I can’t believe what happened. I can’t believe Ola called me out like that. And how dare Mum bring up Femi—
Femi. I grip my duvet.
If you hadn’t got that stupid job in New York, we would be married by now. I was ready to give up everything for you. My home. My career. My family and friends. But no. You had a change of heart. You said moving to the Big Apple had made you realize that you weren’t ready to settle down. What happened, Femi? We had discussed marriage, even thought of baby names for the two kids we both wanted. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better partner. You were kind. Attentive. You made me feel beautiful. How could you throw away everything just like that?
Curling my hands into fists, I push them against my eyes. Come on, Yinka. It’s been almost three years now. I’m praying to God for comfort, reciting Bible verses in my head until I calm down a bit. Suddenly, I remember something.
I clamber out of bed, grab my laptop and climb back in again. After I returned home from Kemi’s baby shower, I had needed a bit of reassurance, so I typed into Quora, What are the chances of meeting a guy and getting married when you’re a thirty-something woman?
And hey, what do you know? I’ve already got an answer. I hope this will make me feel better . . .
Julia N. King, feminist and proud
If you think that your chances to find a man and get married increase just because some thirty-something woman on here tells you about her experience, then you must be naive. That’s like me coming on here and asking, “What are my chances of living till I’m eighty?!!!” And why set a deadline for yourself? The last time I checked, one can get married at any age. The fact that you’re asking this question in the first place tells me your values are misplaced and that you’re one of those desperate types that needs a ring to find happiness. Well, newsflash, woman. We’re not in the 1950s! Start by loving yourself!
Upvote 22 Share
I blink. “Wow.” And she got twenty-two likes.
Obviously, women don’t have to get married to be happy or find value in themselves. Well, at least, that’s not why I want to get married. I always just loved the idea of spending the rest of my life with someone I made a vow to and building a home and family with them. So does this make me a bad feminist? Well, according to Julia N. King and twenty-two other Quorarians, yes. Yes, it does.
I type the same question into Google. An ad appears at the very top of the search list: What are your chances of finding love? Take our free quiz today.
Curious, I click on the link. A message pops up.
Waiting for a new guy to show up in your life? Well, fear no more! By taking this quiz, we’ll determine when you’ll meet your next boyfriend based on your personality. So, what are you waiting for? Take our free quiz today!
Under normal circumstances, I would run a mile from something like this, but after being publicly prayed for, I think it’s fair to say that things are far from normal right now. I click on the button and begin the quiz. It’s multiple choice.
Question 1
To date, how many relationships have you been in?
A. ○ So many I can’t remember
B. ○ Two or more
C. ○ One
D. ○ None
Next
I click “C.” Femi is my one and only boyfriend. Well, he was my boyfriend.
Question 2
How are you around guys?
A. ○ Confident and carefree
B. ○ A bit hesitant
C. ○ Super-duper shy
D. ○ I rarely talk to guys
Next
I drum my fingers on my laptop. Now that I think about it, I don’t really have a lot of male friends. I went to an all-girls secondary school and sixth form, so I didn’t have much interaction with men in my age group until I started uni. Even then, I still didn’t make a lot of male friends. Well, there was Jon, the guy in my lectures who later became Ola’s boyfriend, and shortly after, her daughter’s father. But he was more Ola’s boyfriend than my friend. So I guess the only reference point I have is how I was when I first met Femi.
I remember the day I met him like it was yesterday. It was at a small gathering that Rachel threw for Gavesh’s twenty-fifth birthday. It was Gavesh’s older brother, Sanjeev, who had invited Femi—they’re best friends. During the evening, Femi and I got chatting. I don’t think he approached me with the intention of making a move—in fact, I think he said something along the lines of, “Can you pass me a napkin, please.” But two hours of solid conversation later, we were talking like old friends. It was so effortless, I didn’t even notice it happening.
“Do you mind if I get your number?” he asked as I shrugged on my coat to leave.
“Who, me?” I pressed a hand to my chest. It was only then that I noticed how attractive he was: taper fade haircut, light stubble, cinnamon-brown skin.
Suddenly, I felt jittery and nervous.
Femi laughed and handed me his phone. I could barely type the numbers in—I couldn’t believe someone as gorgeous as him would take an interest in someone like me.
That same nervous-excited feeling stayed with me for our first few dates, constantly thinking, What’s the catch? Pinching myself in disbelief.
“So, in that case, B,” I say aloud, clicking on the button on the mouse. I think that around guys, I’m somewhat confident but a bit hesitant.
I carry on with the quiz, answering a few questions about myself—but why do they need to know my ethnicity and age, though?—and I hit the “Submit Answers” button with a loud exhale. Come on, Yinka. You’re not applying for a job. I cross my fingers anyway.
It doesn’t work.
“Five point five years!” I gape at my results. That means I’ll be, what, thirty-six, thirty-seven, by the time I get into another relationship? I know I’ve always said I’m happy to find love at the right time, but come on, five years is way too long.
Pushing my face toward the screen, I read the report explaining how this number was reached.
You got: Who needs a man?
According to your answers, you’re the type of person who takes a laid-back approach to dating and values long-term relationships. Since you’re not signed up onto any dating sites and tentative about joining, we can only assume that you’ve got other priorities in your life right now, and if you have to wait 5.5 years to meet that special someone, then “so be it,” is your mantra. We admire how independent you are. You don’t need a man to be happy.
I slam my laptop shut. The Internet isn’t helping. I drag my fingers through my kinky hair, raking it up and down.
What if Ola’s right? What if I am the problem?
Okay, maybe not the problem. But there might be some truth in the idea that I am stopping myself from finding love. And if I don’t want to suffer more public humiliation, then I need to find a man in time for Rachel’s wedding. I need a plan. A plan with clear aims and objectives, like the ones we produce at work.
I fetch my notebook and eventually find a pen at the bottom of my bag, before returning to bed. With a fresh page open, I jot down the title, “Operation Wedding Date: My plan to have a date for Rachel’s wedding.” I inhale. I already feel better.
The next thing I do is draw a table. At Godfrey, every time we begin a new project, we draw up a plan with columns for “objectives,” “tasks,” “deadline” and “key performance indicators.” Within a matter of minutes, I’ve finished.
OPERATION WEDDING DATE: MY PLAN TO HAVE A DATE FOR RACHEL’S WEDDING
OBJECTIVES
TASKS
DEADLINE
KPIs
1. Meet a guy in person
? Make an effort to speak to any single men at Rachel’s engagement party
? Next Friday
? I exchange numbers with a guy
2. Meet a guy virtually
? Sign up to online dating if I don’t meet anyone at Rachel’s engagement party
? End of Jan
? I connect with a guy I’ve met online
? We exchange numbers, speak on the phone and go on a date