Out of the blues, he looked at me and said if he had to choose a wife again, he’ll still choose me.
It was hard to believe because I’m not your conventional bride. I must have failed over 70% of rules handed over by our aged mothers.
I don’t do his laundry, I think it’s unfair; considering we both work 9 till whenever everyday of the week, I shouldn’t use my saturday to do laundry, we should both do it or each man to his own tent. Mama thinks I should, “good wives wash for their husband” “mama, good wives, who don’t work outside the home can wash for their husbands”. She hissed at me. Thank God for Haier Thermocool Washing Machine.
I’m not your conventional bride, I have my opinions and I air them. One mama thinks I’m too obstinate; a girl shouldn’t be this opinionated. ‘No mama, a girl should have a mind of her own like every intellectual’. Well, I speak my mind all the time. I want fairness and I demand for it. Marriage means we will hurt each other, but it doesn’t state that one party should moan in silence, if he hurts me, I talk. If he doesn’t yield or ‘hear’, I talk louder…don’t ask me what that means.
I am not your conventional bride, I’m not afraid to disclose my financial status. Another mama thinks a woman should hide some of her income from her man as men can be mean; I don’t think so. Sharing my income with him is no big deal, he has my ATM card password, I have his. I won’t use his card without telling him, he can’t use mine without informing me too and each party has a right to say no. I can deal with that, it’s a joint account I can’t handle…for what? why? How?…it can’t work! Hold your money, I hold mine. When I need some, you give and same here.
I am not your conventional bride, I don’t believe a man should pay all the bills. I am not an acquired object, you can’t pay all of my bills like I’m an helpless dependent, I acquired skills that I may exchange for money. And I earn money so I may take care of myself, indulge myself a bit. Plus, I think it’s too much power to give the other person, he who pays the bills holds the reins.
I am not your conventional bride, I don’t pound yam. I can’t, I won’t and I’m not willing to learn. I tried when I was younger; my heart would beat so fast and would threaten to jump out from my mouth. I intend to keep the heart pumping and rooted where it belongs, not in my mouth. So I don’t pound, plus I think the men are stronger, they should pound. Pounding exerts so much strength. If he wants pounded yam so much, he buys. He also can’t pound, why should I?
I should learn to adjust to marriage; they told me. I should learn to pound, “men love good food”, (like I don’t love good food). I tell them marriage is unique and no one manual is fit for all. You may need to do your ‘oga’s’ laundry day in and out and pound for him, it doesn’t make you less of his wife or second-class woman; it just doesn’t work here in this home.
And before you judge me as a failed wife, may I declare that he thinks I’m just right for him; there must be something I’m doing right for him too think so. I better keep at it!