I cannot say enough how much I love weddings. A beautiful, symbolic ceremony for two people who have pledged themselves to each other as a sign that there is still goodness in this world.
The gaiety of attendees: the bevy of beauties – and not-so-beauties – colourfully attired and sitting or standing there like so many summer flowers swaying in the wind;
The false happiness of the single friends of the couple, when their jealousy is all too evident; the forced laughter of their married friends ringing out louder than it should, all in a bid to show a united and happy marriage, when their roving eyes tell of a desire to shuck off their current beaus and pounce – predators most of them;
The spread of meals, the tastefully or at least gaily decorated venues, the spleandour of it all. A wedding really is a beautiful thing.
This December, just like all the preceding ’ember’ months, has come with its own curveball, lessons to be learnt, stories to tell: I have three Exes getting married over a two week period!
My cousin, after expressing surprise, actually said to me “I am afraid to ask just how many exes you have.”
“5,” I told her anyway.
Ex #1: She is finally getting married to a man she has been with for five years, the man with whom she has had two beautiful daughters.
Thing is, I have met him and he is a stand up guy. We hang out or chill from time to time depending on how we are feeling, and in credit to him, he has never tried discussing her with me apart from the occasional “You sabi how madam matter dey be.”
“What’s ur December like?” She had asked me. We were riding in their car, the smell of chicken thick in the air. I bit into a KFC crispy chicken breast, chewed and swallowed before answering. At the mention of December, Christmas automatically comes to mind so I said I wasn’t sure until I saw my schedule for the month.
“We are rectifying our marriage in December and you have to come o,” she said.
I swallowed the next bite of chicken without chewing. “Congratulations! But you know I will be there nau. We are family, shebi?” I enthused.
“Will you be bringing someone? “ She asked casually. Too casually.
“Any particular reason you are asking?” I asked, cagey.
“It’s just that some of my friends are making hairpieces so in case you are coming with someone, you can get for her.”
I remembered something I had heard a long time ago that had been attributed to her.
We had been at a wedding, separately, and she had sat away from our usual crowd. After the wedding, I had called her up to say we could still stay civil and roll with the same crowd, because I felt sad for her sitting by herself while we had fun at the table she would have been. Next thing I heard was that I had seen how hawt she was looking on the day and had realised what I was missing so that phonecall was a play at getting back with her. Wow!
So when she asked that question, I suspected it was an underhand jibe at my being single while she was getting married. And when I learnt the wedding is a ‘strictly by invitation’ event, who can blame me if I still think that is the major reason I was being invited?
“Of course I will be coming with someone,” I had said.
“What’s her name?” She had asked.
“Whoever I turn up with at the wedding will be that person.” I told her.
Her husband just sat quietly through it all and concentrated on his driving.
Ex #2: “So our wedding is December 10th.hope to see u thre.RCCG dominion parish(aka ghlass house) Church service(11am).reception beside RCCG dominion cathedral. Trad is at my house.8th december”
We had dated right out of secondary school. Then I went to school and two years later she followed suit.
I think the words are “When we are together you have all of me, when we are apart you have my heart.” Errmm, that didn’t quite play out for us. We drifted apart emotionally, though we remained friends.
Years later, we would work together. Actually still work together, she just does not fly.
When I got her text message, I thought it was ex #1 so I asked if the date had been moved. You see, they are both Chi-girls. Only when she replied did I realise my error, and I was genuinely happy for her; I still am.
I already have my suit ordered for Ex #1, and I am waiting to see my schedule for December before I pick up the aso-ebi for ex #2.
Four days ago, on a flight to Portharcourt, a colleague let it slip that another ex was getting married.
Ex #3: About this particular ex a lot has been written and, after all is said and done, I am still thankful to her for bearing me a son. Our son. The one really good thing in my life right now.
As with news that everybody knows except you, as soon as you find out or hear about it, that bit of news becomes the only thing you hear wherever you turned.
Almost everyone has asked me “How do you feel?” Each time I answer “What’s there to feel?”
If I am to be honest, there’s really no surprise there given what I know.
Someone went as far as to say I was sounding like a sore loser. Wow! She apparently missed the part where I broke up with her.
This post is not about me and my relationships, nor is it an indirect attempt at setting office for those who seek to get married sometime soon. For while I may enjoy the attention (and whatever other perks) that may come with such a claim, I doubt I have that much time to throw around – considering that I dated each of these women somewhere between 11 months and 4 years.
The truth is that, I cannot say enough how much I love weddings. A beautiful, symbolic ceremony for two people who have pledged themselves to each other as a sign that there is still goodness in this world.
More than that, though, is the closure this marriage of my exes brings to certain aspects of my life. They are out of my hair, yes?
Ex #4 is in a relationship that’s headed for the altar. I asked her why she wasn’t getting married this December too and she asked me if I had a cheque of N3million. I dropped the matter.
As for Ex #5, let’s just say she has refused to take a hint. I recently got a call from her sister over some random matter, and after our conversation she says to me “Would you like to speak to your wife?” I hung up!
PS: The trees carried on with their treeish lives—stately, except when they shed their silly dandruff of birds.
The day beauty divorced meaning, someone picked a flower, a fight, a flight. Someone got on a boat.
A closet lost its suitcases. Someone was pushed out, someone else in. The sun went down and all it was, was night.
And then it was daybreak. Life ana agaga.