This Is Forty: File Under Breaking My Parents’ Hearts
Throughout my turbulent thirties, I was doused with judgments and blanketed insults from family members when it came to my never-ending single status. Nigerian parents can be pushy and insensitive when it comes to the subject of marriage and my folks were no different. They tried in vain to hook me up with men they deemed eligible for their only daughter.
None of the suitors my parents presented to me came close to capturing my attention, however, mainly because they all had a knack for calling between 3 am and 4:30 am on Saturday mornings. Their obvious disregard for the time difference that separated us was a huge turnoff, not to mention an annoying start to what could have been very fulfilling days. That’s when I respectfully begged my parents to refrain from anymore matchmaking.
Once I hit my mid-thirties, it was game on! I proactively tossed myself in the ring, but reeling in my Nigerian groom proved to be more challenging than I anticipated.
My first contender was a childhood crush I grew up idolizing. He enjoyed being my one and only, but wasn’t mature enough to step up to the plate. He was always half way in and the fact that I was the only Nigerian (black) girl he had ever dated made me perpetually paranoid. After discovering that he had casually asked out an acquaintance of mine (who was Chilean) during one of our breaks, I dropped him like the bad habit he was. We are both still single, and it’s my life’s mission to settle down before he does. Don’t ask me why — it just is!
Bachelor Number Two came into my life thanks to an ambitious set up. I was all in because I was barreling towards forty and survival mode was kicking in. He was nice and attentive, but try as I might, our dots never quite connected. I hated myself for this one, however, his unrefined accent and simple ways presented a hurdle I couldn’t quite get over. It made our intimate sessions tedious, especially when he routinely vocalized his contentment — great for him; killer for me. My friends accused me of being immature and I agreed with them. Finding a responsible man who adores you can be a challenge in today’s world. It seemed like I hit the lottery, yet, there was a sinking feeling that accompanied my winning ticket. I apologetically jumped ship.
My last encounter was a harrowing affair. He was a friend of someone close to me (remember Bachelor Number One?). Dating him was refreshing because I was pushing forty and the pressure was off. I just wanted a companion, someone I could hang out with. I had no expectations except that he be good in bed . . . and he was.
The major problem was the relationship was tinged with the residue from our respective exes, and I was emphatically reminded of how annoyingly incestuous the Nigerian community can be. Everyone is organically connected to someone and I eventually folded under the pressure. Plus, his obsession with our native food “which was cute in the beginning” eventually lost it’s charm when he insisted that I cook him his favorite dish every Sunday afternoon. I know Nigerian men have a longstanding love affair with ogbono soup and pounded yam but whoa! We broke up and he got married nine months later to a girl thirteen years his junior. I wasn’t heartbroken. He was seven years younger than me, and proof that I still had a lot of mileage left in me yet!
My track record with Nigerian men isn’t encouraging but I am certainly not ruling out the possibility that I might marry a handsome, successful Igbo man who, regardless of my “advanced” age, is willing to make a life with me. He would have to prove it by ignoring the thunderous protests of his immediate family and that is not an easy battle to wage, let alone win. So, it is highly unlikely that my mother will be customizing head wraps and cowrie shells for my wedding party anytime soon. This isn’t the end of the world, but simply a shift into the “acceptance” stage. In the meantime, I am imagining how Nigerian attire would look on a handsome but pale-skinned British bloke — who happens to be my current assignment.
