Now We're In A Relationship

Women love definitions, we love to put labels on everything so it sits right. We want to know where we stand in our relationships with the opposite sex so we read meanings into everything. Things just don't happen; every event and conversation is inadvertently linked. Or so we think.

We go with a guy to a wedding and automatically we see ourselves as his girlfriend. He invites us for a service at his church and we start wondering if he's just parading us to the sisters in church as a sign for them to keep off. We go for a family function, to which he has invited all his friends and we jump to the conclusion that he wants us to meet his family. Laughable right!

The mind of a woman. Navigating this treacherous minefield is an exercise in futility. You never come out alive so why bother. Trust me; you don’t know the half of what goes on in our minds.

Here I thought that women were a rare breed. We were special because of our antics and our skills in making mountains out of molehills; our ability to use tears and sometimes blackmail to get what we want out of each other and our men. This belief was firmly shattered by my new found Prince Charming. I never knew Princes read meanings into everything!!!

An accidental broadcast inviting my contacts for a church event awoke the sleeping attentions of my Prince turned Stalker. He automatically assumed I was coming around to his advances.

"So when are you picking me up and which service are we going for 7am or 9am?"
Say what? "I'm not going anywhere with you" was my immediate response.

And so began my back and forth discussion at 3.30am on a Sunday morning. He sure knows how to pick the wrong time to start a conversation.

This was not his first attempt to get me to go to church with him. Every time I said No to his ‘marriage proposal’ he always countered it with "Let’s go to church together, to show you I’m serious”. I didn’t know going to church together, for a guy, was a sign in the dating world for serious contenders.

"I've always said we should go to church together and finally you've invited me, why are you taking it back? Or you don't want to go with me because you're going with someone else? Why are you treating me so? Why is your heart closed? Remember, I don't have a car so I'll be waiting for your call."

"Dude, it was a broadcast, sent to all my contacts. Quit deluding yourself and go to bed".

He finally hung up when he realized I stopped responding and snored loudly into the phone.

"I’m going for a naming ceremony, please come with me. I’ve told all my friends about you and I want to introduce you to them". Sometimes I wonder if I should learn his language so as to communicate better my disinterest in ever going anywhere with him or my utter distain and disrespect for him and all that he stands for.

But seriously, who came up with this rule that going to church together makes you a couple? Or going for occasions automatically makes you a prime candidate for a relationship let alone marriage. If anyone has seen that rule book kindly scan some pages as evidence.

For a lady, running off tangent and reading meanings into everything, is mildly acceptable just because of the way we are wired; but this attitude from a dude, it’s totally unacceptable and reeks of desperation.

Please correct me if I'm wrong.

The Wooing

It was a late Friday evening. The shops were closing for the day and I was rushing to make it to the last store down the street that still had lights on. I was in luck as I barely made it and walked away smiling carrying my dinner and breakfast.

Unbeknownst to me, I was being followed.

In the movies, the guy follows the girl home and tries to get her number. This is always the first step in wooing. It was late and in a hurry so I obliged.

Let the games begin.

2 days after the nighttime encounter, we had our first sighting. He looked ok. Except for the bloodshot eyes, smokers lips and a few bad teeth (me and bad toothed men *rolling my eyes*), I decided there wasn’t any need to seat too close to the exits – we just might have a nice evening out after all.

I wish I had sat close to an exit. I could have feigned going to the bathroom and disappeared. It was like staring in a very bad Nollywood movie, the type I would break the disc and flush the remains in the toilet. Thank God it was dark; I rolled my eyes so many times I thought my eyes would roll out of their sockets.

Within minutes of landing in our seats, my ears were ringing. I knew his life story, his parents’ names, why and how he lost his job, his age, his desire to get married, and his failed relationships (all within the same street!). I ordered a Chapman and hurriedly downed the drink so I could hasten up the entire evening.

His ramblings finally landed on Amaka, his love that got away; the poor dude couldn’t wrap his head around what went wrong. Being the love doctor that I am, I devoted my time to discussing his love interest all in a bid to get the evening over and done with.

Then out of nowhere he says ‘So, what do you think? I want us to have a serious relationship leading to marriage’. Say what? Yes, I was taken aback cos barely seconds ago I was consoling the poor chap about the love of his life and now this!

If you were the last man on earth I would still say HELL NO, my evil twin screamed inside me, but I offered a polite smile, said no.

I was finally free. I was blunt enough to express myself politely and clearly and I was really proud of the fact that my alter ego remained locked up. In the real world, No means No. apparently Prince Charming had a totally different idea of the word NO.

And so it began.

Guy, Am I Sick?

Woo me goddamnit.

Those were the words running through my mind 5 weeks ago on a faithful Saturday evening as I lay in bed chatting with a toaster. I have been told more often than not that I am not very chatty when it comes to the opposite sex especially when the guy is flashing his green light of interest. I can’t help myself; I clam up when overtures are made.

So I am laying there listening to this guy go on and on about his family background and I am thinking ‘dude, enough with the personal history, this is just day one, leave some stories till tomorrow’. I was being polite so I yawed and said I needed to sleep.

Week 4 - nothing's changed. It was the same old rehashing of family history and interrogating me about my family. I call it an interrogation just because every conversation follows the same pattern:

– How are you?
- How is your mum?
- How is your brother?
- Is your dad back in town?
- Did you go out today?
- What time did you come back? You really come back late o. Then the laugh.

I was slowly getting pissed, but I survived.

Today he came for a visit and we went out for drinks. I was a little excited just because the wooing game was kicking off. Wooing is the fun part I’m told. You get all the attention, you are babied, all sins are pre-forgiven and you get GIFTS. I am yet to know a lady who does not love gifts (so sue me). I have had the opportunity to witness the wooing of some friends firsthand and also partaken of the chocolates and seen the perfumes, the iPods, iPads et al - I was expectant, my time was finally here.

I took my time and strolled casually to his car feeling all fly with myself in my short jumpsuit. I barely survived the interrogative questions and tone of the questions. My alter ego worked frantically to squash the embers of my slowly building annoyance and kept repeating, ‘keep calm lady’ as I rolled my internal eyes and sighed silently.

Just when I had reached my breaking point we were back outside my house. As I was making a hasty retreat with some lame excuse I can’t remember, he told me to hold on a minute that he had something for me. He reached into the back seat and I said ’You didn’t have to get me anything’.

It was then that I saw the black nylon bag. As he handed me the bag I looked inside and was frozen in shock by the contents. Inside the black nylon bag was one loaf of Wheat Bread, one pack of Hollandia Milk and one bottle of Lucozade Boost.

I looked at him then and he was all smiles feeling accomplished with himself and oblivious to my facial expression. I just couldn’t bite my tongue so I asked, ‘Guy, did I tell you I was sick?’ he really looked confused by my question so I recalled my manners said thank you, good night and went inside.

So much for my wooing. I guess girls can add my ‘package’ to the lists of gifts received during the wooing period. Mtcheww.

I’m out.