My Royal Wedding experience…

A few years ago, an old friend called me up. He’s best friends with a guy I once dated. He wanted to know if I was seeing anyone because he had a friend who was having a hard time finding the right kinda girl. No deformity, no weird fetishes, his friend was just a really nice guy with bad luck, so he thought of me.

Of course, I was very flattered. I asked, “Is he serious? Abeg I don’t have power for games.”

“Yes, he’s dead serious. He doesn’t want games either.” So he sent the guy my number, and BOOM! we hit it off. The chemistry was instant. We genuinely liked each other and we never seemed to run out of things to say or talk about. All this was at a time when I used to hide from people because I was ashamed of the issues I had with school. I had taken steps in the right direction, but I was a full decade behind my mates. (Till today, I still hide, but not as much anymore).

Anyway, one day, I gathered courage and told him about school. To me, that was my biggest deal breaker. He listened intently and when I finished, he asked, “And?”

I said, “Well, that’s it.” He looked puzzled while I tried to convince him there was a problem where he obviously didn’t see one. I was doing well now, he said, and that’s what mattered.

Brethren, after that conversation, I began to pick out baby names in my head! I thought he was perfect. He was such a gentleman, a little traditional, but a very decent person. One day, while we were in his house, he joked about bringing wine to my father to make his intentions known. On the outside, I rolled my eyes and hissed like I thought he was being silly. Inside me though, I was moonwalking with joy and twerking with gladness. By my calculations, if we had a November wedding later that year, I could give birth to my first son Deshawn by December the following year. Then I would have the twins- Shaniqua and Treyvon – two years later. Sadly, I didn’t know that was the last conversation we would ever have.

He joked about it again. When can he see my dad? How often does he come into town? I said he doesn’t come into town.

“Oh?” He thought it was weird. Does your mum go to see him often? How do they cope?

And that was when I realised where his confusion came from. I told him off-handedly (maybe too off-handedly), “Ooooh… my parents are divorced.”

He paused for a long moment. I wasn’t paying attention. If I had been paying attention, I would’ve sensed there was trouble, but alas, I was too busy thinking about the kids; De, Trey and Shay. His demeanor changed and he started asking serious questions.

“How long have they been divorced?” I did a mental calculation and told him.

“Ok… that’s not too long ago.” He sounded relieved.

He pondered some more, then said, “So… as the children, what steps have you and your siblings taken to reconcile them?”

*RECORD SCRATCH*

Huh??? Rekkon-whaaat?

The question drew me out of my day dream. He asked again; What are you guys doing about the situation?

We’re living in peace, that’s what we’re doing, I thought, but I knew I had to carefully word my reply. I was used to people being shocked at my divorce jokes… my divorce jokes were like Yo Mama! jokes, but about divorce. He wouldn’t have laughed. Yet, how was I supposed to explain just how very bad things were without revealing embarrassing details?

He said he was disappointed in my attitude. In our culture, divorce is blah blah blah… separation is blah blah blah… the white man has normalized blah blah blah. I wasn’t moved by his speech. I was too busy living in peace.

The rest of the conversation was awkward. In the car, on our way to drop me off at home, he was brooding. We said goodbye like we were going to resume texting each other in a few minutes, but I never heard from him again. Our mutual friend later told me that this guy’s parents would never have allowed him “marry a girl from a broken home.” I was sad, yes, but not surprised. He was the second guy I was losing to that particular deal breaker. I actually appreciated him because the first guy strung me along for a while.

Last week, I saw an article about the wonderful implications of Meghan’s wedding/marriage for black women worldwide. It was all BS. I don’t think her marriage did any extraordinary thing for black women. I’m happy for her like most people are. What thrilled me today was that a prince, a whole, REAL LIFE prince, married a girl from a broken shattered fragmented disintegrated home. If a lot of people die, she actually has a shot at being queen (I think). Or maybe not, I don’t know.

So that was my best thing about the Meghan and Harry wedding… and maybe for other girls like me who have to jokingly bring up the topic of divorce early in a relationship to gauge the guy’s reaction.

 

Dear Ladies,

So his parents are Knight and Lady Selfriteyos P. Ricks of one backwater parish in the middle of a village?

His dad is a red cap chief and his mother is a lolo?

They are church elders?

Directors in SPDC?

Good for them… but if Queen friggin’ Elizabeth and Prince Charles can let Harry wed Meghan, surely, SURELY, his parents can get over it!