Yesterday, he asked me to marry him.
And aye… my life… it flashed before my eyes.
I suddenly saw all the chapters of my life. The scenes replaying themselves, from when I was little to the big-boned lass that I am now. In a blur, my wants, needs, inadequacies, dreams, everything… they were all before me. It was like I had been injected with a paralytic, my body stiller than still, but my mind up and doing crunches.
That question though… it was like a wicked mosquito bite, jolting me out of a deep sleep.
It was after work and I was about to take the bus that would take me directly home.
“Wait right there” he said. “I am coming to pick you up”
And so it began.
It was over drinks. Me, water. Him, some cocktail with pomegranate in it.
Because this post is not about the beauty of the moment, I will not describe exactly how it happened.
The point is that he asked.
And I said no.
And why the heck not?
Around me, people get married for loads of reasons.
Age – If only we knew how relative and mind based this very factor is. But lemme just say, Gimme gimme oh gimme a Wole Soyinka over a Rob Kadarshian anytime, please!!! A Charles Bukowski over a Beiber!!!
Material stuff – Money, cars, good clothes and all the types of food that we can eat… a life without apparent suffering. Then again, when the chips are down, and trust me, they will come down sometime, what will keep you warm at night? The silverware in your kitchen chest or plain ol’ conversations? And who says there is no laughter without an abundance of cash? Boom.
Something to do – When it just seems like the right thing to do. Every other thing is in place, so why not just tie the friggin knot? Throw me a wedding party people, and let me juuuump over the broom!!!
Gotta please the parents – Now this is the one that really annoys me. We forget that they have lived their lives. And when do you start to live yours? On your way to hell, or while you’re dining with Odin and Freya in Valhalla?
For me, marriage is like a transfusion of sorts. Where the blood in me isn’t enough for me to live and vice versa for him. So we share our valves, such that blood that flows from him rejuvenates me as it enters my system and the same for the blood that flows from me to him.
A Siamese connection of sorts.Where there is one and the other, but somehow, there is not one without the other.
Marriage is me becoming what and who I want to be. It is me being useful to another person in such a way that I am also buffering myself. Marriage is not the end of anything but the beginning of many things. Marriage is music and wine and coffee and books and playing scrabble and cooking together (or maybe me cooking and him eating it all) and him shaving my legs and me shaving his beard. It is loud laughter and meaningful sex and competitive farts. It is fights and disagreements and screaming sessions, without losing respect for each other. It is madness and sanity and curve balls. It honesty and truth so extreme and openness so open that you forget that the word ”shuttered” exists. It is him taking a shit and even though it stinks as hell, I don’t let it stop me from going in there and telling him what I think of the new neighbour.
Yes… mischief is bae!
Marriage is nakedness, so to speak.
But you find that lots of people go into it wearing one item of clothing or the other.
That is why I said no.
Because despite the fact that he is a great great person and a dear friend, marrying him would subject me to a very very very ordinary life.
I fear ordinary.
My walking around naked at home behavior does not tally with his “proper” behavior. I wear clothes only because I have to so why oh why should I burden myself with clothes in my own home when I am not cold and when there is no one of consequence about? If I couldn’t sleep at night and he couldn’t sleep either, would we damn the “consequences” and “hey, let’s drink wine or whatever” and find something to do or would one person pretend to be sleeping to avoid talking to the other? Will we be comfortable talking about senseless things as opposed to always talking sense? Is he like me, will he try to make up before bed, or will he sleep with a grudge?
His definition of marriage… it is not the same as mine.
I am fire and ice, he is tepid water.
Blimey! I had to say no.
It has occurred to me that this is the second time this year that I am saying no.
But, I am not in a hurry at all.
A definition like mine, is all I ask.
Until then (if ever there is such a thing as then)… I shall sip tea, improve on my dancing skills and enjoy the blessings that saying no has provided me with.