GIRL UNINTERRUPTED

I had a marital arrangement post made for me on this space last year, one that identified me as a heterosexual woman looking for a gay man to get married to. The reactions to that post were largely negative – from those who didn’t think I was old enough to not want the things I said I wanted in the post, to those who were suspicious of my motives – and these reactions, I believed, were rooted in the doubts those who expressed them must have felt about such an arrangement.

And so, I decided to write this series, hoping that maybe through this, you may understand why I made that ad, and why being twenty-two years old when I made that decision doesn’t matter.

First of all, I am a very strong feminist. Not even God can tell me that I am inferior to a man.

I am also pro-choice for abortion, because I am a realistic person, and because I understand that a child isn’t an easy responsibility and people shouldn’t be forced to have them.

I am for LGBTQIA rights, because I believe that everyone should do whatever they want with their lives, as long as it doesn’t cause harm to them or to others.

And in that vein, I am polyamorous. I like good looking men, whatever the colour, race or sexuality. And whenever the opportunity for mutual attractions develops, I indulge myself. I don’t think I know how, or really want to ever be monogamous. Honestly, I don’t think monogamy is for me.

I have not been in a relationship since early 2017. Why? Well, it started out as me discovering myself. However, it has developed into me just not liking anyone well enough to try. Or maybe, no one has tried to make me like them well enough.

***

I surf the internet regularly, searching, and stumbling on lots of interesting stuff. And it was on one such day that I happened upon Kito Diaries. Going through it, I found myself feeling both happy and surprised that there was such a thriving platform for gay people in Nigeria.

I didn’t waste time with diving into the stories told here. I read them all, the good, the bad and the ugly. Sometimes, I cried at the injustice of it all. Sometimes, I laughed uproariously at the hilarious antics and the slutty narratives in some other stories. And the ones with love in them made me “aww” the shit out of my life. Getting into the lives of the people behind these stories was some of the best experiences of my life.

I also read the little fights in the comments section, sometimes understanding it, sometimes not, but thoroughly enjoying the vibrancy these fights expressed about a people who are determined to live and not just exist.

***

I developed an aversion to marriage over the years after seeing and hearing the many stories of women getting the short end of the stick when it came to their unions with their husbands and their in-laws.

The more I learned about how marriage works, the more I realized that I would never know how to be the typical Nigerian wife. Because, honestly, I have way too low a tolerance level, just too little patience for some of the bullshit these wives are made to endure in the name of marriage. I don’t know how to be meek, subdued or submissive. I don’t know how to sacrifice my individuality on the altar of marriage. I encounter some of the stories of these women, the horrors they have to endure – and I affirm more and more to myself that I could never be that woman.

And so, I grew up never really factoring marriage into my life plans. Until I decide to have children, everything about me has been tailored for me, with no goals to share me with any man in a way that gives him authority over me.

However, I am very aware of the role families play in the lives of marriageable adults, and if I can help it, I’d rather not disappoint my parents. I want my mother to do the whole mother-of-the-day thing with my nuptials, to feel unnecessarily important and tremendously happy, even if it’s just for one day, even though she has come to realise that I am not the type of woman who’d stay married for long.

***

It was a dilemma for me, because I was torn between preserving my parents’ dignity and being happy. Left to me, I am unmoved by what society thinks. I am very shameless when it comes to my choices versus the expectations of the people around me, and I am very intentional about my decisions. But with this particular decision came with how it would reflect on my parents, and I wanted to do what was right for them – and for me. I kept thinking about this, wondering how I would do what I can for them to be happy, and for me to be happy too.

And then, one day, what appeared to be the answer provided itself to me. I was reading the “Dear KD” section, and I saw it. Out of the many requests that all these other gay men and women had made for arranged marriages to help them survive their situations came this idea for me to seek a similar arrangement. Considering that I’m not the slightest bit homophobic, I figured marrying a gay man would be the right course of action, for so many reason, which include the fact that it’d be mutually satisfactory for me and him; the existence of a hubby who’d be jealous and domineering over the things I’d choose to do with my life would be eliminated; and we’d both have our freedom in the marriage.

It seemed like the perfect solution. I told my friend about it, and he said it was worth a try. And so I did. Seeing as anonymity is a way of life for everyone in this community, I decided to develop an anonymous identity: opened a new, incognito email address and used it to send my request to Pink Panther.

After the post was made, I followed the reactions and there were mostly negative. Reading through, I began to feel like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea like I thought it’d be. I mean, what had been so obvious to me was now not-so convenient, in light of all the furious doubts that the men met it with.

That first day passed, and it was as though no one welcomed the proposal, because no one sent me any message, expressing interest. Then the next day passed, and the next, and the next, until weeks rolled by. And still, no message.

It was very disheartening. I had to accept that no one else thought my idea was bright or trusted me enough to want to consider what I was proposing. Rejection is tough, but I dealt with this one.

Then, one day, a month after, I was going through my email when, without thinking, I clicked on the incognito email. It opened. And I was startled by the surge of messages that were in it. Open-mouthed, I clicked one open and then another and then another, slowly coming to the realisation that these were the messages I’d been waiting for since the past month. Apparently, I didn’t know that I had to switch email accounts to get the messages on my phone. I thought they would all just pool up on the screen, regardless of account.

That day, I was both pleasantly surprised and relieved by the torrent of messages. I hadn’t been stupid after all for making that proposal – at least, these people sending these messages didn’t think so.

I sat down to carefully read the mails. Anyone that came off as being unserious was ignored; I didn’t sit down to type that small essay for someone to respond with “hey, what’s up” or “sweetheart, how far” in an email.

So, I only responded to people whose response showed that they passed Basic English and letter writing in school. I just LOVE people with good diction, and writing sometimes reveals that personality in a person.

In total, I got about 30+ messages, and I responded to about twelve of them. There was even a lifestyle magazine that reached out, wanting to interview me. To those who sent me their numbers, I also sent them messages on WhatsApp. I got chatting with them, and subsequently dropped about two more, because of how monosyllabic their responses were. I absolutely abhor people who chat like you’re pulling teeth from their mouth.

Then, another guy dropped out of our interaction because he’d found another woman, a queer woman, who he was working out things with.

And I dropped yet another guy because he revealed that he wasn’t really serious; he was just curious over what my intentions were.

Then two were based outside the country, and about four were in Nigeria, and these were the ones I continued interacting with. We talked about life goals and plans for the future. One of them had political ambitions, which I knew wouldn’t match my lifestyle. I wouldn’t want to ruin his career because I did something wrong, or because I couldn’t be the perfect politician’s wife. It was sad to let him go, because he was fun to talk to.

Then there was the one who sent books to me. I absolutely enjoyed reading them, even though I’m a novel person.

There was the one, older than me by about four years old. He was one who I went past the chatting phase with. For the purpose of this series, his name will be Thunder. I liked Thunder at first sight. He was personable, good looking, with a nice voice and really good diction. He of course insisted on a video call. He was a good conversationalist. He came off as very outgoing, and when he noticed that I was neither irritated nor put-off by how gay his gist was, he began to get comfortable with me, which was cool because I already liked him.

Then he told me he was Muslim.

Written by OB-Girl