TILL DEATH DO US PART...

If a bill was passed at the national assembly to reconfigure the words of the marriage vows, guess who would be at the forefront, holding an oversize placard, grinning for all she’s worth and shouting, “Yes! We must!” with such passion that the people beside her would ‘shift small’ (you never know when madness starts).
“Well, not everything though”, I would say when given a chance to speak. “Just the last part; the part that reads ‘till death do us part’”.

Reason being that to me, there is such finality in those words that remind me of a sensation of suffocation like a ball of cloth shoved into my mouth and my nostrils covered. The words make me suddenly realise “hey, you mean I’m stuck with you forever and ever and...dare I say it...ever? What if I need a break?”

I was at a friend’s wedding recently and was seated quite close to the front pew just so that I could provide moral support to my friend. She was radiant in her white ball gown, elegantly coiffed hair and a smile that could light up the whole of Nigeria if PHCN decided to go on strike. She looked happy, expectant, her eyes painted roses on her husband’s face. Sometime during the vow sharing, I even felt a sting in my eye. I had to dig my nails into the fleshy part of my palms to keep myself from crying. My friend was about to become another person’s wife; no more gossiping about girls stuffs like who’s selling the hottest pair of shoes, no more single talking, feeling sorry for awkward guys when they came up to say hi, no more...single stuff.
Then the Priest spoilt everything by announcing in a sombre voice, “till death do us part”. My friend and her husband repeated after him. Then they turned around to face the cheering crowd.

Needless to say, it was at that point that I lost my dreamy smile.

I kind of wished that the priest had scrapped that part and said something like, “you both will live together forever BUT whenever, you need a break you can take three days off max. Now repeat after me.”
It would have made a lot more sense. ‘Till death do us part’ sounded like a constriction; like someone had handcuffed both of them, swallowed the key and said, “you can now enjoy yourselves all you want.” What would be the point in that?
In that instant, I started to think of both of them leaving for their honeymoon immediately after the reception, not able to keep their hands off each other as they explored their new status as husband and wife. I thought of both of them getting back to real life; to performing the same ritual everyday – wake up, breakfast, office, dinner, make love, sleep. Perhaps this would take about a year before a baby arrives then the time table would alter slightly. I thought of her waking up each morning to the same face, on the same side of the bed, wearing the same night gown in the same room. Then I calculated at least fifty years of that.

Sheesh...thinking about that is causing my heart to race again.

What would happen when I got married? I mean, of course I have a choice to remain single and happy but many things are working against me. One, my mother would never let me sleep in peace if I chose that; the last joke my dad told me was that he was going to collect my bride price then send the ‘payer’ down to Lagos to claim his prize. Of course, we both laughed together but I had a feeling daddy was giving me a deadline. Two, I really would like to spend the rest of my life with someone special, ‘someone to annoy for the rest of my life’ like I put it, have a baby or two and do stuff that mothers do such as taking pictures when my children lose their two front teeth and showing the pictures to their girlfriends or boyfriends when they are older. Three, it will be nice to grow old with a friend who will find it funny when I say, “look, you have more white hairs than I do!” and who would actually think me a woman who never ages ( I wish).
But then what if two years down the marriage I needed a break sort of like a mid-term break? What if I wanted to just spend three days out hanging with the girls like old times, drinking glasses of Chapman and chewing the cucumber slices off my drink, wearing shorts and an ankle chain on the beach and singing at the top of my voice when I forgot that proper ladies don’t do such? Would any husband indulge me in a mere three days of my fantasy? Any?
As a single girl, I could make my own time table; I could work when I wanted to, gossip with girl friends when I please, get away from home when my head is full and my creativity is at zero level, take a trip to wherever my budget allows and basically, be a bird.

Only recently I spoke with a friend of mine about my worries. He seemed amused by my overactive imagination; the look on his face said that he found it childish. In fact I am pretty sure he said something like that. He is single and maybe getting ready to settle down. I thought as a guy he would feel the same way after all, guys were more likely to be frightened by a woman who said, “so, when do you think you will be ready for a commitment?” In fact the best way to break up with a guy without leaving any mess is to mention the word ‘commitment’. It will be amazing the way he will disappear like vapour into the atmosphere. Back to my friend...I expected him to second me, a high five maybe or chop knuckle. Instead, he stared me in the eye and told me that he would never allow NEVER ALLOW his future wife out on any vacation without him. You should have seen the way my mouth dropped open.

What did that mean then? Was I imagining everything in my head or was there some other problem my subconscious was probably not letting on that I needed to uncover? Was I in the 2 percentile of women who are terrified of the words ‘till death do us part’ but still want to wear that lovely Victorian pure white stone-encrusted embroidered ball gown with pancaked face and a smile that could put the sun to shame?

For now, I think my cure would be to start watching more romantic comedies. It seems to me that all this while I must have been watching them in the reverse or only in my manufactured dreams.