THE REASON YOU CAN'T MARRY ME

There are many reasons why you can't marry me - or in better words - A girl like me

Many!

Let me share a few

I am the girl you will find sprawled on the cream rug at 8:54AM, legs lying flailingly on the sofa, a box of pizza beside me, my back feeling all mushy from the tingly fingers of the rug and eating in that upside down posture

There may be a soft Jazz music coming from our 'sonos era 100' speaker in our plush minimalist living room. That's how you'll find me. You'll huff, drop your suitcase and wonder "Where did I get this one". I will smile sheepishly at you, then go back to living in the moment. 

A man your calibre will stride gently to our sunlit kitchen, not the one upstairs, the one downstairs, the one with the iron chandeliers and the stainless steel sub zero refrigerator, with a quiet bosch diswasher tucked behind matching panels, you will open pans and pots and find them squeaky clean and empty, grabbing an apple from the fridge you will come back to the sitting room, where the music has changed to an afrobeats song. 

You do not know the artist, you would never know, but my screams will interrupt your thoughts as I am hollering along with this artist with a throaty voice that questionably I seem to find attractive. You think,  "This is a Godly household" but you do not say anything. You join me on the rug, lie down on your back, your legs on the sofa, imitating my posture, the side of our faces touching, and your hands on your chest, I can hear and feel your breath, we don't know where the apple is anymore, and I am still hollering, louder. 

I am the girl who's temper would have you compromising and bleeding silently. You will sigh and aah, try to explain, try to understand, sometimes we would make headsway, other times our voices will overshadow each others and fewer times we would make up with hot rounds of feral coitus, they are exhilirating but the sinking core of our anger doesn't dissipate. You are calm, so it hurts you, the way I shout, the way I address things head on, the way I think I'm always right  the way I leave things unsaid and harbor them. And It's draining, such a woman is what the Bible spoke against? Right? 

I am the girl who is very clingy, very ununderstanding, very Jealous. Very selfish.

 But before I forget, guess what? yesterday someone said "…..I can tell you need tender love and care" what does that mean? What does that even mean? What vibe do I give off that shows I need love? Do I walk around with neediness written all over me? 

You'll be a hung of a man and I would love you deeply, my neediness would bleed on you. My nonchalance would irritate you, my lukewarmness would infuriate you. I have always been told I'm a hand full. Are your hands big enough?

I'm the girl who carries scars around like weave-on braids, I have not met anyone who can handle my brokenness. Will you tell me to let it go too? To get a grip? Or say you understand even when you clearly don't. Or you will hold my small frame in your hands, quietly, without sighing, without commenting, and rock me when my anxiety attack comes, when I cry in your chest and slip from your hands to the floor like slime. Will you go down with me. Holding me tighter, or leaving me alone when I ask you to, would you understand my pain, my insecurities and see things my way, that the things I say are not self deprecation, but my truth, my awareness, my reality. Would you be ready to be with a woman who's natural state is sadness, who cries just as much as she breaths air. Would you like to marry a girl who never grew up, a little girl caged in a little body, with each birthday celebration as the only sign of change. Would you be able to carry me all in your hands and not break under the weight of my little frame.

I'm the girl who would sit with you at 3:00AM to work on a mindblowing thesis that questions the role of diplomacy in resolving the Russia - Ukraine war and another on global governance and international organizations. Yes, I will do all that with you. 

I'm the girl who would be jamming to the songs coming from the cars stereo and be twerking on your face as you drive. The girl who will slip her hands in your crotch and feel your hardness twitch as you maneuver your way across lanes with shaky fingers. I would be the girl who would jump on you every second for intimacy and stealthily walk into your study, in a see through one piece lingerie, I would walk gently to your recliner, swirl it around, your back to the door and I would go down on my knees. A girl like me, would rock your world in horrific delight because you're "a man of God". Your desire and your Godly knowledge would clash, but because we're under the right ordinance you would loosen up your nerves and get lost in the moment. And when you see me in church on Sunday, my hands high up, genuine tears falling from my closed eyes as I worship our God, you can't help but wonder "What kind of woman is this Lord?"

There are many more reasons why you shouldn't come, why you shouldn't choose me, why you shouldn't marry me. 

My aim was to deter you. Now I wonder if I have given you a stronger sense of will to pursue instead, why,  because I have boggled your mind with adulterous thoughts. Imagine! Weak kinds! 

But beyond the passion, can you still stay? Would you still stay? I do not want to be a challenge, I want to be the host, in your heart and in your life, the one you write poems for and live for

Yet I implore you 

With everything in me

Do not marry me. Look at all these reasons and do not marry me

                   ©️Amari🖊