No this isn’t another discussion on the pros and cons of sperm banks. After a conversation on facebook I realise that most of the heteronormative world still aren’t ready for that. Whilst I’m saddened by this I appreciate that privilege in all its guises means that sometimes you have to listen to idiots talking about shit they know very little about even though you didn’t ask for their opinions.
As the dating drama continues I realised that you need a team to help you. Not just my salon selected team but the emotional team too. You can’t date alone and as much as I love my solo dates it’s tantamount to having a wank. Great relief but you’re still right back where you started. Besides, women don’t date alone. From deciding on the perfect after work outfit to referrals from pitying friends, dating is not a solo endeavour. I don’t think I can decipher a text without at least 3 code pink whatsapp messages of, “what do you think he MEANS by this?!?” . It’s part of the drama and fun.
Little did I know that others were working in the background just as hard. I knew that my grandmother had consulted the bones and saw a white guy from overseas in the future. My mother has been chanting for a son in law since 2007. I don’t think either were clear however on which daughter and my sister found her FuHu whilst I found a stream of wastemen who talked a good game but couldn’t deliver.
But, unbeknownst to me, my mother and her bestie had a backup plan. The plan was that I would marry and have children with her best friend’s son. They didn’t see bothered by the fact that he was married to a sweet if somewhat meek (read dry) girl and so work as an option. They had a plan. This plan was promptly ruined by Sweet & Meek having a baby. I say ruined they say waylaid as it wasn’t a boy. They still think there is a chance that they will be Grandmothers in arms. I had become that unwitting side character in a bad rom com who doesn’t get the man but has an epiphany at the end. OMG, I was a side chick even in Hollywood terms!
I tried hard to explain to her why a relationship with this guy wouldn’t have worked. He’s flaky yet smart, spends waaaay too much time listening to his crazy mother and, he’s married. Mama Black interprets these qualities as him needing guidance from a strong woman, being a loving son and that this is only his starter marriage.
In a vain attempt to highlight how wrong he is for me I pointed out that he’d named his daughter something so boring and English that we could never be married. She saw this as a sign that his sperm worked and told me not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Then it suddenly hit me. In my 20s there was no way my mother would even let me date a guy married or dating someone else. She was all about finding someone that was yours and could provide. But now, I’m meant to be fighting for scraps. Worse, married men that don’t realise that their mother has plans for them and another woman. Is this what dating has come to? I would send him an email and warn him about what they’re up to but I’m still mad that they didn’t give their child a decent name, so, he’s on his own.
And so my precious it highlights the fact that sometimes having a plan is all well and good but, you need to have a realistic plan and of course, a plan B. And of course, never underestimate the persistence of an African mother.
© Chelsea Black