Suckers for destructive love

Because citizen X and I spend more time apart than together, there's always much to ponder. For instance, why do bad relationships last longer than good ones? What is the universe trying to prove?

Because citizen X and I spend more time apart than together, there's always much to ponder. For instance, why do bad relationships last longer than good ones? What is the universe trying to prove?

Why give up your power to the number-one enemy, the person you love the most. C'mon, everyone knows that the person you love the most can beat a sniper in the game of destroying you.

After conceding for the umpteenth time that perhaps ours was a thing from Doomsville, we decided to just lay off it and play the eccentric and equally talented Amy Winehouse belting it out painfully. She was lamenting, "Though I'm rather blind, Love is a faith resigned, Over futile odds and laughed at by the gods, And now the final frame, Love is a losing game."

The question begging was, if love is such a bad habit and leads one down the valley of darkness, where is the logic? Ah the perils of the delicious sin! What would we do without a glimmer of hope?

I swear if I knew the things that roamed his heart, I might put a bullet in my head. Yet, just like everyone virile, I am eternally cultivating that fateful day.

Yeah, like it would ever happen. And still we want it. Not just the happy ending, but the turbulent journey to deliver us from boredom.

Now more than ever, reasons for wanting to be in love are more prevalent and urgent.

Love cushions life's blows, and South Africa keeps throwing rocks at her people, and what better place to complain about the Zuma trial than in his arms, huh?

Love pacifies us when we are in our craziest state. Sure it brings in a bucketful of regret later, but without someone to discuss cost cutting measures to cope in this God-forsaken country, life is pointless. And just as depression rubs off on the one who offers you a pacifier, love is taking a strain from our economic injustices.

My friend says love has grounded her even though we camped outside his flat last Friday hoping to catch him in the act. We think he's a gigolo.

When he's home, he spends the entire time recuperating in bed and facing the other way. When he comes back from his nocturnal activities, he comes bearing all that her heart desires, just not fornication.

Our other friend says rather that than being shagged out of your brain and waking up alone to go to work.

"Imagine working day and night for a man," she complains.

"I already have two jobs, I clean and cook, but come night time, I'm being kept awake by a man who's only claim to fame is making me speak in tongues."

At this revelation, Miss self-appointed PI's jaw comes close to touching the floor. She wants to speak in tongues as well. What a greedy lot we are! Clearly, our greed for both love and money shifts the brain's focal ability.

Yet people have killed for both. Why? Because one wise woman once sang: He's got me smiling when I should be ashamed, Got me laughing when my heart was in pain, Oh Oh now I must be fool, Cause I'll do anything he asked me do, how come?

That woman was Tina Turner. Ike had been bashing her head all over the place, yet to take the first step out of there, she had to chant: Nam Yoko Renge Kyo, a Buddhist chant of emancipation. She had to choose between money, love and her life.

There needs to be a rehab for love.

And while you do your 17 days, they need to look at how we can fix our financial woes because there definitely is a synergy between bad love and non-existent money.

X