This is a return-match.
Before some people call Kabiyesi now and orchestrate kata-kata in the palace.
My sister Ona had this post up a few days ago; Letter to my future husband. I found it honest and exciting at the same time, so I decided to borrow a male suit and a beard and reply, hoping to be a little like a man. It will be nice if you read her post first,then come back to this.
Dear Future Wife,
I just had to write you too.
It’s just that I’ve talked so much about you in the last few months, yet I don’t feel like I know you. You see I’m Nigerian and I live in Nigeria so I face the same thing you do, probably worse…but I know you wont believe it. My Mother is the Chief persecutor, she wants to see her Grandchildren badly. Sometimes I wonder if she is even looking forward to a relationship with you or your ovaries. She has told all her friends, so they help her bug me. The slightest mistake I make these days, I am told for example that
“See how tired you look, if only you were married now your wife will take care of you tonight”
The truth is that what a man needs after a hard day’s work is a warm bath and dinner. My mother is trying to convince me that she no longer has boiling-water-skills and that dinner is strictly for her and her husband.
As I drove home from work (that’s where my best thinking occurs), I began to wonder why I didn’t think of writing you first. Women are forward sha! (Kidding, lets not fight before we even marry).I have burning questions too.
First question: Do you think about me as much as I think about you? It’s not that I’m bored, jobless or obsessed with the thought of you; it’s just that I can’t escape it these days. I am tired of being the groomsman or attending baby dedication parties of colleagues. They pat you on your back and say
“My brother, when you marry and born a child, you will know then that you have become a man”
I really don’t take it lightly when everyone behaves like I have your reproductive organs in my boxers, I am a man, I tell you. However, I guess what they mean deep down is that I prove this manhood. Everybody hooks me up, but I am fed up of plastic girls. You sound nice and decent though you didn’t enclose your photo in your letter. You should have. But then again, photo-shopping skills these days are hellish.
I am a real man, not sex obsessed but I do not pretend it doesn’t matter to me. Are your breasts real? Your hips? Buttocks? Don’t get me wrong, I will love you whatever shape or size you are, I just do not like what your fellow females do these days. You know what I mean.
I’m not hiding. I am everywhere you go, I just think you overlook me sometimes. Like you have a Prince charming idea of a husband? Big house? Big salary? I may or may not have. All I promise you from the bottom of my heart is comfort. Sometimes I even try not to be too ambitious in earning money. I like the way my mother puts my Father in place by saying
“Do you know how many trousers you brought into this house? I built this empire with you!”
Don’t tell me that too frequent though, I hate nagging. But it is fine is say it once in a while, forget that I may look offended. It is in my DNA to have a bloated ego once in a while, you are permitted to deflate it when need be.
I cannot answer your question on tribe. All I can say is that my mother doesn’t really care at this point what tribe you are, neither do I. To be honest, on your expiry date question; the earlier we meet and marry the better for us. I hear you women have something like a biological clock. What time does yours say now? You didn’t say. Again, it doesn’t matter to me. I just want a woman I can love and who will love me back.
You say you have good looks. I’m thrilled about that let me confess. I want to show you off with pride sometimes. I also fear inside that I shall be overtaken by younger men if my tommy gets flabby and pot-ed later on. So lets strike a deal, that we shall work at remaining attractive to each other until old age catches up inevitably with us.
You are wrong about my being a valuable commodity even at sixty. Let no one fool you, we men also get to some point of bachelorhood where we are no longer first choice. So I can empathize.
Don’t be afraid to be successful. I love go-getting women. People tell me though that if you have lots of money and degrees you wont respect me. We can work that out cant we? Don’t be afraid of snakes and heights, I can buy you a zoo and buy the Eiffel tower for you. (Kidding, Ice prince inspires me sometimes). I cant tell you of my own fears, I am a man.
On our finances, truth is that you may inherit a funny crop of people called in-laws. They will want my money and when I no longer give it out as frequently as I used to, they will turn to you and blame you. I do hope you can live with that, a lot of women do. Whatever change they perceive in me after we marry becomes your fault (except the good changes). It is the stark reality…but irrelevant.
Since this is a first letter, I’ll stop here because it’s probably best if I don’t overwhelm you with a ton of replies. I may have brought in other issues, but I chose to restrict myself to the questions you asked. However, what is your church-going like? All I ask is for a woman who will pray well for me, I hear it works wonders-a wife’s prayers. This doesn’t mean you should go and be sleeping in church ten nights a week in the name of vigils. Trust me, I will visit your pastor and show him hubbycious-fire. Don’t even form that spiricoco look, I will buy you lots of gifts which will include jewellery and you shall wear them all.
I look forward to reading from you again. You sound bold, I like a bold Naija woman. Not those ones playing hard to get. When we see, please don’t dim your green-light. I’m such a good
driver toaster I don’t stay on yellow or red once I see green.
Now that I have replied you, we have some correspondence we shall show to anyone who harasses us again. Can’t they see we are working towards it? If you still feel like i’m far away or not bothered about meeting you soonest, I leave you with that line from OJB Jezreel’s song “…Girl remember, i’m the one who’s searching”
Your future Husband,
Adamu Chukwuma Adekunle.
Original post by Ona Ilozumba. Blogger at www.tobeehonest.com