Like your typical women’s rights hawker, I am always available to carry women’s rights on my head. I go hard for my womennnnnnnnn because if I do not, who will? Up Femco!

However, when it comes to women’s wrongs, I thread carefully around because there are some wrongs I jump down from at the nearest bus stop before I end up at the destination of doom.

In this case, I am referencing pick me women. You would think it only come in the form of women who contort themselves into anything and everything so they can finally be a Mrs. But no, there is also the Resident Cool Babe who deems herself better suited for male friendship because women are such a crazy puzzle she cannot solve and men are supposedly more straightforward. Then there are the Crazy Future Boy Moms who always end every conversation with “but what if it was your son in future that” followed by some crazy crime a man can commit against a woman.

However, nothing, and I mean nothing, can prepare you for the Dick Hugger Against All Costs and Will Throw You Under the Bus pick me.

Don’t save her. She doesn’t wanna be saved.

I learnt a bitter and painful lesson this quarter about how dangerous pick me women can be. How they do not mind putting you in harm’s way for a crumb of mediocre, run down peen. I experienced, from one pick me woman, several stages of grief without death. Denial, anger, some betrayal, before finally coming to terms with acceptance.

                                                                    GOM GOM GOM O!

Pick me women are women’s worst enemies when it comes to men. It is bewildering how conveniently pick me remove their brains and shove it inside a dusty cabinet the moment a man is involved. His ugliness aside, his fermented beans and boiled meat smell aside, his dirt crusted fingernails aside, his bare minimum aside. As long as he is a man, you can go to hell and get roasted to smithereens. They do not care!

It was not even this painful when I was told to stop raining insults on my friend’s boyfriend after she told me stories upon stories about how he mistreated her. She told me point blank, “Watch it, that’s my man.” I remember tweeting about it and laughing at myself because truly, who sent me? With my long mouth and vibrating self. Why are my cries louder than the bereaved? Why am I taking paracetamol round the clock for a headache that is not mine? Oversabi feminist.

But would you blame me? I hate to see women mistreated or depressed over fickle, stupid nonsense brought about by some silly dude, so I go all out to make them feel better. This was the same me that planned a Galentine in February 2018 with a former schoolmate I was serving with at the time. She had just been dumped a few days to Valentine’s by her boyfriend who, according to her, was cheating. So I put on my backyard feminist cape and told her I would make sure she did not feel heartbroken or abandoned on Lover’s Day. I was ready to spend money on this girl because it takes nothing to make someone feel better about themselves.

Ladies and gentlemen, this woman not only aired me, I later found out she went on a date with some dude from our CDS instead. So there I was, eggs on my face, because apparently I do not know how to face my front.

At this point, it feels like I have a humiliation kink, because yet again, I went batshit and flipped after finding out some girl I thought was a friend would rather be hugged up on a man than see herself as deserving and more. I understand that sometimes feelings cloud our senses and some of us choose to be stupid on purpose because of a man. But it should never be at the detriment of your mental health unless you have a pain fetish.

I believe it is a different ball game when you are fooling without knowing you are fooling. But once you have the full picture and you still go to the circus to perform, knowing the uncaged gorilla that lurks there, then that is self-inflicted clownery. The kind where you wore the clown dress yourself and took your time painting the clown makeup on.

I understand loneliness and how crazy it gets scrolling through TikTok and Instagram, seeing annoying couple content. Trust me, I hiss at those irritating love performances too. I get how it can make one give randoms, who should not get a crumb of your time, premium attention simply because you do not have enough of it. But what will never ever make sense is seeing fire and trudging towards it like a zombie possessed ram.

I mean come on.