Mandy
Love is an integral part of any relationships—be it marriage or friendship. When I got married, which was arranged by my parents, I hardly knew my husband. I was in my early twenties and had grown up on a healthy dose of romantic Nollywood movies.
I had imagined my married life to turn out something like a movie directed by the late Chiko Ejiro or my favourite Chidi Chikere —love at first sight, a caring husband who would make me his priority, cherubic children and a happily ever after. But imagine my plight when I discovered life post marriage was far from perfect and all that I had imagined was a big lie.
To be honest, I was really disappointed when I discovered that there was no love ‘at first sight’, in fact there was no love at all. No feelings stirred inside me that I could define as love. It was very mundane. I was married to a man who was a dedicated and sincere person. He took good care of me but that hardly qualified as love. Life was less about roses and dinner dates. It was more about supervising household chores, managing finances and ensuring everything ran smooth.
I waited for days, weeks and months for the romance to blossom. Instead I got a husband who returned tired from work and talked about his office, parents and regular things. There were no candle light dinners but humble home-cooked meals that we ate while discussing about our next move—a new house or a car. Sex life was exciting but not romantic. I knew something huge (read love) was missing but I didn’t know how to talk about it.
A few months later, I could not help but tell my mother how unhappy I was and blurted out that there was no love between us. She asked me, “What do you mean by love? Doesn’t he take care of you? Has he been rude to you?”
I could not explain that all these cannot replace love. My mother read my silence and said I should be patient and try to understand him better. She ended the conversation saying, “Why don’t you talk to him like the way you did with me?”
It was difficult but I finally told my husband
He was the perfect man—he earned well and was attentive, took care of everything and made sure that I was comfortable. Finally, I managed to tell him that our relationship still lacked the main ingredient called love. He was ten years older than me and I understood our age difference made us perceive love differently. I wanted to clear the air before the difference between us became incorrigible. I was a little disappointed when he didn’t say much but, just like my mother, asked me to be a little patient.
I was surprised to find a little note on my dressing table the next morning. Written in his scrawly handwriting, it read, “I know I may not be the romantic husband that you wanted me to be. But let’s try to make a beginning. I am glad that you spoke to me about the things that lack in our marriage. I cannot promise you that I would turn a new leaf because you would be very uncomfortable if you wake up next to Jim Iyke one fine morning! Let’s take baby steps to know each other better. Maybe, we would one day reach the destination called love, as you expected.” My lips curled into a smile as I my eyes reached the last word.
I slowly started noticing the sweet nothings that my husband did every day—switching on the heater in the morning because I wasn’t comfortable using cold water, never complaining about the thick consistency of grapes because I liked it that way (his mother once told me his love for grapes ) and travelling by bus so that I can use the car when required. These were the roses he showered on me every day, which went unnoticed. Love is not a heady feeling. It is like a worn-out shoe, which you never notice but miss its comfort when you wear a new one.
With a little patience and a good amount of honest communication, we had arrived at a point where people called us a ‘happy couple’. Yes, I no longer measured love by the number of candle light dinners we had or the roses he gave me. My husband no longer talked about mundane things after returning home, nor does he forget to kiss me goodbye before leaving for office. We both changed a little and so did our expectations. But it was a change that made our marriage work.
