Big beautiful and unloveable

29 and never been loved? Its 2017 and im yearning, for love love, not that fast food kinda love. Some of my friends will be shocked because falling in love has never been a priority. Now here I am begging God, praying daily for someone to love me.
I the last time I felt anything close to a love secure and transcendent I was in high school. I’d met my boyfriend at the time through a mutual friend of ours. And he loved me; he moved cities to be with me, left his family and friends just for me. I was his only plan. How whimsical. I was still in matric, he had finished 3 years prior. Being 18 years old I was pretty convinced that I was a grown ass woman, and I sank deep into love and it felt amazing. I remember.
Our relationship lasted a year. I can’t remember why broke up, but we did anyway. I went through the heart ache. What followed thereafter was a series of situationships that left me a little sore but I moved passed them in one piece, because love, heartache, joy and pain are all the flavours of life. Being single is very familiar to me, it’s what I know best. For the most part I didn’t mind either because of the full awareness that none of the men I’d met were people I could tolerate for long periods of time, or honestly, because some were just not that into me. A lesson and sidenote: Ive got that bombass pussy, but I’m not good enough to love. Truly love… This has become a painful part of my existence. What’s wrong with me? No one wants to love me and yet I have a whole ocean of love to offer. An entire ocean dear God, I think I’m owed receipts.
Years after my high school boyfriend I fell in love with a beautiful man in 2009, with the biggest heart. He was sincere and gentle. He was big, a rugby player, and a coach for one of our provincial teams. I fitted perfectly in his arms. He was based in Joburg, whenever his team had games in Cape Town we would meet up. I think I loved him… I think he loved me, but it was definitely a situation, and one I entered into knowingly. Our lives were just different. I don’t regret anything. Love is energy, and energy is always moving, so eventually we both moved on.I don’t remember him doing me wrong or disrespecting me. He’s married now, to a woman who loves him. He’s the type of guy who deserves love, the deepest kind and I’m happy for him.
2012, December. The weather in Cape Town was amazing, perfect for love, lust, dancing and laughter. It was the perfect summer, my God. Chumisa insists that we “have to go to this concert, it’s going to be A-mazing”!! I can still see her excited face. I agreed to go because the Cape Town art scene was ablaze, we knew all the right people and occupied all the right spaces. That Friday after work Chumisa and Lerato arrived, we had pre-drinks then headed to The Afro Galactic Dream Factory. It was trippy as fuck and the best art experience I’v been to to date. That’s where I met the man who made my 2013 out of this world. Most of this relationship existed digitally, I was never more grateful for Skype and Whatsapp. I only saw my visual artist, musician, poet lover when he was in the country performing. He was based in Holland. I don’t think the fact that our relationship was supported by technology minimized the intensity of our love. Not at all. I loved this man and he loved me, but I could not have him in his physicality. Our shit was complex, painful. Life and time happened, and the space between our correspondences grew larger. He then went on to have a kid with some white woman, another addition to his two other brown babies. That was all the closure I needed. I knew he wanted a kid, I just we’d wait for each other.
Then, let me tell you about this trifflin ass lowlife I met in 2015, December in Lusikisiki. Lol we can cry laughing about it now, but when it was happening to me it was all tears of pain, the older I get the more urgent my realization for love is in my heart. And though it is scary, my heart is wide open to the prospect of happiness and devotion of one to another… When I met this Mpondo dude I was more than will to give myself to him. I mean, why half-ass it? Ridicule me if you like.
I had just returned from the Middle East where I lived briefly with a friend of mine who is originally from Lusikisiki in the Eastern Cape. During her leave from her job as a flight attendant she invited me to visit. It was a bomb vacation, Lusiki is quite a crumby little town but its inhabitants are firebombs, always creating their own fun. “Amagoduka”: village/small town people who’ve returned home for vacation. Lol, don’t get me started on the God complex!!! I met this brother, he was a resident DJ at a local pub. What good can come from meeting someone etywaleni anyway?? We swapped numbers, called and texted briefly, then before I knew it the following month I was back in his hometown as his girlfriend, meeting his friends and family. I later learned that Amampondo throw around the term “Makoti” (wife) very loosely, and that the whole time the joke was on me. I was a made a door mat and a glorified booty call by a man who didn’t care for my feelings or dignity and always failed to be honest. This man publicly humiliated me on a number of occasions, directly and indirectly, each time minimizing the validity of my grievances. The heart wanting what the heart wants lead me densely astray on this one. Anyway good riddance. Hes married now, to his girlfriend of four years. I wish his wife all the best, anyway she BEEN knowing wassup. What a fucking knob. The sex was good though.
Each time, left alone. Any of these brothers could’ve easily chosen me, our circumstances could have been different, or I could’ve have just met someone who actually sees me, hears me, feels me… but this was never the case. I look around me and see things aligning for people, my friends, family all kinds of people. And though I am unaware of the complexities of their relationships, the point is that they are at least presented with the opportunity to try knead it out, make it work, submit to each other, support one another. But not me. Am I comparing? I don’t know. I don’t care. I just feel duped because every day I pray to God, creator of all things, my protector and provider. Can You respond? I pray, daily, silently and out loud: Give me someone to love, someone to love me, not for a few weeks or months. I want forever. Shit man, or at least a very fucking long time (Look at me compromising ALREADY). I don’t know this experience, and I will not apologize for wanting it. God, You sure make a lot of promises, and You fulfil most. I am not ungrateful for all that You have blessed me with. You hear my prayers daily, so NO I will not apologize. Right here and right now this is what I want!
Its 2017 and I was enjoying being single, zero complaints, soaking in the love and laughter I always shared with family and mates. I was minding my business during a night out with friends when I met a brother who totally swooned over me. I cannot over emphasize eagerness and seeming sincerity in this brother’s approach. I took a week to pray about. I figured, surely, meeting this man had God’s hand. I made a conscious decision to be present in this experience with this man. Three months into it I’ve never cried so much in life, or felt such deep heart ache over someone whose intensions seemed to be so pure. I do not feel loved, it does not feel like a relationship. Ok Tatu Thixo, so what the fuck now?! How could you allow this?
Too often I have been lured into traps that leave me doubting my worth. And as much as scream at You, You don’t answer. It’s just silence. You must be a man, a misogynist and a bigot… You know all I have is love and commitment and devotion. I thought the reason ive been mostly single during my lifetime is because You were preserving me for a man who’ll love and cherish me. But seemingly not. How will I know if I am a factory reject and destined to be alone and unloveable forever AMEN if You don’t communicate? How will I know to just continue praying for things like good health, blessings and peace in my heart , and STOP praying for love? Maybe im too ugly and too fat. But how when I am made in your glorious image?
And again: silence.


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