Confessions of a Sugar Baby

By Mike Nkululeko Maphoto

Nelisa Songelwa is 17 when she is first approached by a 40-year-old plus Jack. He promises the world to her.
With his money and influence, she sees an opportunity to have fun whilst making money.
What starts as a game for this young girl, leads to death, broken families, mistrust and misadventures that destroy lives.
Confessions of a Sugar Baby is a tragic and yet powerful story that reflects the views of young girls when it comes to sugar-daddies, family, education and society.
Because when one is young, they believe they know it all and thus do not listen to reason.
She fails to understand her fate even though it is right before her own eyes. Her mother – a sugar baby herself – is the perfect example of how life can truly be bad if the amazing happens, and the sugar daddy actually marries his sugar baby.

In fact, it was this stubbornness and free spirit of being born as one of the infamous ama2000 that would lead her life to fall apart.
What Nelisa did not understand was that the story of a sugar daddy is as old as time and the victim like those before her, would always be the girl child.
It is the story of a high school teenage girl who falls into the trap of dating older men.
Nelisa's story is a powerful tragedy of what it means to be a teenage girl in today’s fast-paced society, in which being relevant means fierce competition.
This is a universal story that needs to be told over and over again because it is a prevalent social ill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bula Buka
• Release date: Feb 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005314507

Book preview

CONFESSIONS OF A SUGAR BABY

Mike Nkululeko Maphoto

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Copyright

CONFESSIONS OF A SUGAR BABY

By Mike Nkululeko Maphoto

Copyright © 2020 Maloma Content

All Rights Reserved

Print ISBN: 9780620711975

Published by Maloma Content – www.malomacontent.co.za

Edited by Lesedi Setlhodi-Paul

Cover designed by Mawela Netshidzivhe

Creative consultant: Judith Briles

Cover, layout, eBook conversion and online distribution by www.bulabuka.co.za

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electrical, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the author.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

About the author: Mike Nkuleleko Maphoto

Mike Nkululeko Maphoto is a South African dramedy novelist and lawyer. He is the author of the hit blog-drama Diary of a Zulu Girl and Confessions of a Sugar Baby. He is the co-writer of SABC 1’s hit TV series Makoti.

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The Polokwane writer was born in Zimbabwe to an exiled South African politician. He also lived in Zambia, Botswana and England.

Mike Maphoto’s writing journey began when he pulled a prank on a friend in 2005. It was from this prank that he realised he had flair with words and storytelling.

He is the father of the diary chronicle genre.

His blog Diary of a Zulu Girl is largely seen as the reason behind the blogging family in South Africa as it broke barriers for many authors to find their voice.

Boasting over 130 000 followers and with over 30 million views on Facebook, the Diary of a Zulu Girl dramedy broke readership barriers among young and old – male and female – readers.

Such was its influence that in 2016 he not only won the IEB award for blogging, but also the English Matric National Exams had his blog as one of their questions.

Mike studied Law and Politics at the University of Cape Town.

About the book

Nelisa Songelwa is 17 when she is first approached by a 40-year-old plus Jack. He promises the world to her.

With his money and influence, she sees an opportunity to have fun whilst making money.

What starts as a game for this young girl, leads to death, broken families, mistrust and misadventures that destroy lives.

Confessions of a Sugar Baby is a tragic and yet powerful story that reflects the views of young girls when it comes to sugar-daddies, family, education and society.

Because when one is young, they believe they know it all and thus do not listen to reason.

She fails to understand her fate even though it is right before her own eyes. Her mother – a sugar baby herself – is the perfect example of how life can truly be bad if the amazing happens, and the sugar daddy actually marries his sugar baby.

In fact, it was this stubbornness and free spirit of being born as one of the infamous ama2000 that would lead her life to fall apart.

What Nelisa did not understand was that the story of a sugar daddy is as old as time and the victim like those before her, would always be the girl child.

It is the story of a high school teenage girl who falls into the trap of dating older men.

Nelisa's story is a powerful tragedy of what it means to be a teenage girl in today’s fast-paced society, in which being relevant means fierce competition.

This is a universal story that needs to be told over and over again because it is a prevalent social ill.

Confessions – chapter one

I think every girl knows when she is beautiful. By this, I mean on the physical front. I was physically beautiful. Inner beauty is what the rest console themselves with when it comes to facing facts. We don’t spend ten hours in front of the mirror to try and properly put base a on our inner beauty. I don’t need anyone to tell me this. It is not being vain, it’s factual. I don’t flaunt it nor do I climb a mountain and crow over it. It’s simple and straight forward.

I am beautiful and every other person who looks at me even when they find fault in me see it too. Even when I was in primary school, older boys would comment on how one day I would become a heartbreaker. I was not sure what it meant back then but now I do, with devastating consequences. Am I sorry for having broken so many hearts, no am not, why should I be? By the time I was 16 I was already rejecting men older than my father. I had even slowed down on visiting my friend’s houses because on more than one occasion I had caught their fathers’ staring at me. It’s hard to get comfortable with that but as a girl, you learn to deal with it. At 17, I already know that even at parties I should never get isolated from my friends because so many boys desire me. We live in one country where unfortunately that other gender does not believe that no means no. Beauty is not all that it is cut out to be, at times it comes with a curse. Trust me, I know.

Was it not Jane Austen who said that it is a universally acknowledged fact that a good man in fortune should be in want of a wife? That was a long time ago, early 19th century to be exact but its relevance even today is quite profound. I was not always like this. I grew up in a good family with good moral values. My parents were not too strict nor were they less strict so to say, they have changed though. I can date but within reason, the occasional party and movies with my friends. I am allowed to sleep over at friend’s places and vice versa. I did not grow up with a single parent either, on the contrary, my parents are happily married and supportive. Why am I telling you all this? I want you to know that I am supposedly balanced. I am a normal middle-class girl. Even at school, I would say that I am an average learner, mostly B’s and C’s. I speak fluent English and unlike those other girls that speak like me, I pass it at school. Dress code, I dress like any other teen. Yes, I have one or two short dresses but nothing scandalous. It is mostly skinnies and tops. We have enough money for the occasional shopping but none of that platinum card business you see on TV. I wish. That’s where the problems come from, wanting things that your parents can’t afford but you tell yourself that it is because they do not want to get them for you. Why did they give birth to you in the first place if they did not want to give you the finer things in life? Sigh. This being woke nonsense is a problem.

I don’t think I was a late bloomer but amongst most of the girls, I knew I was considered one. I lost my virginity at 17. I knew a girl in my school who was already giving it up and she was only 14 and even then it was not that scandalous. I know a lot of people would want to say what a corrupt school but if you ask your little sisters and daughters, this is the norm of today. When I lost my virginity, I was considered to be a late bloomer. Sex is nice yes, but only in the moment of having it. There is always the drama of making sure that the condom didn’t fall off and the cuddle me nonsense that comes afterward. It’s weird but even as teenagers we know it’s one thing that people place way too much weight on. But that’s another story for this is not what happened one Thursday evening after hockey practice. I have always dreamt of being a geologist, random, but true. Everyone else who lacks creativity and ambition wants to be a doctor, a lawyer and yes, the heaven of South African students, an Accountant! I think there are more Boom Accounting students in this country than we have hobos! We just love numbers yet we are not the smartest people.

I was with my friend Sibongile; we called her Cbowie for short. The practice had been hectic as usual and Ms. Du Toit had just made us do yet another fitness drill as she said we looked lethargic in the last match. Guess what, we won it by a goal to nil. I was dating Thabo at the time. It was fun but Thabo was not dependable. He was a rugby player at our school and like me, he lived off pocket money from his parents. I am not saying I was dating him for money; on the contrary, he was possibly my first love. He broke my virginity but that’s also a story for another day.

Thabo was unreliable in that he was always out with his friends. Whenever I wanted to hang out with him he would be with his boys. I didn’t mind much but at times it got to me. We were schoolmates so I at least got to see him every day. I spent most breaks with him; problems came after school. I am a girl child so my freedom at home is not as easy to get as his. I felt as though he would say let’s go out at times knowing that I couldn’t go. I always heard he was out or he had been seen at places I could never have dreamt off. Once I heard he had kissed some girl from my school and I went ballistic. You know that playground drama where everyone wants to see a fight. Fortunately, she backed down and apologized otherwise, I am certain she would have kicked my ass. That’s why I had gone with my hockey girls for the confrontation. We had each other’s backs like that. Thabo, therefore, was hardly a saint but you know how back in high school you used to draw hearts in a book and cross out letters in your names to see how well you matched… That was me! He was my man, yeah; an 18-year-old boy was old enough to be labelled a man.

Anyway on this particular late afternoon, it looked as though it was about to rain. In fact, there were a few drizzles as we walked home. Cbowie and I didn’t live too far apart but she was further than me by a few streets. We were running late to get back at home because we had gone to the hostel to pick up a book at one of our friends’ room. As we turned away from the school road, a Jaguar pulled over. Thabo liked cars, so I knew my cars well through him. It was a familiar, very respectable person, it all seemed harmless. I knew him as Siyanda’s father. Siyanda had been two years my senior and was now in varsity. We used to meet him at the mall and he would have small talk with my parents. It’s not like they were friends or anything, just being neighbourly. So, when he offered us a lift it was harmless for we knew him.

My name is Nelisa by the way so that you don’t confuse yourself going forward. As Cbowie stayed a few streets from me she had to be dropped off first and because of that she had chosen to sit in the back seat. There were some files on the front seat which I had to pass to Cbowie to put at the back as I sat. It was at that moment that I had I remembered that he was a geologist and I was doing a research project on it which was showing me flames. I told him about this and he said I must ask my parents first whether he should help me with it. That was not an odd request I suppose. He gave me his card. We dropped off Cbowie and then me.

That evening I told my parents that I had been having problems with the project. My father who is an accountant had already tried and failed to help me. I told him about Siyanda’s father but I did not mention that he had given us a ride. For things not to sound weird I also told him it was Cbowie and me who would be getting help from him. My father called him to ask if it was okay and he said it was no problem at all.

I am ambitious I must admit that; I am also impatient and I love to make things happen. They don’t always happen as fast though. That night I dreamt of the Jaguar. I am more of a Mercedes Benz fan but something about it made me feel good. Girls at school get picked up by fancy cars but I wasn’t that girl. All I did was find it fascinating… for now!

Confessions – chapter two

I think it is a fantasy of every girl to have a guy who spoils her rotten and buys her things. I know it's easy to be labelled a gold digger by wanting more but where is your ambition if you don’t at least try? I think men are not the ones who call us names but its other women. With Thabo, my boyfriend, I was lucky if I got airtime out of him which always came with a demand that it was meant to call him. This was regardless of whether he picked up the phone. I realized early on that I was the one who did all the chasing and he would tell me constantly that it is not the guy’s role to chase after his girl. He told me that it made him look weak and his friends will laugh at him if he did that. At the time it was fine and romantic. The thought that I controlled a guy and his emotions gave me a sense of power. With time I learnt the nonsense behind it; he was even more independent than ever now that I had all the power. All he had to do was guilt me into doing something.

That whole week nothing of note happened until the weekend. Saturday when I went to Pick n Pay I bumped into him. By him, I mean Siyanda’s father. As now there was that acquaintance relationship I went to him and greeted him. I don’t know why but I joked at the fact that he had to cook for himself. His wife works in Cape Town and is a high ranking individual in a political party. I think that’s what broke the ice. I think older men are not comfortable talking to young girls in public because for some reason, it always seems wrong. He was not a scary man at all. He was a bit tall, possibly 1.85. I know this because he was slightly a bit taller than Thabo who was 1.8 on the dot. When you partake in sports at school, all this trivial things surface. I didn’t stay long with him though as I could feel his eyes would stare eventually. At least kids from my school were not as scandalous as those from other schools whose videos we had all seen on social media. I knew some girls were seeing older men but it was on the down-low; you needed to drag it out of people. I must admit though I liked the power that I had over him and how he seemed to melt in my presence yet maintain his composure.

When I got home he phoned me. I remember distinctly because my mum had just scolded me for not chopping the onions in small enough pieces. If there is anything I hate about cooking it is cutting onions. With a mum like mine, you had to cut them in a specific way. I swear you would think it would make them taste better the way it had to be meticulous. On weekends my mum always insisted it was mother-daughter time so the kitchen was our domain. I didn’t hate it surprisingly but the chopping and peeling got to me.

Anyway, my phone rang and I answered. It was Siyanda’s father. To say that the first conversation was awkward is an understatement. We had that awkward first call conversation which consisted mainly of oh’s/uuhs/pardon and ah’s. I don’t know why though considering that we didn’t flirt or anything while in the car nor at the store. He said that he was checking when I was to go to him regarding my assignment. He even suggested that maybe I should bring the chubby girl I was with the other day; he was referring to Cbowie. Not cool.

I knew she wouldn’t be there because they attended a church service from 9 a.m. until 4 p.m. Why on earth it took that long beat me. My mum was a bit on the religious side but even she called it ridiculous. I told him that I would ask my parents of which he said it was okay. We hung up at that. Why did that conversation feel so awkward though? I remember when I went back to the kitchen I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had stopped being Siyanda’s father but had turned into just another guy. My mum asked who had called and I told her the truth that I had called Siyanda’s father earlier and he was calling back. She said she was glad that finally, someone was helping with the assignment. She asked if Cbowie was going with and I readily said yes. Another lie. I honestly don’t know what had gotten into me.

The following day after church I asked my parents to drop me off at Cbowie’s house. This way they would have a peace of mind that I was going with Cbowie. I knew my mum was in a rush to go to my grandparent’s to drop off a few things, so they would leave me at the gate. Luckily, or not, it turned out that my friend was home. I decided that it was best we go together as his words from yesterday were still in my ears, uze naleso ‘sdudla. She is always keen that one. Her parents were at church still; I did not even bother asking why she had stayed behind. When we got to his gate we buzzed and he opened for us. He was not alone. His nephew who also happens to be doing a similar project to mine was there also needing help. I think he did it on purpose though to avoid that awkwardness we had experienced on the phone. Maybe I was imagining things.

He made a bit of small talk first before we all started doing our assignments. This man knew his stuff and we were eager learners, all three of us. Even Cbowie who at school is normally the last one to catch things was motivated, I think she was crushing on the nephew. Teenage life. He (Siyanda’s father) gave us orange juice as we worked. I made sure that I didn’t make any eye contact with him because I didn’t want him to see that he made me feel things I was yet to fully comprehend.

When the time he could spare us ended I was done with my assignment. I was four days ahead of the due date, something I had never done before. Cbowie still had a few sections to complete but she too was almost done. The nephew, I didn’t care about, he didn’t even go to my school.

As we were leaving he called me aside by saying he has a message for my parents I followed him to his study. No one suspected a thing. I mean who would have, this man was possibly my father’s age and he was like our teacher. When we got to the study he asked me if I would like us to keep in touch. When I had no response he told me that he would like us to keep in touch. I just nodded and blushed profusely for I was not that naïve to realize I was being hit on. Somehow, I felt ready and that I could handle it. He asked me to send him a call-back when I could speak tonight and to change his name on my phone to a girl’s name. All of which I agreed to. He then asked me for a hug. It was different from the kinds I got from Thabo because it was long and heartfelt. I might even say sensual. This man sent electricity down my body but I didn’t even like him as a boyfriend.

I am curious to know, why the interest in Geology? Other kids, I mean other people your age want to be accountants, doctors or lawyers?

I believe that in the next ten years there will be so many jobs in that industry especially for women. I have never pictured myself being fully bound to an office, this career path will see me be outdoors in the field studying rocks that may possess valuable minerals and possibly locate other natural resources such as groundwater, oil, and natural gases.

He seemed very impressed with my response.

With that, we left and I was not happy about something, he had called me a kid and for the first time, I felt inadequate or less by being called one.

Confessions – chapter three

Before I continue, I think I should make it clear that I don’t think there is any teenage girl who doesn’t have a sugar daddy story to share, many are just too ashamed to come out with it. Most of us have done things that we are ashamed of hence we don’t talk about them. A sugar daddy relationship is not only about sex but also allowing an older man to do you favours and usually in return for something. Yes, some girls show off saying that they spent his money but never slept with him. Cut the nonsense, you did enough to have hurt another woman sitting at home waiting for her husband. Being young and aware of yourself makes you bolder than your average woman. When you are young and beautiful you tell yourself that it is not your fault that his wife got fat and boring. You tell yourself that you didn’t go to his home to get him, on the contrary, he came to you. Yes, you fear getting caught but the money that comes with it more than compensates for it.

I never got a chance to send him the call back he had asked for because as fate would have it, we got load-shedding that night before I could charge my battery. I fell asleep before the power came back. That week was rather busy. For some reason, I imagined him picking me up from school. I didn’t want some old man with a big car picking me up from school, especially someone whose daughter had gone to my school recently. I keep mentioning Siyanda. She was two years ahead of me at school. I barely knew her but we were cordial enough to have a chat once in a while. When she passed her matric she went to Rhodes University, I think.

Things have a way of shaping themselves when you have someone with the potential to surpass your current boyfriend. That week Thabo was super sweet. I remember I found him waiting for me at the gate every morning. My birthday was a week and a half away, so he said that for the build-up he was going to do something nice and sweet for me until the big day. That was like nine days away, was he crazy? It was sweet though and the teen in me recognized that. Every day, true to his word he had a surprise for me. He paid extra attention to me and at times even carried my backpack. I loved his attention to detail. It made me forget about Siyanda’s father; I was back to being a teenager again. The week went by too fast; time does fly when you are having fun.

On Friday night Siyanda’s father sent me a message. I remember I was watching TV at the time and it just sent shivers down my spine. I think it’s obvious to say that I was crushing on this old man. I know Thabo had been sweet and all but I wanted to experience other things. All along I didn’t like attention from older men but this one was getting under my skin in a good way. The message simply said Good evening. You know with us young people, our greetings are more in line with slang. That’s what we call modern. He was so formal that for a good hour I was not sure how to respond. Eventually, I replied. He asked what I was doing and if I could go outside. I told him it was risky but I could try. He said he was going out with his friends therefore we should make it late, this way my parents will be sleeping. The nerve! You know when you chat with someone through the phone you have all this confidence. That was me. I was in control of the situation. I told him that my father sleeps around ten. He asked if my parents checked up on me when I was asleep of which I replied with LMAO. He asked me what that meant. Awkward! Who doesn’t know what that means and worse how could I say Ass to an old man? I explained as best I could without using the word Ass.

He arrived around 11 p.m., I was already sleepy by then. I made sure I didn’t buzz him or SMS him so that in future I could make him pay for his tardiness. I had never jumped the fence before therefore I did what I had seen on TV. I put pillows under my bed covers to make it seem like I was lying there. It was my job at home to make sure that the doors were locked. My father always said it taught me responsibility. Moreover, there was no alarm system at my house hence getting out was easy. My gate was not electric but it had a smooth locking mechanism that it didn’t make any noise.

Once or twice I had gone outside late at night to meet Thabo by the gate on his late-night parties therefore I had a bit of experience. I had never actually left though. He was already there by the corner with his lights off. He was not driving the Jaguar but a BMW X5. He stepped outside so that I could see it was him which was not necessary because I knew the car. He had thought that I wasn’t going to come out but I told him that we should not take too long. We drove off.

We went to the park in a neighbourhood close to ours. Have you ever seen cars parked randomly in the middle of nowhere during the day or even at night? I can bet you anything that it is people having affairs, why else would you park so far or so randomly? Whenever I drove around with Thabo (that’s when and if his parents gave him the car during the day), if we saw such a car parked like that we would drive closely to see who was in it and what they were doing. I had seen enough to say some things are meant for the bedroom.

Guess what? I had become that girl in the car, parked under a tree at a park and what’s worse was that a police car had just pulled up behind us!!!

Confessions – chapter four

With the blue lights flashing behind us Siyanda’s father immediately got out of the car to confront them before they got to us. You know how South African police like things. The officer got out of the car and instead walked to our car. There in the front seat was me looking guilty as hell. It was so embarrassing. He asked Siyanda’s father what was going on and he replied that we were just relaxing at the park. He wanted to know why so late. He told him that the park was open 24 hours therefore he was not breaking the law. I think that this annoyed the policeman as he immediately asked if he could search the vehicle. I had to get out of the car. I looked so pathetic. They searched the car, found nothing and left. I asked Siyanda’s father if that was all necessary and he said the police are worse than the criminals as they tend to harass those that they are supposed to protect. He suggested that we drive to his house and I readily agreed. I bet no girl has never been taken to a park at night if she was with a guy who drives. I don’t know why the park is the ideal place. Even as we drove off another car was arriving to park.

As the police had asked for his license, I asked him how old he was. He didn’t hesitate and said he was 43. Damn! He was 15 years younger than my father and I must admit, he was in great shape. You know those black men you see jogging in the morning. Yes, he was one of them. I started doing the math in my head as to defining what he would be to me if I continued to entertain him. It really mattered. I was crazy to be even here. A lot of people confuse the definition of a sugar daddy. By my reckoning, an older married man is a sugar daddy if you date him and have no income and he takes care of all your needs. Well, even if you are making your own money that is yours alone. If you are 20 and your husband is 35 there is no problem with that. But if you are 20 and he is 35 and married then yes, you are a nyatsi. A sugar daddy is a man who is older than you, typically married to someone else then dates you. Just putting it out there.

He asked me what I thought was happening between the two of us. Stupid question but it needed an answer. I think that because I had agreed to jump the fence for him meant that it was sealed. I told him that I knew he was after me and he asked me how I felt about it, I told him the truth that it was flattering. I realized that his appeal came from the fact that I knew him a bit. He wasn’t a total stranger but someone whom I knew would have my best interests at heart because of our proximity. I could see that the answer I had given him had greatly flattered him as he was now smiling. We talked more and he asked if he could kiss me. I think this is the most awkward part. The kiss was awkward, I was nervous. I had only ever kissed a high school boy and you don’t get that prickly sensation you get from a shaven man. I could sense the difference in control. Thabo literally eats you in a kiss whereas this man draws you into it.

You know that saying that it’s harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than it is for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. Well, amongst my friends we have our own saying that it’s harder to find a virgin in matric than it is to buy bread at a spaza. I was no novice. I remember when he put his hand underneath my t-shirt. It was exciting, blood rushed through my entire body. It was a bittersweet feeling, because on the one hand I had my father touching my breasts and on the other hand I had a boyfriend in him. I think as girls even when a guy just touches your boobs we know what’s going to happen or rather what he wants to happen. The feeling is great but then it can be clouded by fear; contrary to popular belief we tend to overthink and analyze things. Regardless, I realized I had to stop him. I was not that easy and besides, I had a plan for him.

Asime kancane manje.

Hawu asenze kancane futhi.

Cela ungihambise ekhaya manje

He was a bit reluctant but he didn’t fight me. I had him where I wanted him. All men are the same regardless of age. They want what they can’t have and if you play it just right you will have them wrapped around your finger in no time. Even in high school, we all have that one boy who would do anything for us even if we are mean or nice to him. That’s how life is. At my school, Tebogo was the one who had a crush on me. I knew that if I said hi to him I would make his week. If I needed something he would go above and beyond to see to it that I got it. Thabo used to laugh at me about it.

It was time to go home. It was already 01:30 in the morning. He drove me back and seemed to be so happy with himself. He asked me if there was anything I needed, I said no. This was just day one and this old man was like a kid in a candy store. I am sure he would have offered me the earth if I wanted. We got to my street and he dropped me a little closer to my gate. We said our goodbyes and we kissed again.

I entered the gate as quietly as a church mouse and tip toed to the house. I couldn’t help but feel stupid.

As I got to the porch the light in the lounge off!

Someone was up!

Confessions – chapter five

I think that it is prudent to ask what motivates a young girl to go after an older man. Yes, we all blame the older man but never sit down and ask about her. I liked things. I know that and I am certain that you have figured that out too. But that couldn’t just be it. High school is a time of self-discovery and once you get into this lifestyle there is no turning back. I liked the idea of having a man for once, not a small boy who didn’t even know how to tie his tie. For now, however, I needed to make a plan. How useless was I to have been busted on the very first night? My father would smack me and that was putting it lightly. My mother would probably just shout then blame my father for being too soft on me as usual. I was bored with my life. Too much routine.

So, there I was standing outside the door on the porch. I was not sure whether to move backward nor forward. Who was up? I hadn’t deliberated this well. I didn’t know what to do! Someone must have been up to drink water or something, but then they decided for some odd reason to double check if the