I fell on my face last week. I literally fell flat on my face, I don’t know what happened but my head I missed a step and ended up face first on the concrete. It took two days before I was able to open my eye but miraculously after a little over a week, apart from a scar, I am pretty ok.

It is at times like this that you put things into perspective, petty squabbles seem insignificant because you think to yourself, I could have hit my head and not woken up. Then bitch I was arguing with the day before would still be a bitch but the argument would have ceased, the arsehole who dumped me would still be an arsehole but life goes on with or without me in it so I can only make sure that while I am still breathing I am making the most out of my life.hen bitch I was arguing with the day before would still be a bitch but the argument would have ceased, the arsehole who dumped me would still be an arsehole but life goes on with or without me in it so I can only make sure that while I am still breathing I am making the most out of my life.

I got a phone call the next day, well I got a few calls actually, mostly from well wishers. Then I got one of those phone calls where I wished I never even picked up. It was from the ex. Somehow me falling on my face had to have had something to do with him in Nana’s world. “I said move on, then you go and get drunk and fall over, is that the kind of life you want to live”. No Nigga, I missed my step and fell over, could have happened whether I had a few glasses of wine or not. I fell into a gutter once and was stone cold sober. But really don’t know what that had to do with him, I told him that I had heard and goodbye. I didn’t really need to waste any more energy that day on him, I had an bruised eye to take care of.

They say time is a great healer, and it is true for my face, a week later and almost back to my beauty except for a bit of scarring. My heart, well that’s another matter. I am over him, that happened 24 hours after we ended, but I am still kicking myself that I got suckered in the way I did. Then just when I am done and not a thought in my head about him, something triggers that dreadful feeling all over again.

The latest, I found out while seeing a friend in the area. My ex is quite popular in town, mainly through self promotion actually wholly through self promotion. He brags to anyone with an ear about what he is doing and how much money he intends to earn (I say intends because he never seems to have a dime in that moment). It turns out that these friends were talking about his latest nuptials. I stayed pretty quiet throughout the whole conversation but you could have punched me in the stomach when I heard the story.

In December, he is planning to marry an African American lady by the name of Shanika. An African American lady that he met via facebook. Apparently she had been dating his cousin but the relationship ended when he moved to New York and married his sweetheart. Swoop in Nana, they started talking late last year (while we were going through our “issues”). In July of this year, he brought her down to Ghana (he bought a ticket on credit) an went down on bended knee with an engagement (probably my frigging promise ring….haha). They will be married in a court house either here or over there and live happily ever after.

Honestly, if he were genuine I would be happy for them. They could get married and he would move out of Ghana and I could hang out with my friends without ever having to bump into him. However, he got a bit annoyed that the money she had brought over to do her shopping was not spent on him and since she got back he is expecting some dollars. I heard that she should be sending $100 anytime now if he hadn’t already.

He has also told his little girlfriend (who lives in Ghana) that someone has agreed to a fake marriage so that he can go to school in the States. I wonder if he can even spell book, or read a book, but who am I to judge.

As I said, if he is genuine, I wish him the best of luck, but if he isn’t, I honestly hope that Karma bites him very hard on his arse.