Believe it or not, getting married has become a race of some sort.
It’s nice, when you are in high school, to watch your mum prod and poke your elder sisters about getting married but right after they are out of the house, young lady, it’s your turn! You get the raised eybrow and the gently probing questions…the mention of one male friend gets your mum excited and you get dragged to every wedding because you know, there’s that belief that there are many single men at weddings waiting for you to walk through the door and have them fall to their knees with your radiating beauty and theories on quantum physics. Don’t forget the subtly masked statements from aunts that remind you success in your career without marriage is equal to…erm..nothing.
You might even get subjected to stories of how everyone in the family met her husband, how they lowered their standards and of course how they clinched the marriage deal and you start to wonder if you are as skilled as these women that have been successful in getting their men to propose.
Often times, especially if you are from Africa, you may find yourself in a mysterious situation where you are expected to work nothing short of a miracle. All through high school and university, your parents drum into your ears “Don’t talk to boys!” “Don’t let any boy touch you or take you out. If he touches your arm, you will be pregnant and disgraced”. As the obedient daughter, you obey because hey, no one wants to be disgraced. Fast-forward to your graduation from the university and you get the mind-boggling question “So where’s your future husband?” Huh???!!! “Mum I obeyed all your instructions and never spoke to boys!” “Well, it’s time to start speaking to them now; at least by next year, you should be married!” One year? Oh dear! So the race begins!!!
Sometimes, it’s not even family pressure alone that brings about this ‘race’, it’s the fact that we have friends that succeed in getting there before we do. So we tie up our shoe laces, throw our digging tools over our shoulders, our arrows not forgotten and with determined looks on our faces, we march out into the world to determine to hunt men down. It doesn’t matter who he is; a man is a man afterall- a three-legged species that we have to take home as our prized kill and bask in the envy of our friends and approval of family memebers. Unknowingly, we become a combination of Miss “I want a man, I don’t care who or what he is” and Miss “Even if he is not the one, I will make him the one”.
This race has become rampant and I can see many women are joining the race… dying to get to the finish line before everyone else, nicely dabbed and well, some are even soaked in the cologne called Desperation. The sad thing about this is the ripple effect it has. Owing to our own actions, we now live in a world where many men believe they are doing us a favour by getting married, a world where many men treat us like toys because out of our eagerness and need I say desperation, we offer ourselves as play things for entertainment. We draw no lines, no boundaries and really, we accept every unbecoming behaviour- cheating, lying and even abuse in all its forms. Some of us even abandon the important things in our lives all in a bid to win this race. I once read the story of a woman who closed down her successful business and reopened it on a smaller scale just so she could get married as it was popular belief amongst her friends and family that men were intimidated by her success.
I am not saying no one should aim to get married. If you find love, by all means, go ahead but if you are still in God’s waiting room, hoping for a man, believe God is enough to handle it. Don’t go out armed with desperation and cloaked in the designer apparel by ‘Easy and Available’.
Remember, men can smell desperation; it’s a trigger for lots of abuse- physical and emotional. Let’s take a break from the race ladies. As a matter of fact, let’s start walking- pick up a few items from the ‘Dream and Vision’ store while we are enjoying this leisure walk. Don’t forget to stop at the ‘Love Yourself’ kiosk and of course get new clothes from the ‘Strong and Beautiful’ store. We can wash off the cologne of desperation and instead get soaked in ‘Apple of God’s Eye’.
Till next friday my beautifuls! XOXO