Sex, Love and Money.

I just spent the night with an ex-girlfriend trying to figure out what the hell went wrong between us and as usual we couldn’t agree on anything. This woman, like most women would rather drink forty sleeping pills and slit her wrist while throwing herself off the hundredth floor of the Carlton Centre before taking responsibility for anything or admitting guilt of any kind. I’ve been dread writing this piece because I’m one of privileged many brothers that know the wrath of a black woman scorned.

This piece will ruffle a few feathers whichever way it’s written and I choose to boldly go where no man dares to go. Mas’ ringen I waar bantu benkosi, black women are proper pain to go out with, but they’re still the first draft picks in a brother’s search for candidate lovers. My biggest hurdle so far is finding a sister that’s idealistic and possible naïve enough to believe in a love that’s independent of sex and money issues. With the ex, it’s a default requirement that a man should be a provider in a relationship. She’s rather old school like that. I personally don’t mind playing that role as it feels great being able to provide a sense of security to someone you love. In fact, it’s rather a natural reflex when you’re a brother because I was brought up that way.

What doesn’t feel right is when the money becomes the prerequisite for any love to occur. Now, I need to clarify that that ex-girlfriend was not a gold digger and money was never an issue when we went out. I mention her because losing her has meant I’ve had to hit the scene with a new swagger in the hope of finding an ever so elusive love. The problem is because of my experience with her, I have this unnerving loneliness I’m not exactly acquainted with. It’s turned out that her love was a pure as A-Grade Colombian and even more addictive. Finding a dealer that stocks the same quality of love isn’t easy. The quality that’s out there on the streets is contaminated with issues of money and sex. It’s not the good stuff by a long shot.

Consider the following songs, which were most probably produced by guys, but are nevertheless excitedly endorsed by our black sisters. Has to be because it’s never a club anthem until you’ve heard and seen black women move to it you know “…’Asinamali, futhi asinamoto-kodwa sphethe iwewe”, “…fak’imali uzobona”, “…I don’t want no scrub” and  “…mawungena mali hamb’ uyolala” so and so on. Sisters are money crazy. These love merchants (them sisters) have cooked up a new formula for love, it’s “my wewe plus your money equals love”. We brothers are merely manipulating the rules of the game that’s been predetermined by sisters.

Like I mentioned before, my radar has been on high alert for a while now and just in case I come across a gem and sadly we’ve had no hits so far. If anything, I’m beginning to believe there are no real sisters out there. And by “real” I don’t mean women who have written the clichéd “Oh, but why mama Africa, my motherhood…” poem a million different ways and therefore qualify themselves as deep. Or the keeping it real Kasi “I would lie to a high court judge for my man” type girls…”Ngicela iAirtime toe”. I mean a real as in a girl who’s comfortable in her own skin and doesn’t need me, my money or my social standing to validate her and isn’t part of any clique or predisposed to some populist fad, trend or societal standard that gives her some false sense of belonging. In other words angifuni umntwana weRasta either, because I do not keep on proving my Africaness credentials every time her brethren and sisters friend’s come through for a visit at the crib.

Part of the problem admittedly is my newly found Dalai Lama disposition. I’m preoccupied with finding someone who could possibly go beyond a mere fling. So just to make sure I was being objective in my criticism I met up with Annaliegh who’s writing on sex, love and money from a female perspective for a quick debate (and yes, she’s black). She argued with passion trying to pin the fault on the brothers and eventually the only thing we could agree on was that at the core of it all there is an obsession for power. Whichever way you look at it the issue is power. The wewe is a source of power.

That God given asset can make a grown man stutter, drool, give up their families and lose their jobs in one stroke of wewe induced stupidity. In fact, men have gone to war over wewe and some have lost wars because of it. For instance, why else would Bafana Bafana need to camp away from their wewe’s before big games? How much unfortunate then for sisters that every high is short-lived and brothers eventually come to their sense once the illusion fades. Indeed most of the time brothers can see pas the faded way before we get hooked.

We sometimes let it slide because the rates could be steep, but nonetheless affordable and never worth it. Most brothers actually continue these relationships in the hope that a sister’s materialism will somehow fade as the relationship gets deeper. The need to exert power in any situation is a direct result of fear and insecurity and if fear is the enemy of love, how then could a relationship consumed with the pursuit of power ever succeed?

I know a very special woman whose innocent search for a sense of security for her son and herself invited a lot of pain and hurt into her life. Hers was not an intentionally self-seeking search for the good life, but she merely thought it is wise to limit her choice of candidate lovers to the relatively well of. She wanted a guy that would complement her ambition she reasoned it in her head. The Beemers and Volvos came and went and each passing one stole a piece of her being.

Then one day there came along the unlikeliest of candidates. A soft-spoken and mild-mannered man who’d clearly been left stranded at the station when the gravy train took off. The special lady was broken in spirit and had already resolved to save the love she had left, for her son and herself. The ending of this fable is rather obviously, but I’ll torture you with the details in any case.

The pauper restored her faith, they both admired each other’s resilience and theirs was a love so blissful it carried them through all adversities. It sounds hard because it was a harsh reality they lived in, but unconditional love will keep you sane through all the madness you know. The fact that they’re rather very wealthy these days by most people’s standards is negligible. The truth is we lose anything and everything we place importance to more than ourselves, including wealth.

There’s nothing sexier than the natural confidence of a sister that’s found herself. And every sister has had that moment. When you woke up feeling so diva it was oozing from every inch of your beautiful self and your cool was as effortless as the breeze. And for some reason, everyone you had seen felt it too.

That morning you woke up feeling whole. I miss that woman and for her, I don’t believe there’s enough money in the world or at least I know I don’t have that kind of money. That sister is priceless because she can turn a brother on for life. Keep it real luv (love).

Writer: Dumisani Maqutu

  • Palesa Motau
    10th Apr 2017

    Oh Dumisani, where does one start? *sigh*
    I’ll keep it simple, you’re absolutely moving in the wrong circles, I know way too many single women who would surpass your expectations. Very many.
    Dating is bloody hard and often when picking a partner we (women) are labelled as gold diggers/ slaves to money. What the is a man’s offering when he comes to me and I have my life so together? I have the money, the cars, the house, I can afford the holidays etc. when I pick someone I need him to be able to maintain himself and merge seamlessly into my lifestyle, surely if we’re going on a holiday and I book the flights the least he could do is pay the accomo?
    ao bakithi, we could unpack this for years and never reach a consensus, but good luck in partner finding – kushubile out there!

    • Palama Mamolao
      12th Apr 2017

      Come back to JC tu! Miss chatting about music to you maan! Have to stalk your TL for music.

      • Palesa Motau
        19th Apr 2017

        Hahahhaha not a chance. Those days are long gone my love bug

        • George Matsheke
          2nd May 2017

          Have you out grown JC?

          • Palesa Motau
            2nd May 2017

            Very much.
            One day I’ll tell you the story of waking up to my personal life splashed all over there 🙂

          • George Matsheke
            2nd May 2017

            Ahhh, I see – thats not nice

  • Sivu
    7th Nov 2017

    *sigh* Dumisani, it’s been 7 months since the publishing of this article. Have you found someone? No? My number is 082…

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