Women Get Friend- Zoned Too

You had me right. Most of the time we tend to think that only women are the ones who decide whether the guy is hit it material, relationship material or the dreaded zone that all guys tend to hate, The friends zone!*inserts shudders*. In my 20 something years of existence in this world, I’ve seen a lot of things. And sadly I’ve been friend-zoned a couple of times. There, I’ve finally admitted it! Pheuwx! Feels good to finally have that out of my system! Well as a woman it hurts at times, we don’t dare admit it but we do get ticked off when we are relegated to the friend’s zone. It’s bad for our egos. Yes we do have egos as well and love feeding on compliments we get, not being one of the boys. So I sat down, pondered on what made me end up in the friend’s zone with one guy who I had put in the he can get it zone 6 months ago. Yeah 6 months later I still can’t get over the fact that I had been friend-zoned, I mean I ooze awesomeness! And no, I’m not being vain. Enough rambling let’s get down to business:

•Tomboy-ish traits. I think I was thrown into the friend’s zone because of this. Not that I walk around in jeans, Tim boots or sneakers. Far from it, I think I only own 2 pairs of sneakers and this is because I can’t jog in heels. Unless I knew a guy in a purple suit, haha get it? No? Ok then, moving along swiftly, I hate soap operas, Westlife and such shitty girly music and tend to love HipHop as much as Neo Soul and Jazz still top my list. But I guess when we were kickin it in Mr. Put me on the friend’s zone house and arguing about who was the illest rapper between Twista, Krayzie Bone and Busta Rhymes back in the day made him assume he was talking to one of his boys. Vionna, you should have shut your mouth.

•Laid Back Chic “ You’re so easy to talk to and laid back, you don’t have mad drama or act crazy like some women do.” As he said this I was beaming from ear to ear when he dropped the I like hanging out with you. We can just chill and talk. The fake smile I had as I stabbed his back over and over in my head when he said that.

•You Keep It Real- Dear men, I don’t get it when you say this. So fine, I might jokingly say that woman is hot when she passes or she has a nice ass, you compliment me for keeping it real and not hating then I’m still relegated to the friends zone? How in the name of zones is that possible? You tell me I’m awesome for hating on weaves, keeping it real then start flirting with that friend of mine who owns more weaves than a rancher with a horse stable!

•Flirts Without Benefits- So we would occasionally flirt, to him it was just flirting but sometimes he would send mixed signals and the limbo feeling not knowing if we are still “boys” or more than that gets a tad annoying. When he treats you like his down ass chic! And they say us women are complicated!

•One Of The Boys- And this just means that. One of the boys, I should have gotten the hint when I was introduced to the boys as just Vionna. He wouldn’t mind his boys flirting with me, we’d meet up to watch a football game together. Banter Arsenal together (sigh! Good times those were)But I should have pretended to be the I can’t stand Rugby, football kinda girls.

I could go on and on, but let me stop there. This guy more than hurt my ego if I’m still annoyed about it six months later. I mean who friends zones me, I should be the one friend zoning guys! But sadly ladies, we get friend-zoned too, whether we like it or not. Stop pretending you haven’t been. Yeah I see you! I finally accepted and knew the hurt men go through when we friend zone them, but that doesn’t mean some of the guys in my friends zone’s list will be promoted to he can get it zone. Enjoy the zones ladies, and don’t deny this has never happened to you once in your life. No he’s not gay, we can’t have them all 😉

Peace and Blessings, Vionna

A little too late

It’s always a little bit too late when we realize something or when we lose someone and we never got to mend a broken friendship and will never get a chance to, because they died too soon. As I write this, a friend of mine is lying cold in a morgue thanks to the animal of a man she claimed to love. The man who used her as his punching bag, verbally abused her and made her feel as if she was nothing. I wrote about her sometime in May last year. A blog post entitled Words I said https://vionnaswatching.wordpress.com/2011/05/17/words-i-said/ she was being verbally abused at the time and the guy really made her believe that she was nothing more than his punching bag. We had a fallout with her sometime late last year. See, the last time, she was beaten up real bad we thought she finally came to her senses and realized it was time for her to leave before things got out of hand. Well, a few weeks later after that, I bumped into her hand in hand with that monster. I can’t and I wont call him a man because he’s not worthy to be called that. He’s a coward who should have picked on someone his own size, not a woman whom he knew won’t fight him back. So she called me after we met and told me he had really changed and everything was well. We had an argument after that and I remember the last words I told her that day was, “the next time, you will come back in a casket if you think such a monster can change.” Little did I know those words would come true yesterday. We stopped talking after that incident, sometimes I would be tempted to call her up, but something inside me always vexed me to a point I couldn’t pick up the phone and talk to her. I always felt like shaking her back to reality. I wish I did make that call. But I know there’s nothing I would have done to prevent what happened. She made her choices in life, she decided she wanted to stay with him, and unfortunately the choices she made cost her, her life. When her sister called me yesterday, I knew immediately something was wrong. She always used to call me when my friend was in really bad shape and couldn’t even talk on the phone. She was in tears as she tried to tell me what happened. Her sister came back home late that night, and by late I mean 7pm due to traffic at the ferry(anyone who uses ferries to cross to the other side knows how crazy traffic gets)so the monster left, went drinking came back started beating her up, she was trying to run out of the house, when he flung her from the stairs, fell and fractured her skull. That was the end of her troubled love life.

I was angry, shocked and hurt at the same time when I heard the news. Still trying to come to terms with it, but it’s a bit hard to fathom her death at the moment. Ladies, one should never be a statistic. I never thought one of my friends would be one. When a guy as much as slaps you, those are warning signs that warn you of the danger ahead if you continue down that path of making excuses for him. A man who verbally abuses you, will make you feel worthless and in turn start believing you deserve what you get. Don’t lead yourself to believe that it really doesn’t hurt you, or believe that you only hurt yourself. Don’t believe every time he says he’s sorry or be ashamed to tell someone you need help. I got this quote yesterday from Christopher Robin to Pooh Bear:” Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you think, and smarter than you think.” Get out of that relationship before it’s a little bit too late.

Peace and Blessings, Vionna

Phenomenal Women

So I haven’t been blogging for a while. A lot has been going on, but I thought it would be appropriate to post this wonderful poem by Maya Angelou that always inspires me. Today being International Womens Day, I just want to wish all the wonderful women out there, mothers, daughters, sisters, friends you truly are phenomenal women and make the world a better place. Happy Women’s day ladies

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Peace and blessings always, Vionna

Hair Raising Experience

Painkillers. Check! Phone battery full to listen to music and tweet the pain away. Check! Mentally and physically prepared. Check! Well, you might be wondering what I’m going on and on about ,aye? It’s the torture every woman who braids her hair goes through most of the time. Getting one’s hair did is really not a fun experience and braiding takes a whole lot of time, and if you are not the patient type like me, you prefer to have your hair braided in one of those markets that do it in a record three hours tops. I will stop yapping much and help you picture the scenario.

Scene 1: Alights from the stage at Kenyatta Market with my big afro and suddenly from nowhere a battalion of women bombard me each one calling me, aunty, mrembo and the guilt breaker mtoto wangu.
Me:”Hapana niko sawa sitaki kushukwa” (for my foreign readers it means, no I’m ok I don’t want my hair braided)
Women’s Army:“ Tutafanya kazi smart utakuwa mrembo sana. Sema tu uko na pesa ngapi hatuwezi kosana bei.” (ok I’m really tired of translating now, but it means the women then try to convince me saying how they’ll work wonders to my hair and I should not worry about the price we will come to some sort agreement)

Pretends to make a phone call while walking so fast like a killer with a saw is behind me waiting to cut me up. They finally get the hint and leave me alone. Sighs in relief, I can finally concentrate on who I was going to visit in hospital without thinking I’m about to be hijacked and held hostage with combs and braids on my afro. Poor lil afro all traumatized now.

Scene 2: Decides to finally get my hair braided and wakes up early on a Saturday to go to a different hair braiding market. Remembered to take my painkillers beforehand for the pain that I was about to go through. Alights at the Umoja Market Stage and before I can even blink, one woman jumps in fronts of me (tempted to show her my Ninja moves) another one grabs my hand all of them calling me aunty (ok why the hell do they insist on that name) manages to yank away from their grip and focus on who I was sent to get my hair did. I don’t know how she looks like, her phone is not going through and my selective amnesia forgot which stall no. she owns. Thank God for small mercies, I recognize that voice shouting; Aunty! Aunty! Kuja tukushuke. I ask her if she’s*censored* she says yes and I finally feel relieved as the women staring at my afro like they are lions and were just about to pounce on this powerless antelope(my afro not me)And the drama unfolds:

Miss Afro:” Nimetumwa na nani, kushukwa hapa since mlimshuka vizuri” (I’ve been sent by so and so to get my hair braided since you did her hair so well)
Braiding Lady:“Karibu sana, unataka za ngapi? Kuna za 5,6,7,8 na thao sema ile size umependa.”(wait am I choosing the braids I want as if I’m shopping for a dress? Oh my bad! For those who don’t understand Swahili, braiding lady asks me which size of braids I want and for how much since they come in different prices)
Miss Afro:“Nataka za 8. Na niko na haraka kidogo, kama mnaeza harakisha itakuwa vizuri.” (I’m in a hurry so if you can do a quick job, I would appreciate) Here I am thinking to myself that she is the one doing my hair, apparently she’s like an apprentice and her job is to scout for interns to do her work for her while she does a touch and go on your hair while gossiping.
I sit outside my braids snatched away from me, a towel thrown on my lap with braids smeared in Vaseline and I’m asked to divide for another braiding lady. Drat! There goes my tweeting away, and I can’t listen to music either because of the loud annoying station that acts like they have a 4gb flash disk worth of music also known as Kiss 100 on full blast. “Shoot me now!”I mutter to myself. I’m given an old Parent’s magazine that should be archived, to read. Finally braiding lady outsources two other braiding ladies and they are on top of my head, gossiping while forgetting it’s your hair they are pulling when they start hi-5ing each other. Suddenly, they get hungry and start eating chapatis on top of your head(this women can eat!)they then call for help to help with the finishing. Now I have four women on top of my head! Wait, scratch that, I have two women and four thighs on my face. You see, when it comes to twisting, the quickest way to finish them is by one woman applying Vaseline on her thighs, and rolling the braids on it. Mind you, it’s your hair being pulled like that to be able to reach one’s thigh. The braiding lady then demands;”Panua miguu” Ok, this now starts sounding like I’m auditioning for a softcore porn movie! My legs are spread in such a way her body can fit, and one of the finishers thigh can be up in my face, with a stench from her vajayjay that makes you want to pass out. There’s always a welding shop nearby, and the noise starts driving you insane, the gossiping and laughing on top of your head, the pulling and forced to do some Kama Sutra flexing muscles stunts is just too much. Once done in a record 3 hours, they pull your hair back, and dab a hot towel on your scalp. You leave there with your eyes looking all Chinese from the pulling, your hairline slowly fading and you want to kill someone.
Braiding Lady:Finally she comes back just to take the cash and says;” Na uko smart, utarudi lini tena nikushuke?”
Miss Afro now tightly braided: “I’ll call you.” As I leave there in so much pain and about to overdose on painkillers, vowing never to braid my hair again. Four weeks later, phones braiding lady again to make an appointment.

Peace and blessings always, Vionna.

Breakups to Makeups

First of all, I would like to wish all you bloggers and readers alike a Happy 2012 as you struggle to make resolutions that you know by mid Feb you will have completely forgotten about! Now that we have that out-of-the-way, let me whine about the number one resolution that a majority of ladies (me included) make every New Year: Leaving all the baggage behind which mostly involves a man. Breaking up with that guy whose drama you don’t want to carry over come 2012. New Year, new things becomes the mantra you chant most of January. I like to call it the five stages of breakups to makeups, since mostly it starts somewhere in November when you realize the year is almost coming to an end and the person you are dating seems to have your feelings stuck somewhere in limbo, and you can’t start a new year going through an emotional rollercoaster again. Just for the sake, let’s just say a friend of mine went through these five stages:-)

1. Self Pity: All your friends seem to be settling down, getting married and you’re still stuck in a limbo. You start feeling sorry for yourself, thoughts that maybe true love doesn’t exist for you start creeping in. Attending weddings become such a bore for you. The game plan you had when you were 20 to be married and settled down by a certain age starts taunting you. Comfort eating becomes your new hobby in the hopes that a certain someone will get his act together.

2. Making Excuses: You make sure all your friends know how much you love your just dating without marriage in view life. You can travel go on holidays the way you want without having to consult someone or apply for a visa (once you’re married) to go for some random road trips in Naivasha or Mombasa. You seem to enjoy a carefree life of sorts.

3. Denial: It’s not you. He will change, get his act right and finally pop the question. He just needs time to see where he wants to be (Donelle Jones I blame you for this) Denial clearly is a river in Egypt said with a Jamaican accent, unless you accept it and stop living in a bubble.

4. Relapse: December is here. You managed to finally let Mr. Limbo go in November when it dawned on you the year is finally ending and you need change. Then one random night you get lonely, start missing him and find yourself riding that emotional rollercoaster again (pun intended)

5. Waking up and Smelling the coffee: After the relapse, something snaps. You realize things will never change. You will be stuck in limbo for the rest of the year that’s about to start if you keep hoping and waiting for him to make up his mind. So that’s when you start writing down your resolutions. No more carrying emotional baggage come 2012. New Year, new things. You bury that chapter in 2011 and hope to start a new book come 2012.

So those are the 5 stages that most of the time runs through a girl’s mind when she decides to let go and come up with New Year’s resolutions that she hopes she will stick to. Chances are, by Feb, she would be back to the breakups to makeups yoyo or hopefully the coffee she woke up and smelled was really strong and knocked some sense into her that will make her stick to her resolutions.

PS: This is not a true story. Any relations to the blogger are purely coincidental. No feelings were hurt during the writing of this blog post:-)

Peace and Blessings Always, and a Happy 2012 to you all, Vionna.

Dear 2011 Perks and Flaws

As the year draws to an end, I still can’t quite come to terms with it. I mean it was just January the other day and now the month of debauchery, summer love, acting silly and such like things also known as December is here upon us. Since I’m in my happy place, Mombasa and I haven’t blogged in quite a while for losing my mojo reasons, I thought I would do one last post for the dramatic year that was 2011 and write her a letter.

Dear January, you started off so well, I thought for once we had quite a good thing going on, only for you to turn around and do what you do best. It wasn’t enough that I was recovering from the 2010 December debauchery with an empty wallet that now had cobwebs, you just had to add insult to injury and play the prank you played on me. But you taught me a lesson, I had made my bed with silly mistakes, I had to sleep on it and pay for the consequences.

Along came your sister February, you were not as harsh as your big sister January. We got along just fine like Sonko and stupidity. You came up with solutions that your sister Jan had caused and finally I could smile again. The one thing that you made me realize was that I wasn’t perfect. I made mistakes, I paid for them dearly and I either had to wallow in self-pity, pick myself up or move on.

March, April and May the three brothers that had my back. You really came through for me just when I thought all hope was lost. We had some fun times, we went out on holiday, rejuvenated and got back on track and left the past where it needed to remain. You taught me everything always works out in the end, it’s the middle that’s always the hardest to get through but once I did all was well.

My favorite twins June and July. This time around you were so full of surprises. You opened up two new chapters in my life that brought me so much joy and you managed to take something away from me that once brought happiness in my life. So bittersweet you were, but what I picked from you two, life is precious, I learned to forgive more, value the loved ones in my life and live each day without regrets.

August, the month of love you turned out to be, forget February you had it going on with weddings and romances I couldn’t keep up with you. Thank you for the eat, pray, love endeavor I went through with you. It was life changing. I became a better person thanks to you.

September, the black sheep of the year. Like Greenday, I just wanted to wake up when your month was up. You really lived up to your black sheep title. But lessons learned from August really came in handy while dealing with you. You were not so bad though, I learned something from you, losers are just afraid of doing what winners do, and I’m no loser!

October and November, you two turned out to be so witty, thanks for the gifts of wisdom you showed me, and teaching me to have a positive attitude regardless of trying situations around me.

December, the month that I turned sixteen again. The last born month that’s always so spoilt, bratty and fun. Well this time around, no more debauchery. You had to remind me that age has finally caught up with me, so I will behave and see what your firstborn sister January has in store for me.
Sincerely,
Vionna

PS: Next year please don’t snatch away so many people from us. Steve Jobs, Wangari Maathai, Heavy D, and all other fallen soldiers (well apart from the dictators you pulled a Mortein doom on)will be dearly missed.
Happy Holidays, bloggers and readers alike!
Peace and Blessings always, Vionna