Let’s be completely honest: my life has been incredibly boring lately.

So when I saw a flyer for a speed-dating event happening in Kigali this July, my brain didn’t think about romance, wedding bells, or finding "the one."

No. My brain immediately went to a much higher, more spiritual calling:

1. I want to psychoanalyze 20 different men in a single evening. (This is completely normal behavior, please argue with your mom, not me).

2. I desperately need premium content for this Substack.

3. I want to watch the sheer drama of someone using a "steal or swap" card in real-time.

4. At the very least, I need a wild story to drop into the group chat.

If you’ve ever watched those chaotic YouTube shows—like Chunks and Filly, The Button, or those massive 50-person dating roulettes—you know exactly the kind of energy I’m looking for. Pure, unadulterated entertainment.

I was ready to tap my MoMo PIN and pay the entrance fee within three seconds.

But then, the classic Kigali Hesitation kicked in.

I asked a few friends if they were down, and the response was an immediate, unified: “I mean, yeah, it sounds fun... but what if nobody shows up? What if it’s awkward? What if people actually fall in love? I’m scared to put myself out there.”

And that is when I realized we have an epidemic in this city.

Why is Kigali so stiff? Why are we all so terrified of just having fun? Urrgggggh!!!

We will happily sit in the same three lounges every weekend, staring at our phones, lurking on the same Instagram stories, and complaining that the dating scene is exhausting.

But the moment a fast-paced social experiment drops, everyone panics about protecting their aura(which is in the negative for arsenal fans)

Let me let you in on a secret: you cannot lose your aura in 7 minutes. If a conversation is a complete disaster, a buzzer literally sounds and you are legally rescued. It’s conversational roulette. you fold and move to the next chair.

FAQ: Can I come alone? Absolutely. The entire point of the 7-minute rotation and an MC is that you don't need a wingman. It's designed to be zero-awkwardness. Just bring your lip gloss ladies and men, bring your sunglasses, we don’t want you blinded by the sheer beauty of the ladies in attendance.

So, I’m putting myself out there. Not because I’m desperate, but because I refuse to let summer be boring. If you show up, you might find a spark. If you don’t find a spark, you will definitely leave with a ridiculous story for your friends. Worst-case scenario? a front-row seat to the drama.

Stop being stiff. Unclench your butt, close your WhatsApp group chat, and come live a little.

And importantly, STOP TEXTING THAT EVIL EX!!!!

I don't wear makeup at work because to apply it takes my precious time, and most of the day is spent sweating while running after children, which just ends up looking ugly anyway. (And no, I don't really consider lip gloss and blush to be "makeup”. Argue with a wall). 

Yep, that’s my life as a nursery assistant teacher.

But today, I actually put on makeup.

Why? Because yesterday, one of the kids walked right up to me holding the staff picture we put on the classroom doors. This picture below.

She pointed at it and said, "Ms Esther, you changed."

I asked her, "Why, kid?"

She brought the picture closer, looked at it, and back at me: "Here you were beautiful."

*Cue the sound of glass shattering*. Why? Why? (In Korean)! What do you mean, I WAS beautiful?!

Today, she decided to follow it up by mentioning, "Nice hair, Ms Esther."

No. We both know this isn't about the hair. 

This little girl looked at me and essentially told me I used to be pretty. It's about my actual face, a face crafted by a long line of beautiful ancestors who were completely convinced the earth was flat.

I know she knows she’s engaging in psychological warfare. I know she knows what she’s doing, but I can’t prove it. 

Note: She  is four years old.

Later on, there was another student still left in the classroom because his parents were running late.

Trying to tease him and maybe complain about his presence a little, I walked up to him. 

Before you judge, I'm not a masochist or a sadist.

I just hate happiness; I don't love pain. Those are two different things.

Grinning from ear to ear like a hyena finding its prey, I casually asked, "Brian, you are still here??" 

My undertone was pure: Why are you still trapped suffering in the school air?

Brian looked right back up at me, matching my energy with an equally wide grin, and replied, "You are also still here, Ms. Esther."

My grin immediately disappeared.

Thanks, Brian, for reminding me that I am an absolute slave to the 9-to-5 corporate nonsense.

Note: Why do we submit to the western clock can’t  have a 10 -3 job? To decolonise completely, ofcourse!!

 At least his parents are going to pick him up in the comfort of a car, while I am left to suffer on a Moto in the cold night for 45 minutes on the way to Bugesera.

Note: I should have accepted that sugar daddy who wanted to always pay for my cab but my pride is too big for common sense😃

Though, speaking of the bike, another student already saw me riding it the other day and directly asked me why I don't have a car.

I just stared at him.

And there was this one other time when I was trying to be playful with one of the kids, I walked behind her and closed her eyes.

Me, giggling childishly: Guess who is this???

Her, calm as possible: Ms Esther.

I was dumbfounded, ofcourse: How did you guess it was me???

Her looking me straight dead in the eyes: Because of your FAKE nails.

Not even plastic nails but FAKE nails.

Mind you, all the other teachers were laughing as if they don’t get roasted on a daily basis too.

Another time, a kid told me that he loves superman because he is strong.

I was like ‘Hush child, you don’t know what you are talking about I am the strongest person alive, do you see these *shows my flaps* muscles?’

‘Even stronger than my dad?’ He asked.

‘Of course’

The next day the kid brought his dad and he was amused ‘So you can beat me?’

Note: He was a huge man and I am 5’2.

And I love sharing this on social media because people think working with kids is pee, rainbow, tears, and colouring, no, loves, it’s a psychological battle with little kids.

Note: I don't get paid enough to be legally bullied by people who still need help opening a packet of biscuits.

Even though they destroy your self esteem, they also build it because they tell you when you look beautiful and it’s true, some of my students bring some flowers to put in my braids if they think it looks nice. They tell you, you smell nice if you do. They hug you occasionally if you seem down or casually offer to build you a mansion.

Note: They can’t even tie their shoelaces.

We are not literally opps.

Overall, they are better at serenading than men without dimples.

Note: If you want my usual funny articles, skip this one, today I am angry and sad.

I was 16 when I was on a video call with my Mexican friend when she asked me why I shaved my hair, I said it’s because of my school and she asked why does my school shave my hair and honestly I couldn’t find an answer.

I should have answered that shaving girls head in African school is classism and colonialism.

Classism

Let’s  see, all the public school enforce head shaving policies but private schools don't which make a huge distinction. She has money to afford the privilege to own hair but you don't.

You don't deserve to feel beautiful.

Colonialism (Anti-blackness)

Do you know how many times I have heard from school administrators telling me that my hair is dirty or my schoolmate that? As if they  didn't turn around and let non-black or biracial kids have hair?

Can someone explain what that means? I really don't get it because one of the administrators said that the non-black people think shaving makes girls seem masculine/gay but apparently it’s acceptable for Black girls to look masculine?

 (No shade to androgynous people) 

And that our hair was dirty while theirs is clean? Our hair is Literally not dirty. The non-black people hair literally get lice and greasy!!

(No shade to them just trying to prove a point)

And again  this speaks to African girls they can feel pretty but you can't.

Note

The Military/Prison-like Control: Colonial authorities introduced head-shaving in schools, prisons, and barracks to strip away individuality and enforce absolute obedience. It was a tool to make people easier to manage and control.

The "Assimilation" Tactic: By cutting off traditional African hair, colonial education systems aimed to sever a child’s connection to their cultural identity and pride, making them more "malleable" to Western assimilation.

If I counted the number of times, I held back tears every single time they cut my hair, I would pray wishing it to be the last time, I have never felt pretty until I finished  highschool and got hair.

And again, I feel an overwhelming sadness whenever I see girl student’s walking in the street with shaved hair because I realise it’s going to go on for a long time!

Odd excuses

There is another excuse that taking care of our afro hair may reduce your smartness or take your time instead of studying and revising.

Ladies and gentlemen let's analyze the special case of the smartest girls in the entire country, drum roll please!!

GASHORA GIRLS school, they have hair!!!.......

The administrators said it’s AI apparently.

Or it’s just a glitch in the matrix.

Another person (who clearly went to study to help replenish his brain cells faster) told me that shaving hair of young girls helps men identify minors and avoid them, I was appalled because since when has baldness ever stopped pedophiles, please tell explain to me like I am five years old.

I wish someone could have seen the joy the girls had when there was a rumour in 2023 that we were allowed to have hair by the ministry, It was joyous and sad at the same time.

Because why are we celebrating getting to have hair? 

The right to have hair?

But don’t worry, you racist person reading this, the government ended our dreams by saying it was a rumour and that they would provide better sharp new hair trimmers.

Do you know who else can't have hair?

Cancer patients.

Alopecia patients.

 I mean no disrespect but imagine you can’t have hair and they are literally nations forcing kids to shave their hair for 16 years?

So why are you stripping us of our beauty?

I need someone who is in charge of our school system to come in front me and clearly explain why we are still submitting to this colonialism and blantant classism?

If you know them,please tell them to answer me directly.

Our ancestors celebrated hair; 

It gave them identity 

It gave them status. 

We are in 21 century for whatever sake!!!

And it is never going to change, is it?

I am not sorry that I am going to phrase it this way,

But this is not discipline and cleanliness.

This is a humiliation ritual.

I am a retired man hater.

Not because I experienced some grand emotional transformation. Not because a man healed my inner child. No. It’s because hating men takes too much energy and devotion, and I have a homeboy who occasionally buys me chocolate and pineapple pizza. (He is trying to bribe me to pass him my friend’s number.) Regardless of the original nature of his intention, I like the chocolate, so I was convinced that not all men are bad, thus: retired man hater.

I know I folded easily and let down the womanhood, but the chocolates are Everyday brand. Let’s be reasonable here.

And let’s be honest and look at it from this perspective: some men are entertaining. Except misogynists, rapists, pedophiles, Chelsea fans, and Andrew Tate followers. Their bullshit is entertaining.

Like, why are you mansplaining period cramps to me, sir?

But I am speaking for the man haters, and I will, always.

Another thing I have to apologise to the ladies for: I recently bought Dior Sauvage perfume. I am really sorry that I am walking around smelling like your trauma, namely the situationship that traumatised you.

Sorry for the rant, but that’s what you are here for. *Wink wink*

Some men don’t see a woman who hates them as a warning sign; they see her as a challenge. It’s a classic psychological savior complex. They think, “She doesn’t hate men, she just hasn’t met a real one yet. I can fix her.”

She don’t want to be fixed.

She want to get worse.

She want to be a hazard.

It reminds me of that brilliant line from Fleabag:

“Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny… We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives. Men don’t. They have to seek it out.”

And that is the absolute core of the delusion.

Some men are so desperate to experience some form of emotional depth that they will actively seek out a woman who dislikes them, mistaking her boundaries for a romantic challenge.

Which makes me want to quote Taylor swift

“Boys only like love when it’s torture.”

I utterly despise the fact that the “man hater” title was meant to keep men away from women, but now, because of this stupid propaganda, it is setting targets on their backs.

I completely blame dark romance writers.

Especially whoever wrote Hunting Adeline. If I catch you H. D. Carlton, because what the fuck was that? A man literally stalking a girl and raping her, and she falls in love? What in the absurdity was that???

And 365 Days, because that showed some men that they can literally hunt us and that we enjoy it.

We don’t!!!!!!!

And I know the dark romance warriors will come for me saying that I don’t understand the dark romance concept. In fact, I understand it very well, because dark is your eyes if that dark man punches you in your dark future.

Note: I am writing a dark romance, but it won’t be cliché, I promise. I swear on my precious tooth gap. The characters are self-aware and will seek therapy.

These type of men will try to disarm you, psychoanalyse you, try to enter your psyche, and ask you, to know how they can get the credit of ‘I am the one who turned that rabbid man hater into a lover’ and start by saying “Tell me your darkest secret.”

Sir, my darkest secret is that I am literally talking to your ugly ass. Entertaining you voluntarily. I wish no one ever finds out, especially my friends.

And some men who specifically seek out man haters usually have two types of intentions: either to humble you or to tame you.

If you have that intention with me, let me hold your brainless head gently when I say this: I will set my life goals to making you miserable.

I am a vengeful spirit.

Try Jesus, not me.

Before the astrology girls get excited, all this has nothing to do with me being a Scorpio. We don’t believe in zodiac in this house.

God created many women who enjoy romance naturally. Just find them,

Find happiness,

Get married,

Get healed,

And leave our man haters alone, please.

It’s really not that deep that someone might not need a man in her life to function and it’s okay, she doesn’t need but there is another girl who really needs you sir.

Honestly, all this energy used to chase man haters could be channelled into finding a real strong painkiller for period cramps. It would reduce the number of man haters in the world.

And as we have established in my last Substack that men with dimples and nice smiles are innocent from all the allegations. They can tame *coughs* me *coughs*I meant some man haters.

And don’t worry, ladies, I didn’t give my homeboy my friend’s number. I would never do such a thing, so the chocolates are still coming. In fact, I am eating one right now.

This is what happens when capitalism enters activism.

As I have mentioned in my last Substack, I am basically a sucker for dimples, and the guy had them. And if you studied in the same school with me, you know him.

That’s right, the whole school knew, arrgh.

And once I knew that the whole school knew, I was embarrassed because I thought I was subtle, and I assumed people would ship us even though we were having a normal conversation. I felt so awkward that I started avoiding him subtly. Yeah, my aura is still in the negatives.

Do you all understand how awkward and embarrassing that situation was?

Now imagine girls who used to faint in high school and whose only cure was to call for their crush. I would literally die or change my name and go live with my deaf grandpa in Kirehe, who thinks I am his dead daughter (my aunt).

First of all, it was attention-seeking mixed with real feelings. Couldn’t you subtly walk up to your crush and declare your undying love? (Don’t do it though; if you do, don’t date him, ladies, IFYKYK.) But no, your silly, hormones-driven ass decides to make a point by fainting on me, thus giving me the responsibility to carry you.

Note: I am lying. My friends are man-haters and would do no such thing like fainting for a man, except Neza, who faints because… remind me again, Neza? Oh right, asthma.

Now, to us bystanders, we were not innocent either, because we were active participants more than the people it was actually happening to: the ones who shouted and catcalled when you were standing with your crush, the ones who put delusions in your head, the ones who shipped you, the ones who circulated the rumor, the ones who called and carried you when you fainted, and the nurse who was convinced it was a real medical condition.

Especially the nurse, like what in the actual fuck were they thinking diagnosing that? Like, “Oh, you are lovestruck, let’s call your crush.” No, nurse, your actual line was: “Grow the fuck up,” or feed her, because I feel like most of them were just malnourished (boarding life), hormonal, or driven insane by 12 subjects (REB, I will come for you next).

The friends weren’t exactly helpful because they turned into sick bastards who derived happiness and entertainment from your midlife crisis—namely crush (it felt like one)—because those sick idiots would scream when your crush appeared, force interactions (seriously, girl, you know yourself, I love you but I will kill you for those moments), acting like cheap producers of Love Island.

Note: The intellectual prowess high school kids show while dissecting crushes or relationships is actually admirable; if it were used to solve crimes, the world would probably be a better place.

But I get why the crushes were so intense: we were bored due to the isolation in boarding schools, so attraction felt like peak entertainment for us. We dramatized it to make it last longer for our amusement, and dare I say high school was hell but not boring.

The only dramatic news I receive right now is: “You have used 100% of your 2GB daily cap, buy a Booster bundle…” from MTN.

And for boys who were cough ahem the God-sent cure, how did you feel, and what did you do to cure our frail girls?

Bye.

1.

Sliding in a DM with a ‘Hi, hru?’ not even the full How are you?

You are already out of the game!!!! Because, sir I am a teacher, I listen and say “hi, how are you?” a thousand times a day from toddlers who think I am an Astronaut, maybe it will convince other girls (Ladies, I hope it doesn’t)

Even the HR email start better (Not the we regret to inform you tho)

Do you at least have a face card to accompany the plain boring hi, No?! urgh!!

Girl math

Plain text + plain face = strike against romance

Hot text +plain face=interesting

Plain text+ Hot face= excusable

Hot text+Hot face= giggling and kicking feet

2.

Next why are we making literally a hundred eye contacts and you are not making a move, sir? Do you want me to flutter lashes bridgeton style? last time, I tried with fake lashes I flew to Canada because these men are oblivious or lack courage.

3.

The “I know you somewhere…” nigga please!

You only know me in your wet dreams and if you really do (don’t say on social media) that’s good but if not, you are clowning yourself.

4.

Replying to a freaky late text reply at 9 am after a crazy conversation at 1am , sir, I am a changed woman in the morning you don’t expect me to be same in the morning, that version of me (the let’s say it for the plot version) exist between 11pm and insomnia maniac, She is in witness protection from herself.

The vibe died in photosynthesis.

In daylight,

I have morals.

I have responsibilities.

I have shame.

5.

Refusing to make eye contact during a conversation, sir I don’t bite and I am not ugly, look at me because I am supposed to be the shy one! I won’t say much about this one because it’s sensitive topic to me.

6.

Always sending reeels without introducing yourself is a bold strategy but stupid nevertheless.

No context. No explanation.

Sir, I don’t even like your algorithm, it’s cringe and not funny, I am not your homie!

Be serious!

7.

Saying ‘cyazee!’ or ‘type shi’ every single minute in a conversation is crazy because do you think I am boring (don’t answer that) that you want to end the conversation? Does ‘ cyazee!’ or ‘type shi’ have another meaning that I am not aware of and I am missing out on Oscar worthy dialogue?

8.

Being nonchalant while flirting only attracts girls with daddy issues and girls with daddy issues, let me grab your well manicured toes when I say this, it’s not your fault that you have daddy issues. I will elaborate more on my next substack.

All this concludes that the art of flirting is dead and that fllirting in Facebook era was probabaly peak or I am developing my frontal lobe.

And for men with dimples and a nice smile, this post isn’t meant for you, you can do no wrong in my eyes, Just exist pookie.

Bye.