I’m single, very single. So single, in fact, that my mum is probably about to call up a church committee to come pray for me.
It’s not like I’m keeping some persons dangling. This is the kind of single where there aren’t even any prospects.
But you’re a man hater, Maureen, said random person of the internet. I read your posts and WUEH! Moto wa kuotea mbali.
I’m sorry…. Wait, what am I saying? I’m NOT sorry. I love men; I just know very few good ones.
My mum asked me when I’ll introduce her to my boyfriend. I told her I don’t have one. She asked if I’ve been looking. I almost laughed at that one.
You see, girls like me, the ‘certified men haters’, don’t have to go looking. They find us. Every insecure, sniffling boy man with a hero complex finds us. They want to ‘change’ us, fix our ‘broken souls’, fight our ‘demons’ , blah blah blah. They’ll come with their ‘I miss u’ texts, their ‘niambie’ texts, their ‘knowledge’ of what makes you tick, and when they say coffee date, they’ll mean soggy fast food chips and a soda. They’ll want surface conversations, like what you’re having for supper (waoh, can I come over?) or how cold it is (do you want me to come and keep you warm?). It won’t matter what you say or how you say it, they’ll always find a way to make it less.
At my age the pressure to be half of a unit is intense. I’m reminded daily that I’m not getting any younger. It’s not that I haven’t had chances to change this narrative, I just choose not to. You see, I use my mind in all things, especially in matters of the heart. My mind demands to be stimulated. My mind wants to get past the tedium of small talk and dig deep. My mind refuses to settle for mediocre.
When my mum asks me why I’m single, I tell her I’m working on myself. What I mean is, in addition to working through my many faults, I’m trying to accept the idea that maybe what I’m looking for no longer exist. Maybe I just happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
So I’m single, and mingling nowadays is just too fucking exhausting.