It's Not Me, It's You

Today is Valentine’s day, in case you missed it. I’ve read my card, but not yet touched the chocolate or sparkling wine. That’s for later. Yes, no, we couldn’t be together.

The thing is that I’m already thinking of how to end it with the Man, because I don’t see his clan bringing goats and cows (actually these days it’s their equivalent in Kenya Shillings) to mine in exchange of me. We had agreed that the walk down the aisle can be done several years down the line, or even never, as long as the legal thing had been done so he’s not left free to ‘buy’ as many wives as he can afford. We had even set dates for the initial unofficial Meet the Family visits last December, before I suggested that we postpone for a later, unspecified date.

Now, in my gut, I almost know the Man is not the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’ve told him as much, got back the few things I had at his place, but he doesn’t seem to get it. I kinda am at peace with my decision. But there is a problem. Maybe up to four problems.

A man features prominently in my 5-year Strategic Dream. Not sure why I place him at number 2, while ideally, he would contribute to number 1. Well, there was no particular order.

Also, there is the fact that I’m 32 this August, and I think, over here at least, there is a fat chance that the probability of meeting the one you want to spend the rest of your life with gets slimmer as the numbers go up.

Now, I’m not sure I want to pray about this Man issue anymore. I feel like God has probably given me many chances already, but I seem to always have a reason why not this one (like passion, even). That is, when I’ve not been the one being given the boot. Which reminds me of my friend in college; B. B once told me and her room-mate at one point to “Shindeni tu hapo mki-date machali. Wakati mtapata malaika, mkuje mniambie ‘B. nimepata malaika, sasa nataka kuolewa!’”. Loosely translated: ”Go on, just date for fun, when you meet angels, come back and tell me ‘B. I have met an angel, now I want to get married!’”. Which would be my mum’s take too, though hers sometimes seems to border on the justcloseyoureyesandgetmarriedifhenotabusiveorjustgetababyalready! school of thought.


So, in the past few days, I’ve been thinking more in the line of how I’d live my life as Single PKW, if it comes to that. Or, by method of elimination (like, ‘he lacks passion’. Really), how to eventually settle for Mr. Good Enough if/when he comes along.