“Let’s meet at my house.” That was the text message she sent after our long phone call. A phone call in which I poured my heart out her. “Can you believe that dolt left for another woman? He told me he is going to marry her! He is marrying her! Not me! He left meeeeeee! For her!! She is expecting his baby!” I cried rancorously. My boyfriend, Trevor, now ex, invited me to our favorite restaurant, at our favorite spot on a calm afternoon to tell me that we had to end things. That he had been seeing someone else and he finally realized she was the woman of his dreams. Can you imagine, he even told me her name? Eileen. Such a cute name don’t you think? He went on to tell me that Eileen was expecting his baby and that he wanted to settle down. He also apologized….profusely, for messing with my feelings and wished me all the best in my next relationship! Such a prick! That’s when I ferociously stabbed him in the throat with the fork I was holding…. no wait, I didn’t….but I almost. Where I was raised, girls were taught to tame their demons. We grew up knowing that a woman who can’t contain herself is huge turn off, so I smiled and told him it was OK. He was immensely shocked by my reaction, I think he expected me to yell and threaten to burst his lip or break his skull and eat his brains out. Since there was nothing else to say, I excused myself and ran to my car fighting every tear.

That’s when I called Shanah, the lady who asked me to meet her, at her place. Normally she would suggest we meet at our usual, Crustys Bar. On the call, she gave me a listening ear, she has always done that. Sometimes I hate the way she keenly observes and listens to me. It makes me feel like a lab specimen laid bare for tests and meticulous analysis. During the phone call I cried like a widow! I let out every scintilla of emotion that the breakup had caused. It was ugly! My mascara was all over! I banged my hand severally on the dashboard until it was sore. I even slapped myself for being such a fool, my cheek deserved that slap for being caressed by his hands. The same indecorous hands that caressed Eileen! But you see putting myself together has always been my thing, I do it like I studied for it and graduated with honors. So I wiped my tears, redid my makeup and voila! I was ready. I drove to Shanah’s house rather calmly, blasting music, ‘Tiwa Savage’s Wanted’ on repeat, to be precise as I sang along to the chorus,

Hmmm, by the way nothing you fit do
Said by the way, nothing you fit do
Cause by the way, I’m better than you
That’s why I’m wanted
That’s why I’m wanted

Yes I was better than her! Better him! That’s why I was wanted! But wanted by who? There was something mollifying about this song, the chorus mostly. It was just enigmatic.

I got to Shanah’s Westlands apartment after a 20 mins drive. She welcomed me in with a hug. Donned in a tight leopard print tank top tucked in a denim booty short, she sashayed to into the house. Her lips were painted deep cherry red and she wore a long wavy weave. There was some almost nonexistent Mayonde’s Isukuti Love playing in the background and the air was rather warm. We both took seats on her grey leather couch. Her living room was a piece of art, from the exotic paintings intricately hanging on the wall, to the minimalist but statement pieces of décor, to my favorite, the soft furry carpet that always took my feet to straight to heaven.

“Darling! Am glad you made it here! Welcome” Shanah announced ceremoniously.

“Thanks.” I replied nonchalantly.

For some reason I have always hated and loved Shanah or maybe I have secretly been envious of her….. Maybe it’s a mixture of all that. She is the type of woman that has had men chase her. The who one breaks up with them. Kisses them and makes them cry. Yes, she’s made grown ass men cry! Uses them as she pleases and disposes them off like dirty gloves. She oozes sex appeal for days, a total head turner. She is hot and she is fully aware of it. Whoever said that there is beauty in a woman oblivious of her beauty, was wrong…dead wrong, because Shanah’s self-awareness was the most beautiful thing I have seen on a woman. She has been seeing a married man and I never judged her because she seemed happy. According to her, married men are the new black, the Alejandro of our time. Shanah always said that every relationship is polygamous, she just chooses to be aware of her co wife. The wife of her boyfriend is well aware of Shanah’s existence. In fact, the last time these two women had a confrontation, Shanah called her a second rate hag who needed to get a life. Those insults crushed the poor woman and she ran out crying to Shanah’s delight. “I love to crush my co-wife like the pesky roach that she is!” Shanah always said. I sometimes pity the wife of this guy but the world is fucked up right? Plus she has the option of walking out? Huh? Anyway don’t mind me. What do I know about love?

“Want some?” Shanah asked handing me a blunt of weed that she pulled from a small bag on the table.

“No. I don’t smoke weed.” I replied coldly.

“Oops! I forgot I was dealing with a good girl!” She remarked scornfully.


“So the good girl gets offended when called a good girl?”

“Am not a good girl! Am just me!”

“Listen dear, the reason why you were dumped so fashionably, is because you are a good girl.”

“I didn’t come here to analyze the reasons why I was dumped!”

“Then why did you come?”

Widening my eyes cheeckily “You summoned me…..I guess.”

“Hehehe! Anyway what will you have? Milk or water?”

“Vodka!” I retorted rolling my eyes

“Ha! The good girl actually takes vodka!”

“Shanah!” I gave her a stern look.

She went to the kitchen and came back with two glasses and a vodka bottle.

“Now we can start talking.” She said handing me a glass.

“Shanah, how do you do it?” I asked submissively.

“Do what?” She smiled triumphantly, I was finally taking. Asking her to share a piece of her wisdom. The ice queen’s heart was thawing, at last.

“Get these guys? You know …..Keep them around and hooked like they are high on coke?”

“Sorry dear that’s my secret.” She responded playfully.

“For real! Look at me! I did everything to keep Trevor. (Counting my fingers) I was supportive, loving, caring (shrugging)…….sexy! All that for him to leave for someone else!”

“You were indeed sexy. I mean that dress looks divine and your make up looks flawless. Wait did you redo the make up? (answering herself after I rolled my eyes to that question) Of course you did! Did you dress this gorgeously for Trevor?”

“Why do I hate the tone of your last questions?”

“Because I am about to tell you the truth. You are a good girl, good girls are treated like basicas. They get hurt ………and get apologies because of their (drawing invisible quotation marks in the air with her fingers) goodness.”

“So…. I should be mean?”

“No, you should look out for yourself!”

“Is that why you are a side chic?” I asked hoping not to offend her.

“No I am not a side chic, I am a mistress! Proudly!”

“Uuumh! Is there a difference?”

“A big one. The side chic gets fucked while the mistress gets paid!”

“Ooook! (I nodded my head, trying to digest that piece of information) But where did you read that?”

“Hahaha! Do you want me to credit my sources or you just don’t believe in my originality?”

“I’d say both.” I nodded smiling.

“OK, I read it in Ho Tactics by G.L. Lambert. You see, men love independent women as much as they love to provide, but if you are always flashing the ‘Miss Independent’ card, then you will only end up attracting broke niggas! Who will use you …….then dump you! On that note, please swear to me that you did not pay for the date in which you were dumped!” She declared impatiently.

“When the bill came, Trevor claimed to have misplaced his ATM card and had no money on him so I paid because I wanted to leave like a classy woman. Drama free!” I tried to justify my actions warding off every sign of anger that was building up. I was angry at how predictable I had become. Shanah was asking questions like she knew everything that transpired between Trevor and I during our afternoon date.

“Lord Jesus! You paid the bill after he dumped you? Who are you? Mother Teresa’s incarnate?”

“What was I to do? I hate drama and you know it!” I yelled. By now the decibels of our voices had gone a bit higher and the vodka quantity had significantly gone down.

“Drama always gets the point home honey! You should have left that dimwit to foot the damn bill! He invited you to the date in the first freaking place! I wanna kill that fool already!” She angrily rose from the couch.

“Relax Shanah, I came for your advice and you are losing your cool already?” I mocked her

“Listen dear. You deserve better.” She moved and sat close to me gently rubbing my back.

“Eeeeeeh? Should I feel better or remind you that I am straight? Keep your distance!” I puckishly pushed her away.

“You seem tired of men, you should try women!” She responded mischievously

“You are such a pain! I have never understood how I do it, but I love and hate you at the same time.”

“Hahaha! My boyfriend tells me that too. But just remember, that nice girls never made history, bad bitches did!”

“Where did you read that?”

We both burst into laughter as Shanah could not believe the little faith I had in her creativity. I sunk into the couch processing her quote as a vodka sip irrigated my throat. She is a mess but for once she made sense ama?


The thing about me, is that I believe I am incredibly dope.

Muthoni Drummer Queen

Singer, Songwriter, Drummer, Entrepreneur

Have a dope week.






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