Obscurity after the Heartbreak – Part 2

Three years ago, I had completed my graduate education at a prestigious school. That accomplishment further solidified my “I don’t want a man, I only need a career”motto. I briefly dated two men – one while in undergrad and another in grad school – and I quickly concluded that dating was a waste of my time and maybe marriage was more like a fantasy than a possibility. Either I was going to get the man that shined when his attributes were jotted down on paper or I’d get no one at all. No one warned me that the pursuit of the one on paper would leave be emptied, disappointed, and heartbroken. If I ever hear the phrase “he looks good on paper”, I might take out the speaker. 

Anyway, I sha ended up meeting the-one-who-looks-good-on-paper through my friend, Timi. I wouldn’t ordinarily take advice or recommendation from Timi. You see… she is my friend because we were the only students from Nigeria during our university’s special orientation for international students freshmen year. From our first conversation, I calculated that we saw the world dramatically differently and in different circumstances we would not be acquainted. But that is the thing about having to school abroad – you end up forming friendships based on nationality rather than compatibility. Even though Timi saw the world with men in the center and worked all her life to make sure she would achieve one, she was harmless enough to maintain a friendship with. When she wasn’t so busy obsessing about which year she would get married, she could be so lovely. 

Over the years, our friendship dwindled down to monthly coffees – not because of work. But because Timi had finally “landed” the ultimate boyfriend – the one that was palatable to her parents in Nigeria, Christian enough to impress the church deaconesses, and educated enough for her to label herself as 1/2 of a power couple; she did not have time for me. Other women might take offense to this, but I was glad to be set free from hearing about her never ending desire to be wanted by a man. Two years after Timi and Mr. Perfect dated, she finally surprised me with a blinding diamond ring during one of our coffee dates. 

The strangest thing happened to me that day. As she divulged all the exciting details of the proposal, the surprise yacht party, the floral backdrop with the words “will you marry me”, her entire family being there, I tuned out and started hearing one stupid voice whispering “but where is your own boyfriend?”. It was as if I was momentarily bewitched. I was 28 years old and hadn’t given one serious thought to dating. I didn’t even consider myself as a woman in search of companion in that way. But that is the thing about not actively forging your own ideas and thoughts about societal assumptions: Did I not desire a companion or was I rebelling against the many parts of society that keep telling me that is what I should desire? Once this dilemma was posed to me, the wise thing I should have done was take the time to go reflect on it. Instead, I blurted out to Timi that I was happy for her and I “hope God will do my own too soon.” Till today, I cannot even explain when I became the woman that said such.

The statement flew out of my mouth awkwardly. I had never uttered such sentiment in my whole life. Timi was equally shocked and I expected her to tease me. In fact, I hoped she would crack the funniest joke to undo the uncomfortable moment. But instead her response was: “ah thank God you have finally grown up and realized marriage is the suitable thing for you since you’re nearing 30.” She said other equally annoying statements after this and before I could undo this alarm I set off, she started rambling about how her fiancé knew someone that looked amazing on paper and that I would need to temper my women empowerment speeches to impress him. In my heart, I knew this was a part of Timi that I generally didn’t respect and should have ignored. But, as I was now grappling with my relationship with dating and romance, I was not mentally equipped to decline her offer to introduce me to someone. 

Two months later, at their unreasonably flashy engagement party, Timi introduced me to him. I am still ashamed to admit that I decided I would date him long before we met. Once Timi sent me the surface-level details of his life, I decided that was all I needed to know. I used to fancy myself as someone who was different from her parents, someone who wasn’t classist, and didn’t care for someone’s background. A liar I was. You always think you aren’t something until you are presented with a situation that reveals your true self. The man’s details were too impeccable (on paper!) – education CHECK, height CHECK, ethnicity CHECK, career CHECK. It was as if someone hypnotized me and instructed me that once any man checks this list, I must grab at him rapidly and not even take one second to think. I felt this overwhelming urge to “cease the moment”, as if men of that stature were about to be out of stock. 

And so grabbing is what I did. The minute that man said hello, I responded “hi” and in my head I made the arrangements towards marriage. We spoke for 90 minutes and looking back I cannot even confess that we had scintillating discussions. He casually informed me about his educational background, which was his tacky way of trying to inform me that his educational status makes him king and when I also informed him of my own achievements, he did not return the same praises I rendered to him. A normal person would have taken this as sign that all might not be well, but I had already seen what was written down on this imaginary paper and that was what I was after. After surviving the most boring conversation on earth, Timi finally pulled me away to get the gist on “future husband”. 

I gave him a more glowing review than he deserved, but I also showed slight concern for his conceitedness and lack of vibrance. Before my critique could land, Timi quickly swooped in with what I now call words of foolishness saying, “is anyone perfect? So because he doesn’t seem impressed with you like you are with him, that’s why you are getting picky? Please stay focused.” For the first time since we met in university, Timi now felt like she could advise me on a topic of which I was a novice. I focused on internships, grades, and jobs and she focused on passing, getting a job that would be flexible enough for her to maintain her priority – finding a husband. For years, I was able to assume the position of mentorship for jobs and career and I indulged in the power dynamic that created. So when I found myself spiraling in this confusing desire for love, she assumed the position of mentor to her delight. 

Please don’t think I am blaming Timi for my poor decision-making. However, she is a star actor in this reenactment of my heartbreak story. 

I did not enjoy the first date, but I did not hate it. In my normal state of my mind, I would have erred on not pursuing him romantically but I was bewitched by a random strain of desperation. He treated the date as a continuation of that initial boring conversation. He divulged more information about his future career plans, his aspirations to become Minister of something when he returns to Nigeria, how his high-paying job rolled out the red carpet to woo him over, how he was single because he was searching for the perfect woman, and so many other vain and useless topics. Was I deterred no? I was even more motivated to land him, deceiving myself that he was a project I could refine during our relationship. In 4 weeks, I accepted his informal, mumbled request for me to be his girlfriend. Thus began the beginning of our tumultuous relationship.