That’s something I have heard more times than I wish to remember. It has become more prevalent now that I have ceased to get younger. And that’s exactly my point. At what point does one cease to get younger? I used to think that one never gets younger anyway. Unfortunately, that’s not a universal belief.
I cannot count how many times I have been told (by my family and even by people I don’t care for) that I am not getting younger anymore. Is this in comparison to the time that I was in fact getting younger? “You’re not getting younger anymore,” they say, “When are you going to get married?” They want to know. Of course, this entire thing is all about marriage. It never stops until you get married. And then, a new issue arises: when are you going to have children? And after that: when are you going to have more children?
When, oh, when, will Miss Vera Ezimora acquire the almighty sought after, most prestigious degree, the MRS degree? When, oh, when will she stop being Miss Vera Ezimora and become Mrs. Vera Somebody? I’m not sure what all the hurry is about. I’m still a kid at heart. Besides, I don’t exactly have a man knocking my door down, begging for my yellow hand in marriage.
When Miss Vera Ezimora’s husband realizes that somewhere in this world, there is one Miss Vera Ezimora who has been predestined to be his wife, when Miss Vera Ezimora’s husband realizes that both our names have been etched in the sands of time, and of course, when Miss Vera Ezimora’s husband realizes that unlike before, he, too, is not getting younger anymore, and then, he decides that he will ask for me to have his back for the rest of what will be his very fruitful, very happy, very satisfying, very healthy, and very wealthy life (because of me, of course), I, in turn, will accept his proposal.
And together, we shall not get younger — anymore. Like that other time that we used to get younger.