Women shall be my death

Diary,

I don’t know why I’m surprised at the ills that fate deals me at the hands of the fair sex. In a way, I believe women have always had a huge part to play in my life.

For starters, I was born by one woman and delivered by another. In that respect, you see, a woman held me upside down and delivered the first slap to my bottom mere minutes after I was born. Then another woman cradled me to her bosom and gave me a breast. And that’s how it’s been all through my life. Love and hate in equal portions.

The first time anyone truly turned me down, I was in Class 3. She was in Class 4. I told her I loved her, she beat the bejesus out of me. I had to explain a black eye to the woman who lived with me, who loved me no matter what. When she heard I was in a fight with a girl, she whooped me just in case I’d forgotten my manners, then she applied salve to my wounds and fed me a large bowl of rice.

I was in high school when first I spent a night in a police cell. No, I didn’t get in a fight or burn the dormitory or challenge my math teacher to a duel (The last one happened, but good luck intervened and I was only suspended for two weeks). I found myself in a cold police station cell because I met a girl during the drama festival. We wrote to and fro over the term and after the next holiday, both of us thought it a good idea that I should pay her a visit at her school.

But as it so often happens, most people not in on a grand plan tend not to fathom its intricacies, and the headmistress in my friend’s school was one of them. Once she caught me in the dormitory making a move on one of her students, she called the police.

And not so long ago, the first person to point a gun at me was a woman. A woman I loved who happened to be a cop in love with me, and she wished to claim her stake in me the only way she knew how. I escaped that bullet, but God knows how many more I have coming.

Well, I’ve got to go. I have a date. With a woman.