I pity the next fool that accuses me of not having a man in my life. I use "accuses” because I have to defend myself like a criminal. I’m all out of fake smiles and explanations for people who keep asking me why they don’t see a ring on my finger or if I’m planning to have a child in this lifetime.

Accusers beware that I’m now out for blood. So the next time you’re tempted to ask me: "When is your wedding? Aren’t you getting old?” I highly suggest that you first evaluate your love life. If it’s wanting and I know it, I suggest that you keep your thoughts to yourself or prepare for some very harsh truths. 

If you, like my friend Clare Umwari, have turned into FBI, CIA and Rwanda National Police all at once, girl please just keep mum. Save us both from the hair pulling that is likely to occur when I give you a piece of my mind. You live for the days when he goes to the bathroom and leaves his phone unlocked. All you need is five minutes to scroll through all his social media accounts, call log and text messages. You identify possible rivals, store their numbers and schedule them for a verbal showdown. If that’s what it means to love and keep a man, I will take a rain check on relationships and love, thank you very much.

Now there’s this middle-aged aunt of mine who snatched another woman’s husband a few years ago. It was sad for the other woman of course but at least our poor old grandmother could finally stop dragging her bent back to church on Friday nights. The Lord delivered her daughter from the witchcraft that was impeding her marriage. So maybe my aunt is right. I do need to get married now so that I can save my mother some trouble...or at least before other people’s husbands start becoming options.

The first time your boyfriend slapped you, it was completely your fault. He trusted you with his car for a week but it came back scratched after you narrowly survived a head-on collision. You could have died but who cares? You spoilt his new car! 

Well, since then he has given you regular doses of slaps but at least he apologises. If I’m going to be with someone who will occasionally rearrange my face, I need some time to strengthen my facial muscles for the task.

Your boyfriend is back in your life again. This is the umpteenth time he has walked away and come back. Every time he leaves, I spend a lot of energy consoling you. To be honest it is quite exhausting. You’re a loud crier.

And how can one human being produce so many tears?! Anyway, now that he’s back, you’re free to sideline me again. I’m back to being poor Bella who doesn’t have a man.

But just so you know, I look forward to the day when you say to me: "You don’t have a man. You can’t possibly understand.” Our friendship might not survive when I reply, "At least I’m not a doormat.”