Sometimes I Let My P**** Call the Shots, I Call That Clitical Thinking

There are few things more dangerous than a woman who knows exactly what she should do and decides, with full awareness and unsettling confidence, to do the opposite. Not because she lacks intelligence, not because she hasn’t analysed every angle, replayed every conversation, consulted friends, journaled, overthought, and constructed a detailed psychological profile of everyone involved. But because sometimes logic enters the room, presents its findings, and desire simply says: "thank you for your contribution, but not today."

We live in an age obsessed with optimisation, meaning better habits, better boundaries, better decision-making. We are encouraged to become efficient architects of our own lives, choosing careers strategically, relationships consciously, and routines intentionally. Everything must be data-driven and therefore emotionally intelligent and aligned. And yet, human behaviour has never been entirely governed by logic. Particularly not the deeply messy, instinctive, contradictory terrain of attraction, pleasure, curiosity, ego, fantasy, loneliness, chemistry, or the intoxicating thrill of making a decision that feels right long before it can be justified.

Women, perhaps more than ever, exist in a fascinating tension between hyper-awareness and unapologetic instinct. We know the language now, everything from attachment styles, red flags, to nervous system regulation and emotional availability. We can identify manipulation in under four text messages and diagnose avoidant behaviour before the second date arrives, believe us, we are not to be fooled today, we are deeply informed, educated and therapy-adjacent.

And still, occasionally, spectacularly irrational. Not accidentally irrational, consciously irrational, there is a huge ass difference. Because some choices are not made in the absence of information, they are made in spite of it, and I call that clitical thinking.

The job you knew was impractical but exciting enough to risk stability for, the city move that made no financial sense but promised reinvention, the relationship entered with both eyes open and expectations appropriately low, the impulsive purchase, the last-minute flight, the emotionally questionable text sent after careful internal debate. All these moments aren’t always evidence of poor judgment, sometimes they are evidence that human beings are not spreadsheets.

There is an uncomfortable truth buried beneath our collective obsession with making the “right” choices: life is not built entirely through rational calculation. Some of the most transformative experiences emerge from decisions that fail every conventional metric of sensible behaviour; desire has launched careers, instinct has changed lives, and curiosity has rewritten identities.

And yes, impulse has occasionally created disasters, but also stories worth telling. The modern woman is often expected to perform an impossible balancing act: be ambitious but soft, emotionally intelligent but not emotional, spontaneous but responsible, intuitive but evidence-based and of course the best one yet, which has been drilled into our brains since birth; feel deeply, but decide rationally, my personal favorite.

Trust yourself, but only if your instincts can be validated by a spreadsheet, therapist, or five close friends.

But what if part of self-trust means acknowledging that not every meaningful decision emerges from pure logic? What if instinct, pleasure, attraction, hunger, ambition, ego, creativity, and desire are not opposing forces to intelligence, but components of it? Perhaps clitical thinking has always been more complicated than cold reasoning, and perhaps real intelligence includes understanding that humans are driven not only by facts but by longing. By imagination, by wanting and by the occasional inexplicable pull toward something that cannot yet be defended in practical terms.

Now ladies and gents, this is not an argument against discernment. Some instincts deserve questioning, some impulses should absolutely be left on read, but there is something strangely honest about admitting that our internal decision-making processes are rarely clean, linear, or entirely respectable. We are emotional economists making impossible calculations between safety and excitement, certainty and possibility, discipline and desire, and yet sometimes, despite every carefully constructed framework for sensible living, another voice enters the meeting; a voice that is less structured, less professional, but deeply persuasive and undeniably convincing, and oh how I just love that voice at times.

The truth is, being human has never been about choosing between instinct and intelligence; it is about managing the ongoing negotiation between them, and yes sometimes logic wins and then there are times when longing does, so for me, the most honest thing a person can admit is that they made a decision not because it was strategically perfect, psychologically healthy, or universally recommended but because some part of them wanted it, in that exact moment, without requiring further evidence.

So whether that qualifies as poor judgment, radical self-trust, or an unconventional form of critical thinking remains, perhaps, open for debate.