When I was thirty years, I gave myself two years. Two more years to find a man, be in a relationship with him and get married before the two years end. I was shifting the goalpost. When I was much younger I said twenty-five. When I got to twenty-five, I said twenty-seven. When I got to twenty-seven I gave myself up to thirty. I even told myself, “Thirty is final. If by thirty I’m not married, I’ll give up on love and relationship and totally forget about marriage. At thirty I made a declaration that sought to be the grand finale and this time I was serious.
I had men coming my way when I was as young as eighteen years old. I didn’t attract my age. I attracted men who had everything going for them. At nineteen I said yes to one of them. We dated for a year before I got to know he was married. I moved on quickly before he could explain himself. The phone I was using he bought it for me. The job I was doing, he got me connected. I was in school but anytime I came home for vacation, I had a job I was doing. I was so good at the role that they reserved it for me until I completed and started doing my service with them. Right after service, I was fully employed. The good thing that happened to me in that relationship.
I put myself out there very often but these men were not truthful to me. A friend of mine, Erica advised, “It comes with the space you’re in and the men you attract. The polished ones were polished by another woman’s sweat. They keep those women and still go out there looking for those they can have fun with. If you can and will listen to me, come down a little. Find a man within your age bracket and start something with him. It will work.”
I listened. The next guy that came my way was only three years older. He didn’t have it all but I took him on his vision and dreams to make life better for himself. I supported his dreams financially, emotionally and directly, if there’s such a word. But just when he started finding his feet on the ground, he started changing colours. I fought for that relationship with all my might because for once in my life, I’d help to polish a man. I’d held the hand of a man and walked with him to a destination he could be proud of. I polished him yet he left me behind and went for another woman who had always been in the shadows.
Erica was a liar. Even those you polish also go away. I was thirty so I gave love one last chance before thirty-two ended. All the men who came my way were looking for quick fixes. You could see it in the way they talk to you and the way they acted around you. I was too old for that so I brushed them aside. On my thirty-second birthday, I blew out a candle on a little cake I bought for myself. That light went off with whatever was remaining in my life. I wished myself a happy birthday and also told my stars to stop throwing men my way because the curtain had been drawn on that chapter.
I met max. He was a divorcee with three children. He wanted a relationship but he didn’t want kids and didn’t want marriage because he had seen enough to still commit to marriage. I told him I was done with love because there was no point. He convinced me to lift the curtains for him and I did. He was a good man to me and he came with the truth. He was straightforward with what he wanted and I found that alluring so I gave him a chance. I was thirty-three and was no longer looking for love or marriage. I was just there having fun with Max.
Just three months into our relationship I got pregnant. I didn’t get the memo well. When he said he was done giving birth, I had the impression that he has had a vasectomy. That was the wrong impression I had. He was fifty-five and I didn’t know what to tell him or how to announce the pregnancy to him so I decided to do the most mature thing; “I will go in there and get rid of it without telling him. After all, he doesn’t want it and I don’t want it too. So what’s the point?”
A day before I went in I had a mind change. “I’m not getting married because the men are not good but what about a baby? Can my own baby be bad to me? Never! I will have it.”
To be fair to Maxwell, I decided not to keep it from him. It wasn’t even possible for me to keep it a secret so one day after shuperu, I told him about it.
He went mad. “Are you a child? How can you allow this to happen to you? I thought you knew your way around. No problem. Get rid of it.”
That day, I realized the two of us had a common problem. We both didn’t know how to communicate well and instead of asking questions, we filled our emptiness with assumptions. I assumed he had a vasectomy. He assumed I knew what to do. The two of us were a cocktail of messed-up adults. I told him I wasn’t going to get rid of it because it was equally mine. He told me to count him out of it because he has had enough. I told him, “No problem. I can do it all alone and be proud of it. After all, it’s mine.”
I had a daughter I named Euthalia. Euthalia is a Greek name for a flower. My own flower in my little garden. Maxwell disappeared after that conversation and I never saw him again. Not as if I was looking for him. I never called his number and he never called mine. I wasn’t angry with him. He gave me a daughter and I was grateful. When men failed me, even those I polished, it was a daughter who came to put the smile back on my face. I looked at her and promised her a lifelong journey of friendship and love because she was all I had.
I don’t know how Maxwell got to know about her. Three months later, he was at my doorstep coming to claim what he rejected. He came with a few family members to meet mine and apologized for neglecting us. He wanted to make things right because he couldn’t cut off his own shadow. He could only say it with words but couldn’t use reality to prove that the baby wasn’t his. I accepted his apology. After all, he was the father. He started providing for the child and came to visit often. Whenever he came around he overstayed. Sometimes I had to beg him to leave because I wanted to close my doors. Something about the baby changed him and made him glued to us. He didn’t have a girl so the sight of a baby girl got him enchanted. I was grateful for his presence until he started talking about marriage.
“I’m a divorcee. You’re single. We can make it work again. I’ve been a horse, forgive me and let’s try to make this work for the sake of the baby.”
I said no.
He has been pushing for it since that day.
Our baby is one. He’s still begging for marriage. He’s doing that through my family and through my friends. All of them want me to say yes, for the sake of the baby. What about my sake? Did the baby tell them she needs a father who’s married to her mother? The previous arrangements still stand. I’ve seen enough to know that men are not good for me. I’m not going to pretend just because I had a baby with one of them. Babies won’t remain babies forever. If a baby brings us together, what becomes of us when the baby grows up?
I’m not ready to be a wife. I want to dedicate the rest of my life to
being a mother. If he supports, fine. If he doesn’t, fine. Life goes on and love for a baby without a husband is also love. I shouldn’t have a problem with anything but my family won’t let me be. My mom barely talks to me these days because, to her, it’s a shame to have a baby without a husband. My dad understands me but he wishes I could bend a little to make them happy. I want to make them happy but not in the way that they want me to. I pray they understand and leave me alone.
