Relationship experts, like motivational speakers, where do they come from? Is there a university? A secret monastery, like a convent where broken and sometimes bitter hearts go to get certificates in telling other People what to do? Unless one is speaking out of experience or expertise, which is merely confidence plus credentials, they are basically projecting their thoughts and opinions – we mostly accompany such thoughts with big words.
Or is it simply that suffering ages you into authority? I understand breakups happen, but why is yours from 1996 suddenly making you a professor in relationshiology?
Jaydee and I met one such expert. She held onto her beer the whole night, only lifting it to ask for another beer. All this time, she was dressed to impress. Relationship expertise requires extensive field research using gossip. Her choice of music was good.
Our expert stayed quiet through politics, philosophy, and Jaydee’s conspiracy theory about the treble-winning Arsenal squad until someone mentioned relationships, where she woke up and claimed the microphone, taking us through her expectation of men – turns out, however good-looking or loaded a boda guy is, our expert would not date him.
Most people analysing men and women aren’t analysing anything. They’re projecting. It’s not anthropology, it’s a lingala with modern instruments. “The shallower the thinker, the shallower the thought.” As you fumble, emotional intelligence! Do you have it? Can you read between the lines, or do you just read between the wines? Uganda’s divorce rate is 65%, coupled with 14m mad people – apparently, we’re a bunch of fellas barking at the clouds.
“All the world’s a stage,” said Shakespeare, and we are merely players.” Imagine: you’re neither beautiful nor humble. Your only sense of beauty comes from a WhatsApp group of fellow queens, where everyone validates everyone into a feedback loop of manufactured confidence. What power do you hold?
And who decides beauty anyway? Your parents, peers or the man you meet in the absence of light in a studio apartment or that one guy in high school who said you had “a great personality” before life kicked in? Beauty is subjective, while rushing for Tecno cameras and their dishonest filters.
Now picture this: you’re a man. Your looks are far from striking, and your pockets have no gains to protect to an extent that your brain feeds on past glory, and the only exercise you can afford besides walking is yawning. What voice can you possibly add to an investment discussion when you are far from vested yourself? Can you sit without self-evaluation in a gathering of men discussing farms, bonds, unit tursts and supplies? Of what use is that Social Science degree where everyone else is a doctor? Your opinion in such a gathering is technically your presence.
So your bark sparks of sense and your IQ is marble-sized, but marbles are spherical, that’s geometrically efficient even when your experience is far from wisdom. When you baptize yourself in authority. Issue gospels. All while craving the very experience you’re gospel-ing about. What do you call it? Wisdom, bitterness or loneliness? At time, one can speak so much without saying anything, but because they have cheerleaders with a similar experience, they continue to talk.
“Humans look out for themselves first. That’s undisputed wisdom. Everything is a transaction. ” Prof. Ayella, 2026