Rising musician Skinny Skater has built a name off love songs filled with heartbreaks and commitment issues. But behind the lyrics are real stories from his own life.
In an interview with Zikoko, he opened up about the inspiration behind the lyrics — “She no care about balling…Casanova / But she know that I no go treat am well”, from his latest single, “Casanova” — a personal experience from years ago that still haunts him today.
This is Skinny Skater’s story as told to Marv.
I’ve never been good at commitment. I hate being tied down. My parents are divorced, and all four of my uncles are divorced and unmarried, too. Maybe it’s because of those experiences and the people I’ve seen around me, but the idea of belonging to someone entirely has always made me uneasy.
I have been to therapy because of this, and it couldn’t even fix me. Rather, I spent a lot of time rehashing my lack of commitment, things I already knew.
They gave me tools to help me manage it and patterns to look out for, but it didn’t work.
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I like freedom. I like being able to do what I want, when I want. But that freedom also comes with its own kind of loneliness, which I love because no visitor means everything is left and kept where I put it.
A lot of this is about control. I like being the one who decides how close or how far things go. Love makes me surrender that control, and that scares me. I’ve always been the guy who wants to handle everything on his own, who doesn’t like to depend on anyone. But when I care about someone deeply and they’re always around, dependence and vulnerability sneak in quietly. I wasn’t ready when this happened with a girl I dated some years ago.
When I met her in 2018, she was the first person I had a long-term relationship with. Initially, I didn’t think it would become anything serious.
For a year and a half that we were together, it was mostly great. She had a calm personality and was the kind of babe that made me feel seen. And even though I didn’t plan for it, I found myself getting used to her. She made things easy. She’d call to check on me, show up when I needed someone, and never ask for too much. That’s what got me.
I liked it. It felt good, but it also scared me. I knew what it could mean, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that. Her kindness felt like she had ulterior motives.
I thought she was too nice and too good for me.
She began to notice things changing and complained about it. Many times she tried to talk to them about it. She wanted more of me and my presence. I could feel it in the way she’d ask questions — “What are we doing?” “Where is this going?” “Do you see us together for real?” I didn’t have the answers. Sometimes I’d change the topic; sometimes I’d just stay quiet. I wasn’t trying to hurt her, but I didn’t know how to tell her the truth, that I didn’t want to be committed. I just wanted things to stay how they were.
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But I knew that I couldn’t expect someone who loved me to stay in the dark forever. She started pulling away, little by little. She’d reply slower, cancel plans, and stop calling first. I noticed, but I didn’t bring it up. I told myself, “If it’s meant to be, it will be.” That was a lie I said to make myself feel better. Deep down, I knew I was the reason things were falling apart.
When it finally ended, I couldn’t even explain what happened. There was no big fight, no argument. Just silence that grew until it swallowed everything. One day, she stopped showing up, and I didn’t go after her. Maybe I thought she’d come back; perhaps I didn’t want to face what losing her meant.
She was so hurt, she joined an X (at the time Twitter) trend about bad ex-lovers, and she made a thread about me, detailing how I’m not present, committed, unfit to have a relationship with anyone. Some friends shared it with me and it hurt a little bit.
I tried to move on like it was nothing. I told myself I was fine, that I didn’t need anyone. Actually, she wasn’t in my head anymore. I was busy with other things, like my music. But most relationship-leaning songs I wrote somehow had a bit of our story. That’s when I realised it wasn’t nothing. It was something real, and I’d lost it because I was scared of commitment.
That’s where my new single “Casanova” came from. I was talking to myself, confessing. I wasn’t proud of how things went down. I knew I let her on. I gave her reasons to believe we were building something when, in reality, I was too afraid to build anything at all.
It’s strange, because I wrote the song this year, almost four years after we drifted apart. I write love songs all the time. I can describe what heartbreak feels like and how it sounds. But living through it is a different kind of lesson. Writing it was the first time I admitted that I was the problem. That I wasn’t some victim of heartbreak, I was the one causing it.
You might hear “Casanova” and think it’s about being a player, but it’s really about being lost. It’s about wanting love but being afraid of what it asks of you. I didn’t set out to hurt anyone; I was just scared of being vulnerable.
Now, when I listen to that song, it feels like a mirror. It reminds me of who I am, because I’m still struggling. Other relationships I have had since then haven’t lasted up to four months. Even now, I’m currently in one that’s just a few months old.
I’m sure I’ve not changed completely, but I’m learning to own up to what I did. She showed me what fear looks like: my own reflection, hiding behind excuses. I’m learning that I can’t keep someone halfway. I either show up or I don’t.
My ex from years ago is married with kids now, and I don’t have any attachment to her anymore. I learned through her, but there’s nothing more to say to each other.
Other people I meet now, I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I don’t say what I don’t mean. I don’t hold someone’s hand just because it feels good in the moment, because affection can be misleading if it’s not backed by intention.
The fear is still there, and I’m afraid it’s how I’m always going to be. It’s especially frightening when I think about how those close to me have the same commitment issues, and mine is just like an extension.
