A CYNIC'S GUIDE TO GETTING HITCHED - EPISODE 2

Introspection


It’s another Saturday, I should be getting ready for a wedding but I’m decorating cupcakes which are due for pick up in an hour. They are cakes for a graduation party that one of my clients is throwing for her niece. Graduation parties; another unnecessary social gathering! I find it hard to understand the constant effort to make a money spending spree out of every little incident.

Unless that graduate is from a well to do family that has a job in the family business open for them, I see no reason why they should celebrate coming out of the relative protection of a university campus to the vast, uncertain world of job seeking graduates. You only have to read the newspapers to see that those hiring are looking for people with at least 2 years’ experience; how’s a fresh grad going to invoke that?

Let’s hope this enthusiastic graduate has a strong entrepreneurial spirit and know-how to skirt the job market in favour of starting their own business. Judging from the school curriculum, that’s highly unlikely. I’d advice the aunt to save the money for the cakes to help finance the difficult days ahead but then I need the money for my own uncertain world.

I’m almost done when Ayitey knocks on the front door and saunters in without waiting for a response. He’s tall, dark and has slightly bowed legs that lend him a care-free sort of gait. His hair is closely cropped and he has facial stubble which he likes to play with from time to time.

I’m rarely late for anything but on the occasions that I am, unlike most of my male friends, Ayitey would never be alarmed that I’m not ready. It’s mostly because he’s always late for everything himself and probably also because he was raised with 5 sisters and almost all his close friends are female.

“You’re early!” I’m surprised.

“Yes, I had to drop my mother and sister off at a funeral close by here so…” He puts his car keys on the kitchen counter and picks up the icing bowl which he proceeds to empty of its little left contents.

“I’m almost done,” I tell him.

“Where’s your mother?”

“Off to a funeral,” I answer and then chuckle as a realisation hits me. “I spend my weekends attending weddings and she spends hers attending funerals.”

“Yeah, when we’re sixty, we will be the ones attending funerals and our children will be the one’s attending weddings,” Ayitey predicts.

“That’s assuming we ever have kids. At the rate we’re going, I am becoming highly sceptical.”

“You’re sceptical about everything, it’s your thing,” he retorts with his mouth full of caramel icing.

I’m done decorating the cup cakes and I take off my apron after packing them into their delivery box. I already took a shower so I’m just going to change from my jeans and t-shirt into something more appropriate for a wedding. I don’t see why I can’t just wear the jeans. Just then, the owner of the cakes arrives, picks up and pays for her package.
“Ayitey, be a dear and wash the dishes for me while I go and change. Although I think that one is already clean,” I nod at the now almost spit shined icing bowl in his hands.

The wedding is a rather simple affair, no church and only about 40 people. It was on the lawns of a hotel and the magistrate who also happens to be the father of the bride oversaw their self-written vows after a short prayer. This took all of 15 minutes. The reception was set up very close to the floral arch where the vows were taken. It was a linear setting with all rectangular tables arranged short end to short end.

I don’t know the couple personally but Ayitey went to primary school together with the groom and they were roommates in University. Ayitey insisted I go because he wanted to show me that not all weddings were pointlessly big. He also wants to take some pictures and frame them as a gift to the couple.

We stand around with virgin cocktails in our hands trying to mingle with the other guests. We are waiting for the bride and groom to be done with their photo shoot (Ayitey snuck in a few shots before the hired photography started) somewhere on the premises before sitting down to eat. Ayitey nudges me in the ribs, and nods towards a woman who looks only a few years older than me. She’s being led by an older woman; I can only assume is her mother, towards a forty something year old man with a greying beard. She introduces them eagerly and leaves them to get acquainted.

“She’s the bride’s older sister and she’s unmarried,” Ayitey discloses. “Her mother probably does that to her at every social gathering. It’s almost like she’s saying, ‘daughter for sale at a discounted price’.”

Something about the scene disturbs me. It’s clear that poor Ms Discount is uncomfortable with the situation but there’s also a small glimmer of hope in her demeanour, like she hopes she can get married already so people will leave her alone.

My mother has never pushed me on to a man like that. I suspect it’s because she’s secretly happy that I’m unmarried yet because it means I get to keep her company, but who’s to say the weight of society on her shoulder won’t get her to start very soon. This thought disturbs me till we leave the party.

Ayitey drops me off at home and I invite him inside to have some Moringa tea. There was so much food at the wedding party, we both over ate. As I learned from a Chinese client of mine; there’s nothing like hot tea after a huge meal to hasten digestion.

The ceremony was short, sweet and minimal but a social gathering nonetheless and I wish I hadn’t gone. It also left me with an uneasy feeling. On the ride back I kept seeing Ms Discount in my mind’s eye and a little voice in my head kept saying, ‘that’s you in a few years’. I am bizarrely disturbed.

We’re sitting on the bar stools at the kitchen counter. There’s a spare cupcake on the potholder which Ayitey has been eyeing since we got back. I slowly push the cupcake towards him.

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” he sings happily and proceeds to eat it. How he manages to keep his figure with the appetite he has I’ll never know.

He takes one bite and looks at me while he chews. “Ok, so I know what’s eating the cake; yours truly,” He puts his hand on his chest, “but I don’t know what’s eating you? You’ve been out of it since we left the wedding.”

“Do you suppose that woman is unmarried because of something she does?” I don’t need much prompting to spill my guts to close friends.

“You mean like an undesirable character trait?” Ayitey clarifies.

I nod.

“I don’t think so. I know her, she’s very nice but I think maybe she was too focused on her career to worry about marriage. It could also be that she doesn’t really want to get married. There are people like that, they prefer the solitude,” Ayitey replies and attacks the cupcake again.

“But it is a possibility that a woman can remain unmarried because of her attitude,” I persist.

“Wait, you’re not talking about yourself, are you?” Ayitey throws the last bit of cake into his mouth, washes it down with the tea before he addresses me.

“You are the most fantastic woman I know…” he begins.

“But you wouldn’t date me,” I cut in.

“I would, in a heartbeat but we both agreed...”

“Yes, I know we agreed we didn’t feel romantic towards each other but if you really wanted to date me you’d have pushed for it…”

“Whoa, slow down, what’s going on with you? You have never been unsure of yourself.”

“Maybe that’s the problem maybe I should second guess myself sometimes. You know once I told Mansa when one of my exes broke up with me and you know what she said to me? She said “guys see you as their buddy not as their woman”. I mean everybody thinks the default attitude of women is dependent, helpless, needy and even though men complain about these traits all the time they must secretly like it otherwise why deal with it?”

“Because we usually get nothing else, you know the saying, ‘can’t live with them, and can’t live without them?’ That’s what it refers to. Ayitey consoles me.

“She could be right, the reason why I’m single is because I think I don’t need a man the way other women need them and I give off that vibe. Men are not completely clueless, they do feel certain things and maybe they feel this.”
We’re both quiet for a while. Ayitey looks at me, looks away, looks like he’s about to say something but sighs instead.


Finally he says softly, “I don’t know how to handle this breaking down version of you.”
I chuckle, “I’m not breaking down, I’m thinking aloud.”

That seemed to put him in a better frame of mind. “Ok, thinking. If there’s a problem, what do you do, you fix it, right? Are there things that you think you need to fix about yourself?”

“I don’t, but according to my friends I do and obviously, they know something I don’t because they’re the ones in long term relationships.”

“Yes, but you know longevity doesn’t necessarily mean success.”

“I know, but the idea is to get a long term relationship and madness is doing something over and over again and expecting the same results so I’m going to change strategies and see if that works.”

Ayitey laughs heartily, “To hear you say it sounds like you’re talking about a business move.”

I laugh too. He’s right.

“Ok, if we’re approaching this all business like then I suggest we do it all business like, get me a pen and paper,” Ayitey takes charge.

I have an ingredients list notepad and pen I keep on the counter so I give that to him.

“For lack of a better word we’ll use ‘fault’ so Fault Number one…”

“Not feminine enough,” I offer.

Ayitey’s hand hovers over the sheet for minute before he says, “That’s… ok,” and writes it down. “What else?”

“Er, Mansa also said once that she thought I was too picky,” I recall.

“Ok, too picky. What else?”

“And you once said that I was jaded,” I accused Ayitey.

“Yes, I did. It’s hard to take you by surprise. It’s like you always know what’s going to happen,” he admits and writes it down.

“Oh, and not enough drama.”

“Really?” Ayitey asks.

“Ok, before one of my exes broke up with me he mentioned how totally uneventful being with me was. He said, and I quote, ‘you’re unlike any girl I’ve ever dated. Everything is so relaxed and straightforward with you. I don’t have to guess what you’re thinking at any time. There’s no drama.’ I thought it was a compliment until two weeks after that he tells me he thinks he’s in love with someone else. He’s presently married to that someone else and as far as I know she gives him plenty of drama.”

“So you’ve concluded that men like the drama.”

“Think about it, they complain about how they don’t understand women and how everything with women is all touch and go but they keep dating these women. They must like the drama or at least the ability to complain.”

“But I explained before that it’s because they can’t get anything else,”

“But that can’t be true because my ex had me, Ms No Drama, but he left me for a drama queen. Maybe they’ve had it that way for so long; they are unused to anything else. The drama is a familiar, comfortable space.”

Ayitey chewed on that for a while, “I don’t know. So what, you want to become a drama queen?”

“Well, not take it all the way just a little booster for my inner diva,” I joke.

Ayitey guffaws. “I can’t even imagine you tripping over something inconsequential.

“But, I’ll have to. And I intend to learn from the best. As soon as Mansa comes back from her honeymoon, I’m going to start my lessons. But in the interim, there are three other things on that list.” I prompt Ayitey to read it out.
“Not feminine enough, too picky and jaded.”

“How do we make me more feminine?” After a few seconds of thought, Ayitey actually gives me an answer.

“Embellish!”

“Embellish?”

“Yeah, you’re simple, straightforward, no frills, what I remember most about living with my sisters is that they had frills; lots of frills. Metaphorical frills, fabric frills, everything frilly. You need lower necklines, shorter hems, skirts with slits, accessories, more conversations about subjects that no one really cares about like the cost of hair extensions, the colour of your nail polish, yeah nail polish; you need to wear that too.”
Ayitey is enjoying this way too much.

“Ok,” I say to reel him in. “So starting from now, we have begun the process of transformation.”

There’s a look of keenness in Ayitey’s eyes and I am just plain scared. This could very well be the end of life as I know it.