Reconciling with Myself Part 1

I had a very happy childhood. I grew up in a loving home, with two loving parents and 3 loving sisters. As the last born and only boy, I was showered with unadulterated affection, tons of toys, hours and hours of attention from my family. One could say I had the life of a young prince.

It wasn’t only my family that loved me. The whole street did. I attribute this to my dad’s helpful role in the community and my sisters’ popularity. I don’t remember a lot about my life as a toddler but I know and feel that I was probably the happiest child on Earth.

I started primary school in 1996. I don’t think I cried on the first day of school. No,  I didn’t. I was, well, I am a very curious being. Something about being in school fascinated me. I could read a little bit thanks to my parents getting me Disney books the previous year. One of my sisters had taught me how to.

I knew I was attracted to men the moment I walked into my Grade One class. When I spotted a boy named Matthews. I was a six year old in love. He was in Grade 3, he was what the kids are now calling a ‘yellowbone’. I was smitten. Whenever we’d play house, I’d be the mom and he’d be the dad. Pure bliss!!

I was so confident and not bothered by what anybody thought of me as a kid. I was also very flamboyant. I earned the nickname “Masebotsana” which means ‘beautiful girl’ in SePedi . The prince was morphing into a very confident queen.

I have no doubt that my father knew of my sexuality. It made him uncomfortable that the other kids were calling me “masebotsana”. I remember him asking me twice to tone down my femininity. But he just let me be in the end.


I’ve got a war in my mind.

Yes,  I just shamelessly quoted Lana Del Rey.

It’s funny how something that starts off so beautifully can spiral into the most fucked up situation a bloke can imagine.

I have failed at another relationship. The reasons for the failure are too many and too complex to even attempt to unpack here.

I am like a wounded animal. No matter how much I try to lick the wound and convince myself that this is just another break up, I keep finding myself back to wondering what lead to this, what I did wrong and what he’s getting up to.

I know that I’m not solely to blame for the deterioration and ultimate collapse of my relationship. I use the word “I” because I can only speak for myself and not him. I also don’t want this post to degenerate and become a long rambling about how I was wronged. We both played a part in the destruction. I am now learning to accept my role in all of this.

To say that I’m devastated would be an understatement. I’m shattered. In 6 months, I had already planned our lives together. I played the role of the “cool” partner whenever we’d hang with his friends and family. I did so much because love. I don’t regret any of it.

Do I wish things weren’t so messed up? Of course. I wish I knew what I have done to earn his unending vitriol.

I don’t know what would’ve happened if I didn’t have my friends and acquaintances. They’ve been a constant source of love (tough or otherwise), strength and wisdom (anybody who tells me to get under a new man is clearly very wise!!).

I am hurt, but I’m surviving. I’m getting the help I need (just wish these damn pills didn’t mess with my libido) and all the love and support from family and friends (my mom is doing the most 😍).

I obviously built a ship to wreck. It crashed into the rocks and now, it’s time I gave up on the sea. Also, why am I using maritime metaphors?

Good night.