It gets trickier with age. You are often subjected to snide remarks from elderly relatives. They compare you to the married daughter of so-and-so. Sometimes you wonder why you keep on pulling out the joker card. You recall your 20s with a peculiar fondness, and all the singles meetings you faithfully attended in Nairobi. Always armed with hope, sharp ears, a thick King James Bible and luminescent yellow highlighter pen.
When the preacher insinuated that the kingdom service was the master key to walking down the aisle, you added more for good measure. Of course you immediately blotted out any time-wasting evening outings, coffee dates and what nots, and replaced all that time with church activities. So it was prayer meetings on Monday evenings, visitation ministry on Tuesday, choir practice on Wednesday, cleaning group on Thursday and Fridays on your agenda were kesha nights.
Naturally, your weekends were spent milling around church for services, hospital visitations and handing out witnessing tracts. Within no time, some lanky dude noticed you, and you noticed him noticing you.
However you felt he had no sense of fashion and he kinda walked funny. You immediately deemed him incompatible based on that. To ward off simple minds would only net other simpletons, who indulged in shallow discussions. So you went on a shopping spree and bagged a haul of second-hand novels from the street vendors. You also got yourself a thesaurus, so that if you met someone who would engage your brain muscle, you would throw in some complex words. Hopefully have him think you had the perfect combo of cute, candescent and clever.
A fellow Christian suggested that you stop wearing rings because a ring symbolised some sort of commitment. This was scaring off Mr Right. So you hastily flung the rings away like they were on fire, and kept your fingers free.
Still…the years rolled on without Mr Right in sight. You shook off every reminder of your spinsterhood and the ever deafening tick of your biological clock by applying for further studies out of the country. But people bolted their doors shut and there was no casually knocking the neighbours door for an idle chat, a slice of cake or a pinch of salt, without appointments.
Then a girlfriend flaunted the idea to you, of seeking Mr Right through cyberspace. How did I not think of it before? You smacked your head in disbelief. The swiping right and left, gazing dreamily at tanned chiseled blonds with hypnotising granite eyes, was really happening. You wondered how surreal it would be if you marched down the aisle with one of these handsome guys. You begun to chat with one and everything seemed to fall in line. He fit the qualities you were looking for in Mr Right.
Height, looks, well-travelled and career-driven- check. He seemed sweet and spoke kindly, until he broke down what he was really looking for in a mate. You see online dating is pretty much like a two-way interview process. He needs to feel enslaved, needs to be ordered around like a servant. That would include the fish-net stockings, with knee-high black stilettos, a flowing down weave and red hot lips. You recoil in shock at the cruelty your eyeballs are subjected to. The next guy you chat with is elderly; a silver fox.
His receding hairline is interrupted by shocks of stubby white hair at the back of his head. Could he be the one? You have to wonder about the stigma attached to girls marrying guys old enough to be their uncles.
Dealing with folks back home unleashing names like fossil, ancestor, kandeshi, concubine, sugar baby and so forth.
Not to mention the cross-generational relationships where everyone will assume you are a gold-digger. He could get hitched even tomorrow, but you have to sign a pre-nup.
He slowly unravels himself as a certified psycho, and you think that some of the behaviour that you watch on Investigative Discovery: Stalked — someone is watching is at your doorstep. He constantly calls and chats on endlessly which takes a good chunk of your time. He gropes you like you are a ripe mango he would like to swallow whole.
He morphs into this little boy when talking about his exes, and how much they hurt him. He expects you to constantly offer therapy sessions and stroke his ego like you are some kind of shrink. Then it turns really ugly, the phone calls at any hour of day or night are amplified, he parks his car outside your apartment with its lights on and waits like a predator getting ready to pounce, you get harassing emails.
You decide to ignore him and he eventually stops his nonsense and vanishes from your life. You will be in charge of the funding, he in charge of negotiation.. You get turned off by listening to his grown ass self constantly complain about his bills and expectations for you to shoulder his rent, food and clothes.
After all, wewe ni dame wa majuu… lady from the diaspora. Obviously, you are unwilling and unable to slide into the role of cougar. There are those well meaning European bachelors who have felines as their housemates, and are so ready to settle down with a human.
You foresee heartbreak and are about done with waking up at 4 am to stare in the darkness and think angry thoughts about past relationships that went awry.
Thus you deactivate your accounts and hand everything over to your Creator. You swipe right…to serving Him with all your heart because you love Him and He is worthy of your praise and adoration.
You swipe right…to advancing His Kingdom because you would love to see your relatives and friends come to the knowledge of His saving grace. You swipe right…to being a kind person, to accepting you are already whole and need not to be completed by another. You swipe right…to being content in every situation, whether or not Mr Right comes to be by your side.
You swipe right…to walking upright before Him because your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. You swipe right …to helping the needy and less fortunate in society. You just want to take territories in your heart and experience all that the world has to offer.