If you are one of those judgemental creatures whose first approach to issues is to find fault with another person’s actions, and as such you are about to judge me for my adult choice, close this page—this article is not meant for people like you.

In fact, I hate to have such conversations with people who condemn and judge others, simply because those people sin differently from them. You are not better than me in any way.

2016 ended on a good note for me: Nana Akufo Addo, an old man whose wife may be receiving little to no in-bed satisfaction, except if he’s as good with his tongue as John Dumelo managed to kick the energetic Usain Bolt style thief-John Dramni Mahama out—giving us some sort of hope that things are about to get better in Ghana.

It wasn’t just the political change that ended the year on a high note for me, I finally landed myself a responsible man, who’s able to pay for the Friday night’s simple ‘Banku and Tilapia’ we enjoy at Osu together—unlike the days of my ex when I had to always foot the bill and his taxi fare.

That guy was the contemporary definition of USELESS.

So, somewhere in October 2016 when I suddenly disappeared from the writing board, I met a good-smelling man who works in Sales at one of the Telecommunication Companies in Accra. I had gone to their office to lodge a complaint and on leaving the building, he approached to do the usual, ask for my phone number.

Later that night, we started texting—at about 11pm, we were still sending the getting to know each other messages. Apart from the fact that I was using him to keep myself awake to lock the main door when my mother returns from her late night service, he was somewhat interesting.

Out of the blue, I called; I do this a lot when I want to know if a man who claims to be single is indeed single. And he didn’t answer—the first sign that he had company.

How can someone showing online and replying my messages miss a call on the same phone? I asked myself.

And then he asked; “Akos, did you just call me?” To which I replied, “sorry, it was a mistake.” The aggression and quickness with which this man was messaging, an opportunity to have a late night voice chat shouldn’t have escaped him unless he was lying by the side of another woman while chatting me.

Right from that night, I knew I was about to become a side chick again—not that I hate this position, I just didn’t see myself ending the year as someone’s side chick.

But this was different and before anything else, let me explain to you the two types of side chick situations out there, which will help you have a fair idea of where I sit and the lack of regret.

The first side chick position, which I find pathetic is when a man has a serious woman and tells you about it and yet you decide to go out with him. Here, he is able to talk to the other woman when you are around because you are aware of her and have sanctioned the relationship. However, when he’s with the main woman, he wouldn’t dare pick your call—because you do not exist in such circumstance.

The other situation is when a man thinks he’s playing smart. He will tell you he’s single but the truth will be that he’s married, engaged or have a serious girlfriend. Unknown to him, you are aware of his lies but you decide to play along, to your gains—so that eventually, he gets busted by the main chick for you to also leave his sorry cheating butt.

I’ve been playing on the second ground and so far, it’s been going well—maybe after “Mr. I can lick you all night” reads this, he will first pull the plug. I am certain he wouldn’t read this as he claims to be always working at night, even from home. That’s the sort of lame reason he gives to his inability to pick up late night calls and why he must cut the call anytime he reaches home from work.

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