“What’s love got to do with it?”
Famous 80’s tune by Tina Turner, with 74 plays on my iPod or is this the current state of my ‘relationship’ with Femi?
It all seems to be slightly out of control. I have not agreed to be his girlfriend, although we have been on three dates now. However in the past week two complete strangers have inferred that wedding bells will be ringing soon. Have I missed something? Has my passive watching and waiting been construed as something else?
Everybody seems to think that a marital union is a foregone conclusion. This is amazing – I have only know him two months. Maybe I am too slow.
I am not even sure how to put into words how I feel, or more precisely how I do not feel. He is back in Nigeria now at a family wedding but I am not missing him. Is this strange, is this normal, is this how it is supposed to be? I hope not.
I expected – a spark of something. But instead I feel nothing, except relief when there are no more outing, phone calls or text messages. Is there something wrong with me? I sometimes wonder if my heart has been carved out and replaced with stone. I remember in the summer being briefly comforted by a verse from Ezekiel 36:26 I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. However this comfort was short lived – the leaden weight still sits in my chest.
I wonder if this is the reason why I feel nothing for this man? This man who appears to be kind, decent and thoughtful. He has a good job, has his own home, drives a good car and he is a Nigerian Christian too boot! He ticks all the boxes. In fact appears perfect – the type of man I have been praying for. However now that he is here – I am unmoved!
I wonder if there is something wrong with me? Surely I should recognise a good thing when I see it? Surely I would not be so foolish enough to let this man pass me by? There is nothing wrong with him. He has been the perfect gentleman.
Maybe I have been brainwashed by the images of ‘love and romance’ in books and television. Surely I must realise all those imageries are no real reflection of real life. Surely I must know that?
What exactly am I expecting? To be swept of my feet? How exactly does that work? The only time that happens to me is on windy days. Do I want to have waves of tachycardia every time I see him? Do I want butterflies in my stomach? Do I want sleepless nights and poor concentration at work?
I think I would like to laugh.
I think I would like to smile.
I think I would like to be myself.