SORRY NOT SORRY, THE POLITICIANS APOLOGY.

I am sorry I haven’t been writing often but if you guys read, shared and paid me for my musings, I would drop out of med school and entertain you full time. That folks, is a classic fart bag apology.
Fart bag: noun (taboo, slang) An individual who hurts you in any way and proceeds to blame you for your pain.

We have all given or heard non-apologies at one point in our lives. I shamefully admit that I have sinned when it comes to the fauxpology department. I have since evolved and learnt better and I want to spread this basic but strangely obscure skill of apologising. Non apologies are the kind of statements that (mis)use the word sorry but do not express responsibilities for faults, purposefully and wilfully miss the point and are most often used to elicit forgiveness without acknowledging wrongdoings.

How to spot an effective fake apology

1.Whenever the word sorry is followed by if, you, you’re, but … I’m sorry if I hurt you, sorry you’re offended, sorry you are upset. The offender is basically apologising for the fact that you cannot handle their douchebaggery and with all due respect could you please adopt the personality of an inanimate object and stop inconveniencing the world with your basic human emotions.

2.The brothers “you are too sensitive you need to lighten up”, “I think you are overreacting” followed closely by their cousin “I didn’t mean it like that”. For a long time I thought being sensitive was the worst trait you could have until I realised being a supreme cunt is the worst trait any human being should have. Don’t let anybody make you feel pathetic for lacking the ability to endure insult gracefully. It not your fault they are terrible people. You do not need to lighten up, those jokes are not funny.

3.I am sorry you feel that feel that way but (insert bullshit reasons why you’re feelings are not valid and how you brought it on yourself). Just because you’re creative enough to come up with noble reasons for your actions does not negate the insensitivity of your actions. You are sorry but you don’t think the situation justifies the level of upset the offended is expressing. Well I am sorry I punched you in the throat but you are a complete and utter turd.

Now that you know. These are the basic components of an authentic adult apology.
1.A clear “I am sorry”
2.An acknowledgement of fault and expression of regret over what happened. Do not ruin it with excuses, its manipulative and annoying.
3.A solution to make it right and avoid making the same mistake again.

Sounds so simple doesn’t it? For the ego it’s not, but you can get there. It’s embarrassing to be called out on your bullshit and we cop out by giving fauxpologies. We should bite the bullet more often and take responsibility for our words and actions. Adulting is hard enough, don’t make it worse by being self-absorbed and insensitive to other people’s feelings.   I prefer if somebody did not apologise to me at all than add insult to injury by giving me BS apologies. It has definitely made the list of things that make my tits ache with palpable rage!

U-HAUL HER!!!

A budding romance is nothing short of exciting. You meet her at Pink Viewing: Open Mic 2 or one of those new LGBTIQ meccas in Nairobi, the likes of Out-In-Kenya Film Festival. Dude the queer scene has evolved. I saw Facebook posts of the Mardi Gras festival complete with a parade and stands and a bunch of queer and queer friendly people.

You exchange a few flirtatious glances…and proceed to eye bang each other all over the room as whatsherface spirals into yet another one of her overbearing neurotic rants. By the end of the night, you have her digits or she has yours. Barely a week into it and you are lagging around bags, a delectable shade of purple under your eyes; from those late night to early morning incessant chats that sync your periods before you even meet!! Who cares? You are happy! Waves of warmth, starting from a tickle in your lady bits building into a visceral feeling of euphoria and delight, are coursing through your body!

Finally the weekend is here! Famed first sleep over…Yaaaazzzzz!!!! You cook for her, she slow dances for you in her purple lacy panty and your oversized smoking hoodie. Purple is your favourite colour, so you fuck 6 ways from Sunday! Or until you are unable to pry away from each other! As you sit there, lost in each other’s gaze, over half eaten pilau Njeri and takeout chicken. Too fattened on endorphins for any realistic or logical reasoning; you both make the decision to join in holy tenancy!

If you have reached this point, don’t feel bad. The odds were against you from the word go. Biology was rooting against you! Both of you were producing an insane amount of oxytocin! A hormone produced when women are breastfeeding, having sex or are in love; a biological encouragement to attach and nest. That coupled with the seemingly bottomless pit that comes with growing up in a society that not only devalues women, it is also homophobic. The urge to merge overpowers even the sanest of women.

Barely a month into it and you have morphed into this “we-beast” with a joint emotional bank account. Your single friends don’t want to be around your nauseating clingy brand of love so they stop inviting you to PAWA 254 events. You don’t even notice because you are having the best sex of your life!  She feels nurtured and you feel safe. All this is stemming from the false sense of security that living together certainly means you are in a stable relationship. This is the haters (real or imagined) bashing and bae-status updates stage.

Give it a couple of more weeks and the love goggles begin to crack. You are emotionally burnt out. It is not cute that she is messy. It is not all Kumbayah that your random exes cum best friends are always popping over without warning and sleeping over whether she is around or not.  No more unicorns and rainbow farts, in its place an overwhelming urge to purge! It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what comes next. No, I am not going to tell you to take it slow, pace yourselves or you only live once so carpe diem!! I know people will still do whatever they think their souls need. It’s only my opinion and I am not Beyoncé, ruler of Venus and all women. There is really no point of this post. 

Bye Felicia!