The sun, a molten orange disc sinking behind the bustling streets of Lusaka, casts long shadows across your apartment. You watch it from the balcony, a glass of lukewarm beer in your hand, the city’s symphony of honking taxis and street vendors calling out their wares filling your ears. You’ve done well today, landing a major deal with a foreign investor. The money, substantial enough to change your life, feels heavy in your pocket, a tangible weight that makes your chest swell with pride.
But as the city lights begin to twinkle, and the air gets thick with the scent of grilling meat from the street vendors below, a different feeling starts to creep in. A familiar, insidious feeling of restless desire. It's the feeling you’ve felt before, the kind that comes with wealth. The sudden, almost desperate need to share it, to prove it, to use it to attract. It leaves you needing more than just the beer in your hand.
You remember the days before you were successful. Back then, your weekends were spent at a local bar, surrounded by friends, the air thick with laughter and the shared hope for a brighter future. You’d flirt with the women who came in, always hoping to catch the eye of someone special. Then, your luck seemed to change, the deals started flowing in, your life started to shift. You moved from a small flat to this comfortable apartment, replaced your old car with a sleek SUV, and even your wardrobe underwent a transformation. And your desires did too.
You began to notice the women who frequented the more exclusive bars, the ones with designer bags and manicured nails. The allure of their confidence, their independence, their willingness to engage in conversations about things beyond your previous world, felt intoxicating. You started to see them as trophies, a representation of your success. You felt like you could have any of them, and for a while, you did. But each night, each fleeting encounter left you with a hollow feeling. You’d be left with a sense of emptiness, a fleeting sense of satisfaction that quickly dissipated, replaced by an ache deeper than the emptiness of your wallet.
You turn away from the city lights and step back inside your apartment. The air inside is cool, a welcome relief from the heat. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a successful man, handsomely dressed, with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. But the smile feels forced, hollow. You’re tired of the superficiality, the fleeting pleasure. You long for a real connection, a conversation that goes beyond the surface.
Then, a thought strikes you. It’s the first time it occurs to you, and it hits you with the force of cold water. You've seen the shift in your female friends, the ones who have also tasted success. They've gone from shy, eager girls, eager to find a husband, to strong, independent women. They've found their voice, their power, and they've learned to embrace it. The men, who used to be their focus, have become an afterthought. They’ve become self-sufficient, content with their own company, and the men who fit into their life are the ones who respect that, who understand it, who don’t see their success as a threat.
You take a swig from your beer, the bitter taste suddenly reminding you of the truth. You’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places, chasing shadows of what you thought you wanted. You've been chasing the idea of a woman who needs you, who is drawn to your wealth, not realizing that the most fulfilling relationships are built on shared values, mutual respect, and a genuine connection.
Perhaps it’s time to stop looking for a trophy and start looking for a partner. Perhaps it’s time to stop seeking validation from the superficial and start seeking connection from the heart. You need to find your own way, a way that doesn’t rely on the validation of others. Maybe then, you’ll finally find the love you’ve been searching for, and the city lights won’t seem so empty anymore.
