Society may not talk about men having a ‘clock’ as much as they do with women, but it’s there. At a certain age, people start wondering why you’re yet to settle down. The bolder ones, like family and colleagues, ask direct questions. It starts with subtle remarks until it becomes a given agenda item any time you meet.
I was in my mid-30s, single and with a steady income. I want to lie and say I was with her because I felt pressured by my family to settle down, but I also felt it was time. Before I met Cindy, I had begun entertaining the idea that I would be the single man in their 40s.
She was beautiful, composed and focused. Cindy wanted to settle down, too, and in that way, our goals were aligned. A few months into the relationship, I could see a future with her. I wanted her to meet my parents.
It was an informal visit, but my parents asked my uncle and two aunts to join them. The aunties helped my mother prepare the meals. My younger sister also joined us. My family, especially the ladies, were excited to meet Cindy. I took that to be a sign that everything would go well.
I picked up Cindy from her place early in the morning so that we’d make it home by lunchtime. Fortunately, we had no hiccups on the way and got there on time since the only stopover was the supermarket.
Although it was a simple meeting, the excitement was palpable. My aunties, being the typical African aunties, had a small dance to welcome Cindy. Given the smiles, welcoming words, and ululations, the only thing missing was lesos or a red carpet. My family welcomed her with open arms.
We went inside, where my dad and his brother were waiting for us. After introductions, it was time to share a meal. We sat in the living room as Mum and my aunties served the rest of us.
“Auntie, these are wonderful chapatis,” my sister told one of our aunties.
“Thank you, my dear. Your uncle will never acknowledge it, but this was how I ‘got’ him,” responded my auntie.
We all laughed.
“Cindy, I didn’t see you pick a chapati. I know that one loves chapatis, too. I’m giving you a secret,” said my auntie jokingly.
“I don’t like brown chapatis, but I understand people have to stay away from lifestyle diseases. This one will eat what I serve him. I don’t have the time to make chapatis, with my busy schedule,” said Cindy.
“As a wife, you have to find time,” said my auntie as they exchanged looks with my mum and the other auntie.
“In my family, we just hire people to cook,” said Cindy.
There was an awkward silence that followed, and then my uncle, the family comedian, started telling people his funny stories. It took away the tension. Everyone ate as the conversations went on, and after an hour, all but Cindy had cleared their plates. My sister took all the other plates to the kitchen. Someone commented on Cindy’s slow pace, and she quickly pointed out that the stew was too spicy.
My auntie began to argue that the food was hardly spicy, but my mother interrupted her and apologised to Cindy. She went on to tell her that she would love to prepare dishes that Cindy enjoyed, so she should let her know the next time she would visit.
Eventually, Cindy finished her food and placed the plate on the table. Twenty minutes later, my sister took the plate to the kitchen. Cindy didn’t bother to clear the table. I could see the looks my aunties exchanged. Not surprisingly, the visit wasn’t what I had expected. We left later in the evening.
The journey from my home was silent. Something had shifted. I needed time to think through the afternoon’s events. I played some music.
“Babe, I don’t think your aunties liked me,” said Cindy.
“You didn’t give them any reason,” I responded.
“I can’t believe you’re taking their side,” replied Cindy.
“You were rude and unappreciative of their efforts,” I said.
“Was I supposed to pretend that I liked the food?” Cindy asked.
“Maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. There was no need for the criticism on everything. You know how older women are. Saying thank you was the polite thing to do,” I told her.
We had a heated argument the whole journey back to the city. I dropped her at her place and then headed home. Hours later, after the whole ordeal, I went to the second bedroom in my house, which I used as a home office. I found a plate and a glass on the desk. Cindy had been the last person to use the office earlier on in the week.
I remembered that she had waited for someone to clear her plate at my parents’ house. It made me wonder if I had overlooked particular behaviour in her. Coincidentally, she texted me at that moment. She was angry that I had sided with my family. For a minute, I wondered if I had overreacted, then I remembered her criticism of the food being too spicy, and then I remembered she often had Indian and Mexican food.
Mostly, I was angry because my family had put in the effort to welcome her. We dated for a few more weeks, but the relationship was strained. I could now spot issues in her that I had ignored before. My mother asked me about her a week later after the visit.
“How is Cindy?” She asked.
“She’s okay,” I said.
“Sometimes, humans feel the need to rush things because they took too long to happen. It can feel like there’s a clock. I want you to remember that some things in life don’t come with a warranty. You can’t easily get a substitute, so you need to make a wise purchase. I trust your judgment, son,” she said.
I knew it wouldn’t work out with Cindy, and I ended the relationship shortly after. The incident made me realise I almost let the pressure to settle down blind me into rushing into marriage without a good understanding of who I was committing to.
“Are you breaking up with me because of what happened at your parents’ place?” Cindy asked.
“You still don’t see that your actions were wrong, and that’s the bigger issue,” I told her.
“Did you want me to pretend?” Cindy asked.
“No. I wanted you to be appreciative. I needed you to read the room. Maybe use some wisdom while dealing with elders, Cindy,” I said.
Her lack of introspection angered me more, but it affirmed my decision to end things with her.
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