts of money for rubbish properties that they fail to maintain. But who’s gonna take those expensive 💩-holes when the ‘bloody migrants’ have gone ‘back to where they came from’ or moved to another country with less xenophobic laws and treatment?

What would happen to the NHS if all the foreign health workers choose to be treated with more respect elsewhere?

Who is going to take care of all the old people in care homes if aunty Folake is deported back to Nigeria or Monika, the sanitary nurse from Poland, is forced to go back home?

How is architecture or the building industry going to prosper if Petar and Bogdan from Bulgaria are denied work on the building site because they don’t hold British passports?

Who will be cleaning your offices and homes when Dolores, the Colombian student, is told she can’t stay after her graduation?

Let me guess… those ones are not that much of a problem for Britain. They can stay and work for minimal wage, claim no benefits whatsoever and perform magic to ensure there will be roof over their head, food on the table and clothes for their children? 🤔 Nice try… these people also know their worth despite the level or nature of their jobs. If they are treated as low quality society members they will not hesitate to look for due respect in a more civilised and welcoming country.

But hey… if they leave and you have nobody to do the ‘dirty work’, maybe Becky from Essex can do it. 💁🏼 

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A Grown-Up Letter to Santa

Dear Santa…

It’s been a long time since I wished for something in a letter to you. Maybe because I know what I truly want cannot be wrapped up in a nice shiny paper and left under the Christmas tree. But what’s the harm in trying anyway…

I’m not a child anymore and never grew up to be the person who craves material things. My eyes don’t flash at the sight of expensive jewellery, unless it is given to me by a special person with special feelings. My heart doesn’t jump when I receive a designer dress, or shoes or a bag, unless there’s a note that says “Wear it tonight, I can’t wait to see you in it”. I guess, a brand new car with all the extras won’t move me much, if I know the person who bought it, did it to simply tick a box. A massive house with a pool and garden and luxurious furniture won’t do it for me either if I can’t decorate it with family pictures and fill it with love.

So, Santa… I don’t want anything that can be bought or made and delivered. I suppose that makes your task a bit harder. It’s so simple and at the same time so complex. It sounds easy, but yet it appears to be the hardest gift to receive. Just because money can’t buy it, hands can’t make it, words can’t force it. Here’s my list:

I want to celebrate the holidays with my husband and my children in a quiet home environment with festive food and Christmas movies.

I want to take family photos that show the faces of all of us beaming with joy, simply of the fact that we are together.

I want a compliment for my hair, a look of admiration, a naughty joke.

I want to be taken out for a dinner – the place is not important, but the person and his interaction with me is everything.

I want to be relieved of some of the stress, I  have been going through by a warm hug and reassuring word that I will not be left alone.

I want to look into my man and see a stronghold, a safe place to hide and a solid pillar to lean on when I need to.

I want some help with the dishes.

I want a meaningful conversation and mutually satisfying plan for action.

I want to grow with the person I chose to spend my life with, to push him to greater heights and to be inspired by him, not through bare criticism but through love and care.

I want to be allowed to be just a woman from time to time and not forced to constantly play both roles. (Being an independent woman is no fun when it’s not a choice but a vital requirement).

I want understanding and peace.

I want to give, but I also want to receive.

I want to be appreciated and not ignored.

I want to be a point of thanksgiving and not a point of regret.

I want to be seen as a blessing and not as a curse.

Kind and generous Old Man, my Christmas wish list has been the same for years now, but somehow today I feel I need it complete more than ever. The pain from lacking all this is so sharp, and strong, and loud that it drives me crazy… probably the very reason whyI’m writing you a letter. There’s no remedy, except a miracle to bring these lines into my new reality.

Even though I’m not a kid no more, I tried my best to stay good and nice through all the challenges I faced and am still facing, so please, if my words are getting to you, can you grant my miracle this Holy Night? One last time… for a girl that just wants to be loved.

Happiness

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Just thoughts on paper…

All I want to do is write… write my pain away
‘cause talking didn’t get me even half the way.
I want this pressure in the chest to simply go
to forget about it, about you, about this wicked life show.

It’s all my choice isn’t it? Of course… what else you have to say?
But fair enough… it’s life. I try to tell myself that lie.
I try to tell myself it’s not my fault, it’s not yours either… it’s life.
So why my mind is not at rest?
I could have waited, you could have stayed,
we could have tried, we could have saved…

If I said I didn’t love you, if my head was wrapped around it,
why I find it hard to breathe, why my heart is captured in a thorny wreath?
Because it wasn’t fair… No, it wasn’t! Say whatever!

Do you ever feel this way? Is there tiny bit of sorrow in your veins,
is there tiny grain of regret in your brain?
I guess I know the answer – no!
But I keep on asking for the sport… nothing ever is to change.

Look, I’m fine… I will be.
I have no choice, I was born to fight for me.
I know I’m strong, I’m smart, I’m good, I’m all I wanna be.
But the things is… I don’t want to always play this beat.

It’s not a worry how I’m gonna eat, or sleep or care for myself.
It’s not a worry whether my children will be educated,
nicely dressed and proper fed.
Because they will be, I can make it happen. That’s just the case.

But I worry for my soul, for the nights I have to spend alone,
for drowning in the memories long gone,
for the rotten apples I will have to eat
before I meet the apple of my dreams.

And I worry for my kids, for their feelings and emotions
and knowing they will grow up only having me.
I’m not a fool, I’m not enough, I’ll never be…
because mom and dad together is what makes a home complete.

 

 

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Feminism Gone Wrong – When Rights Turn into Responsibilities

This one has been long coming…

Let me give you some insights and pointers that can also serve as a disclaimer. I come from a small Balkan country (it’s in Europe, although it doesn’t really look so European) where many of the people are still very conservative in their way of thinking and find it hard to embrace change. For some reason though, to all the girls and women I know feminism comes naturally. They don’t feel the need to shout “I have rights”, they just know they do. I am one of them.

Growing up in an environment where many women went to work and still took care of their families gave me the confidence to believe in myself, to feel equal to the man and able to do anything I choose to. I never understood why white Western women were protesting in the 90s and early 2000s for equal rights with their men. Didn’t they have them already? I mean, they were surely allowed to work, vote, be elected and so on. Was it just the pay gap? If yes, then ok, we still face this problem. But something tells me it wasn’t. These white Western women knew very well that the role of a man in the society and in the family is much easier that the role of a woman. He goes to work, he earns enough money to pay the bills and put food on the table. Then he comes home to a warm dinner, happy kids and a loyal wife, who he assumes is not as tired as him, because “she doesn’t work”. Women were fed up with their role and the little appreciation it got them so they wanted to be men. They wanted to call the shots. For everything.

From the innocent and very logical “I want to have the right to go to work” we went to”I don’t want to wash dishes”, “I don’t want to stay home with my children”, “I don’t want to be dependent on my husband”. Some women took it to extremes saying that a woman is more than a man and forgetting that initially feminism was a fight for equality, not superiority.

And then… Oh what a shock! Men got really offended. At first they were angry, then they saw an opportunity to make their lives even easier without looking bad. They gave us what we wanted – wear the pants in the house, but little did we know they were teaching us a lesson. We had even less idea of the fact that the rights we fought for would turn to be our responsibilities.

It’s not a lie that in many families these days the woman is the sole provider. It started as her choice – she wanted a career, financial independence and a feeling of self-accomplishment. It is now a responsibility. That change in the society we wanted is here. We are no longer expected to stay home with our children, we are expected to go to work. All of us, the ones who want to chase a career and the ones who don’t. They say we have the right to choose, but do we really? Isn’t it that same society we changed, who will judge us for our choices still?

So what do we do – we accept times have changed and we must be modern women, no matter how we feel. However, that damn human nature can’t be turned down with a flip of a switch. Female emotions are still there, mother’s instinct is still there. We naturally still want to take care of our families, which means we end up doing two jobs like real feminists… We are no longer women with power, we are forced to be women with superpowers! As much as it sounds flattering, it feels much more exhausting. Men just stay by the side and laugh… Can we blame them? I can’t. We gave them the perfect excuse to say “I don’t want to go to work, I need to find myself, my wife will take care of us.” Or even better “I don’t need to buy her presents, she is an independent woman, whatever she needs, she can buy herself.” Isn’t that our dream come true?

Because for so long we preached to men we are stronger than them, they no longer feel the need to take care of us. Because for so long we shouted “I don’t need a man”, we are asking “Where are the men” now. Because after we were given the right to be equal to the man we wanted to be more, we have now more responsibilities than they’ve ever had. There’s no fun in being independent if your independence is a requirement for survival.

We so fiercely taught men we don’t need their protection that when we actually do they are nowhere to be found. We told them we are strong, so they took it as a permission to be weak. Just in the past few months a woman was raped in front of her husband’s eyes and all he did was trying to call the police, but with no success. Days ago 60 women were sexually assaulted in public in Germany and there was no man to defend their bodies and their dignity.

Are we really that strong? Do we really not need men in our lives? Is it fine for our children to grow without fathers? Can we take care of everything with our two hands? Most importantly should we? Because if we should…why do men exist?

By all means ladies, know your worth. Be the queens that you are and follow your dreams. But don’t forget a queen on her own is just a warrior with a crown, a queen ruling with a king is an endless stream of beauty, wisdom and vitality. At the end of the day, to make ourselves feel happy and complete maybe we should consider being less feminist and more feminine.

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The right to have power

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The power to be weak

 

 

 

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What is Love Actually?

A wise man told me once “You are only 20 now, you have a certain definition of love. When you become 25 that definition will change. And when you are 30 it will be even more different than the previous two.”

I lay here tonight in an empty bed, a bed I should be sharing with my husband, and I can’t help but think – what is love actually? Four years have scrolled now and as much as I’ve changed a lot of my views on relationships and romantic feelings I still define love with loyalty, respect and the strong desire to make your significant other happy… within reason. Yes, these last two words are what has changed about my definition of love in the past few years.

When I was younger and in my previous relationship, I used to be very selfish. I refused to make a compromise even when it was due. It was hard for me to admit my mistakes and apologise. Yet, I was loved. Deeply and truly. And even looking at it now from a very different perspective I can’t doubt for a second the genuineness of that man’s feelings towards me.

Moving on to my next and current relationship I thought it’s time to start admitting my wrongs. I began to be more observant of myself and more critical to my behaviour. It was as if I wanted to make up for all the times I was stubborn and inconsiderate before. The “new” me compromised a lot. Actually, a lot more than I’ve ever imagined I could. Guess what – that didn’t turn me into the Goddess of my partner’s life. It turned me into a silent letter with little to no identity. It reflected on the way he saw me. I was not a puzzle anymore. He knew whatever he does, I will accept, whatever he says, I will agree. Maybe not without a fight, but eventually he would get his way. There was no intrigue, no surprise – only the annoying part of arguing until I break because I love him. He began to be less interested and as I result I began to feel more miserable and blame him for my unhappiness.

In my eyes he didn’t love me, because I couldn’t get enough of his attention and affection.  As time passed by, apart from getting little attention and affection, I began to feel the lack of appreciation as well. That turned my sadness into anger. And then I realised love is respect. Not only respect towards your other half, but firstly and fore-mostly self-respect. If you can’t respect yourself, whether you are a man or a woman, how would others do? And if they can’t respect you, how would they love you? It is simply impossible.

Once again, I learned my lesson. It was bad to be selfish but it was also no better to be submissive. I had to go back and pick bits and pieces of the two versions of myself and build a third one – Me 3.0. I took the confidence, I took the ambition, I took the willingness to compromise and the compassion. I added the pinch of wisdom I had gained with time to help me determine where the limits of all of the above are. I thought I had created a well-balanced and mature new me and that would solve all my problems. The truth is – it probably would if with the new upgrade of myself I entered also a new relationship. However, that was not the case.

You see, once you sleep on a nice bed with soft and comfy mattress that moulds just the way you want it to give you maximum comfort, you never want to go back to the hard one that would make you constantly adjust to find a good sleeping position. So that’s what happened in my relationship as well. I was so soft and submissive for so long that the moment I toughened up, the moment I began to stand my ground and demand to be taken care of emotionally and any other way, my partner decided that I no longer think like him and we don’t click. He thought I would support him in any decision and action even if it made me feel extremely unhappy and uncomfortable, just because his happiness was important to me.  So when I told him he also needs to strive to make me happy even if that won’t make things easy for him, he refused to agree. Can I blame him without blaming myself? Not really. I taught him it’s ok to not be so considerate of me, I turned him into the selfish one in our relationship with the constant sacrifices of my own happiness.

So I lay here tonight in an empty bed, a bed I should be sharing with my husband, and I can’t help but think – what is love actually? Is it not a late night honest talk? Is not a spontaneous grab of a hand? Is it not looking at the other person and silently thanking God for bringing them into your life? Is it not the loyalty to one another? Is it not the realisation of the fact that a life without them would be 10 times harder than life with them? Is it not the joy of sharing a meal together? Is it not the trembling of your heart every time you hear the door opening because it might be them? Is it not the desire to see them smiling and be the reason for it? Is it not the readiness to walk miles to make them happy?

If all these are there, is it love? And if they aren’t is it not?

 

What do you wish for

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Black Love is Not Endangered, White Love is Not Boring, Interracial Love is Not Trendy, All You Need is LOVE!

It always gets to me when people are being racist in their comments, whether it comes from blacks, whites or any other race out there. The truth is, many of these people don’t even realise they are being racist. There is no such thing like “Black people cannot be racist”. Of course they can and many are, which is sad because I personally think if you have felt the pain of something, you shouldn’t cause that same pain to others.

What is more disturbing, though, is the fact that somehow we always feel the need to label things even when they don’t need to be labelled. An example for this is love. It was recently I noticed that social media is floated with posts like “Save the black love”, “Black love still exists”, “Black love is beautiful”. My fellow black people, love between individuals of the same race is still very much alive and thriving and does not need your protection, defense and promotion, simply because it is not endangered. Yes, we see people swirling these days much more than it happened in the past, but you shouldn’t see this as a negative occurrence. Instead, see it as a result of your long and heroic fights against slavery, against discrimination, against racial insults. We are all equal and it is great that more people now realise it isn’t important whether our partners look like us, but if they make us happy. And the ability to make another person happy is not dependent on race, nor on origin, nor on appearance, nor on religion. It only depends on the person themselves and to what extend they click with the other.

Beautiful black lady, do not be scared, do not be spiteful. You are gorgeous and we all see it. But in your desire to prove no less than others, don’t make it sound like others are less than you. There are millions of black men out there that are attracted to you and will not only take you out and date you, but will also marry you and spend their lives with you. Not because you are black, but because you are worth it.

Dear black man, if you have chosen your perfect black lady, make her feel like she is the only girl in the world, treat her right, be her stronghold, help her, protect her, don’t make her feel she needs to prove worthy to you, because she already is. Most importantly, tell her you love her, not because she is black, but because she is your woman.

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Now, if you’ve seen the pictures on my other posts you would know I am in an interracial relationship, in fact, interracial marriage. Some of you are probably thinking I am biased and that’s why I wrote what I wrote above, some may even think I am one of those skanky white women, stealing black men. No and no. I am not biased because I don’t like colour-coding love. To me it is a feeling that can occur between any two individuals. I don’t steal black men because 1. they are not someone’s possession and 2. I do not force them to be with me.

However, I like to always be honest and fair. I do understand why some people have a hard time accepting the boom of interracial relationships. A few days ago some black girl posted “I liked black men before it was trendy”. At first I felt a little offended as this was indirectly implying that I’ve decided to be with the man I am with, not  because of his personal qualities, but simply following my desire to be current and fall in line with a stupid trend. And how can dating someone based on their physical appearance be a trend anyway? Then I thought about it some more. In fact, I do have a lot of white girlfriends who keep saying things like “I can only date black guys”, “White guys are boring, I want me some chocolate man”, “I’ve moved on to black guys”, “Oh my God, I want a mixed race kid so much”. I didn’t really pay much attention to those statements when they were actually said, but now when I remembered all of them and thought about it, it got me even angrier than I was at posts defending “black love”. I mean, are you out of your mind? How the hell will his skin colour determine if he will love you or make you happy? How will it assure you that you will be taken care of or your children if you don’t know him as a person, if his qualities, aspirations and priorities do not fall in line with yours? Damn it, love is not a fucking trend!

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And if this is not bad enough, it gets worse… Thinking and ranting about the “interracial trend” led me to another one that has been bothering me for quite some time and, dear Lord, it finally hit me that the two are connected. I am talking about the trend of white girls growing big butts and flaunting them on any social media channel they can think of. I can’t begin to describe how pathetic and hypocrite this looks in my eyes. Just few years ago, those same white girls were shaming black women for their body shape and size, for the same big butts they are going extremes to get now. And why? Because they decided it would be cool to have a black boyfriend but we all know black men like their women curvy (not fat, curvy!) so next thing – let’s show we can grow asses too.

White girl, sit your flat ass down! If God didn’t create you with big boobs or big bum, it means you were not supposed to have it. If a guy likes you, he will like you for who you are without the pimping and the tinting. If it takes a big ass to catch his attention, then he’s not your man and you can be sure as hell, that same ass won’t be enough to keep him. Then you’ll sit down and cry “Oh, but he left me.”, “He just had sex with me and not even replying my texts anymore”, “I saw him with another girl the other day”. Hmmm…I wonder why…but here’s a suggestion – you used your ass to get him, that was your selling point, the unique reason why he should have been interested in you. What are asses in men’s eyes? Sexual objects. What do they want to use them for? Have sex. Right, he had sex with you because your butt is nice. You offered something, he tried it, had a good time, now he’s gone. It’s really that simple. So next time if you want a guy to like you, be with you and commit to you, chill on growing your ass and grow some personality! Same applies to black girls and girls from any other race that try to catch a man with their physique. It will work, you will get him, but you won’t keep him. So your choice really…

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Lastly, I want to address the statement that white couples are boring, white men have small dicks and are not good in bed. Maybe some white couples are boring, but so are some black, Asian, interracial, Latino. Regarding the penis size… no matter how many research studies and scientific reports show that black men are more endowed in the downstairs department, it still does not change the fact that the largest penis I’ve seen is white. I’ve been with a white and a black guy, I enjoyed sex with both of them. I can’t say I like this one or that one better because my sexual experiences with these men were so different that is almost impossible for me to compare, but both were good, both had flaws, both made me come.

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The moral of the story, ladies and gentlemen is, you CANNOT generalise people based on their race, nationality, religion, etc. Racism will never die until  we learn to see ourselves and the people around us just as humans, until we teach our eyes not to see the colour of the skin, but the radiance of the soul, until we learn not to label internal and vital feelings like love with colours. Love is for all of us, it belongs to everyone and is not possessed by anyone. Love each other and humanity will be saved.

Peace out!

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Expensive Woman

Have you noticed how men always complain that women only want them for their money? And I am starting to think, it’s not just their imagination.

I see more and more women nowadays caring about stupid things like, where is he taking me for dinner, what dress is he buying me. I hear conversations and comments like “Oh, but these are not designer shoes! Is he mad?” “He wants to propose, but the ring is tiny and that’s not a diamond. He must be taking the piss!” “I want a house cleaner – no way on earth am I going to spoil my manicure, for which, of course he paid.” “My friend Lara has an iPhone 6, her boyfriend gave it to her. My idiot is still making me embarrass myself with a 5s model. He doesn’t love me.”

I wish I could describe with words the look on my face. Since when do we measure love in bank account sizes, gifts and precious stones? Some would say it’s always been the case. Well, if you are saying that, then maybe the quotes above belong to your daughters. My momma told me one thing “Never settle for a guy that doesn’t give you flowers”. Note, she said give not buy. She didn’t mention expensive holidays, designer clothes, humongous jewellery. In fact, she never made an implication that I should expect this from a man as an ultimate requirement to be with him. So I grew up with the thought that I have to provide for myself and get everything I want with my own money, money that I worked for. And no, having sex with a man is not work, not in my world. I grew up with the mindset of an independent woman, but not the type that flashes assets that belong to someone else.

All of you, fine polished ladies, while you claim of being highly independent, why is your love so dependent? Why do you run away the second his money is finished, or he stops paying your bills or taking you places? Or why do you never notice him before you notice his bank account has just filled up? Aaahhh… I know, you want to be spoiled. Yes, of course, every woman wants to be spoiled by her man, including me. But I have the feeling you won’t like my idea of spoiling… cause it doesn’t really involve a fat wallet. When I want to be with someone I just tell him:

Give me flowers once in a while, without an occasion, just because you want to see my smile. Don’t buy them, pick them up from the park. I don’t need a bouquet of roses, just a single one, secretly taken from the neighbour’s garden.

Take me to the beach, it doesn’t have to be a luxurious island. Any coast is just fine. Sit with me and watch the ocean. Let me put my head on your shoulder.

Cook for me, the way you know I like it. Put a little slice of cheese on the side, even though it seems ridiculous to you. No need to take me to an expensive restaurant for dinner. If you do, just pull the chair for me to sit and push it back. Look me in the eyes, while you are talking to me and don’t check your phone every 5 minutes.

Lie down with me and watch a nice movie. It doesn’t have to be romantic, just a movie that appeals to both of us. Let me snuggle with you. I’d like that more than going to the cinema.

Buy me perfumes. No need to be Channel. Just a perfume with a vibrant, but classy scent. I will wear it everyday and it will remind me of you.

Don’t get me jewellery and shoes, and bags, and other extras for our anniversary. Write me a poem, make me a memory box, ask a friend to write a song for me and sing it, even if you are a terrible singer.

Kiss me on the forehead. Hug me from behind. Carry me like a baby from the kitchen to the bedroom. Run your fingers through my hair. Kiss me goodnight. Say sorry. Say I love you. Show me your love.

This is how I want to be spoilt. Seems like a very cheap way to keep a girl around, doesn’t it? I’m getting the sense that it doesn’t. Because all of you men, who complain about the golddiggers, sucking on your wealth, you would always prefer them thousand times to the woman that wants your attention and your love. You would rather spend your money, than your emotions. So why are you complaining? You choose the cheap ones with expensive taste, because you know you can’t satisfy the expensive women with a real taste.

Chop, chop, go back to work, because bae is waiting for the next payment to be done so she could stick around!

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Build Your Tomorrow

The essence of making mistakes is learning from them. I am sure we’ve all been taught this at school, by our parents and friends. But some mistakes… They are so sweet that we just want to make them again and again and again, because they make us happy…today. And what about tomorrow? You see, we live in a world where today is most important, very few are interested in tomorrow, in fact the majority of us do not believe in tomorrow. And this is the biggest mistake we make and seem not to learn from.

None of us is perfect. There’s none of you here, who is reading this that can tell me he/she has never fucked up. If there is, I’ll call you a liar. It is not by the number of mistakes we’ve made to be decided if we are smart or not, but by the number of mistakes we’ve learned from. And to be honest with you, it isn’t so hard to learn to be better. It doesn’t take a superhero, neither a genius, it simply takes strong will and humanity, something that we all have, but seems to be hidden and locked under the influence of the modern world. We just need to find it and unlock it.

Let me ask you – have you been hurt in your life? Yes. So why would you want to cause the same pain to somebody else? Everything we do in our lives has a direct impact on us, on the people we involve in it and in many cases, on those who we didn’t even think of. And the latter, they usually suffer the most. Life is a naughty wheel, you see, it never stops rolling and you never know what side you will find yourself at the next day. Today is nothing like tomorrow. But today can build your tomorrow!

Let’s talk about karma, or simply positive and negative enegergy, rewards and punishments. They are all real and they control our lives, we can’t get rid of them, but we can choose, which one we want to be leading in our life. People we hurt in the name of our happiness will dislike us, they will send negative thoughts our way and this will undoubtedly affect us. Eventually, we will find ourselves walking in their shoes and feeling their pain. Reversly, when we are good, respectful and considerate of other individuals, they will keep on sending us their positive energy and love. This will rise us higher mentally, emotionally and even physically. And then we will be truly happy.

It is in the human nature to be selfish, to want the best for ourselves, to put our happiness first. So go on and do it! Be selfish, but not for today! Build your happy tomorrow! Because today will finish in a couple of hours, but tomorrow will bring many more ahead. Plan and build your tomorrow, make it glow in happiness, learn from your mistakes, even learn from other people’s mistakes, be a reason for at least 3 people to smile today and you will have at least 3 reasons to be happy tomorrow. I can do it, you can do it, and the more of us decide to work for their happiness tomorrow, the less unhappy people we will meet every day. So what’s it gonna be? Are you going to be happy tomorrow?

 

 

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My lucky 3

Three years ago I was a happy, free-minded girl that just started university and discovered that she can stir a hot mess only by walking in a room full of men. I didn’t expect that, but it was a nice surprise and soon became a sweet addiction. So three years ago, on that day, I walked into the student union room, where I had made many friends and felt like the only girl in the world. I went there with a box of chocolates to celebrate my name day. I knew, I was fully aware that I am going to receive a lot of attention and made feel special, because these men were hunters and as every good and well-experienced, self-respecting hunter, each and every one of them would use tricks to weaken the pray. But hey, I knew that as well. So I was there just to enjoy the competition. What I didn’t know is that on that day I would meet my husband. Yes, that’s right! “Here’s the best hunter!” – you must be thinking, and to an extent you might be right, but do you know why he stroke me? He wasn’t there to catch a pray. He was calm and laid back, almost a little arrogant. We spent hours talking and laughing about regular stuff – series, music, fashion, different cultures, and at that time art and exploring cultural differences was my life. I could feel he’s interested in a way, but he never said it, he never made it obvious and that’s what made me interested. When I left the SU room I knew in my heart, I want to see that man again, but wasn’t sure if I would. Well, I did, 2 days later and I felt butterflies in my stomach, but not the inlove ones that spin your head and make you see pink clouds. No, not these butterflies. I got the butterflies that make you feel a thrill and excitement of something you secretly hoped for at the back of your mind, actually coming true. And then our first kiss happened. It wasn’t magical and romantic and sweet, but boy, was that kiss intense! If you ask him today, he wouldn’t even know what I’m talking about, because he doesn’t remember, but what am I here for, if not to remind him.

He still gives me butterflies, sometimes the pink clouds ones, sometimes the intense thrill and passion ones and sometimes the ones that make me wanna knock him down with the kitchen pan. But what does it matter? They are there, he still makes me walk on my toes and still keeps me interested. He turned me into a woman, sometimes he makes me happy, sometimes he makes me cry, he has the power to raise me to the top and to burry me underground. He has it, because I gave it to him, because that’s what love is about, giving out your heart with the clear mind that it can be crushed, but giving it anyway. Some people have a different word for that, they call it stupidity and I call them stupid. You can never feel true love unless you dive into it, into its deepest parts. And you have to believe that just a moment before you drown, you will be carried onto the surface. My husband is afraid to dive in sometimes, I don’t know if that’s related to the fact that he literally can’t swim, but he fears deep waters, both literally and metaphorically. And this where my place is. To be patient, but encouraging enough to help him overcome these fears. And I BELIEVE we will get there. Today I start my lucky 3, or let me correct myself, our lucky 3. Our relationship started not like any other one, it developed not like any other one, and I know it won’t end like any other one. In fact, I know it won’t end. Why? Because if he forgets sometimes he loves me, I am there to remind, if sometimes I forget I love him, he gives me butterflies – all kinds of them and we carry on. That’s how I know he is my man and my destiny and I have no regrets.

Here’s our lucky 3, let it be the first day of the rest of our beautiful life together.

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