Death By Marriage, Inherited & Chosen.

Relationships as a cross to bear.

Photo by Ben Rosett on Unsplash

“I’d never get married again. It’s so tiring. All that work, and then they just leave you for another woman.” A pause. “So, when are you getting married?”

This conversation was common to my ears. First, there was a long list of negatives, and then, the question: So, when are you going to participate in this? When are you going to take up this cross, without complaining, and join your lot in life?

This is what it means to be a woman.

And now, with the roles being questioned, an odd resistance.

No, it was my role to suffer, to be a wife, a mother, a woman, because it was mandated by nature, by god.

If gender is arbitrary, then I suffered for nothing.

This is the bitterness.

I will be 32 in eight days. I am treated like a ripe avocado. I’m perfect now, but soon, very soon, I will go bad.

It was understandable, and very progressive, that I did not marry in my 20s. But now, now, it is time. Surely, now, I will find someone, and quickly.

The window is closing, but I still have time to slip through. But I must hurry. Maybe my standards are too high. I’m too demanding.