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The Spinster Above 30

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The big 3 zero, when you can confidently say “grown woman” and flip your hair proudly. While I’m not 30 yet, allow me to write this from the perspective of a 30-year-old woman named Lola. If Lola, isn’t okay, we can change it… Lola is? Good! Now, allow Lola to tell you her story about being a spinster above 30.

I’m Lola, I’m 30 years and seven months old. I have this thing with always using my months with years, I just recently celebrated my 30 and half birthday. I don’t get why the months of babies are appreciated and adults only appreciate the years, I just love celebrating myself. I was born 6th of August, so every 6th I begin my month, looking at what I’ve achieved and hope to achieve. Last month was February, my 30 and half birthday was the 6th of February, 8 days from valentine’s day. When the time came for me to make a wish, I wished to be struck with valentine’s love magic and I cut the cake with so much faith.

This is the 6th of March, and I’m still single. Very much single, no admirer, no one trying to ask me out, absolutely nothing. It hurts because last month I ate so much cake after wishing, which was bad because I gain weight easily. On Valentine’s day, I got a makeover, went out but I got heartbroken seeing all those happy couples. I called in sick today. I deserve to be sick because I’m sick of being the official bridesmaid because the other friends are married. Sick of getting the pity looks when my friends talk about their husbands.

Singleness is a sickness. A deadly one. Before I bought this house I had to pretend to be married because the previous owner was too much of a chauvinist to sell to a single lady but the house was so fine, that instead of letting go, I told my colleague to pretend to be my husband. Anytime I become really happy over something, people close to me just assume I found a marriageable man. When I called Lilian about the new restaurant with amazing food, after sensing the excitement in my voice she said “You found someone? Girl! I’m so happy for you.” I just ended the called and went to the new restaurant to get amazing comfort food. Before you judge me, I have a gym instructor’s card in my wallet.

It’s evening and I decided not to waste my “sick day” feeling sorry for myself. I dressed up, went out to go get the husband fresh air. So I went to the new restaurant to see if any guy would be interested in me eat. After eating and seeing no was interested resting, I started walking home. I saw a woman sitting on the pavement and sobbing. I walked past because thieves these days use any tactic to bait people but for some reason, I went back to her.

“Hey”
She looked up, her eyes filled with tears, put her hands around me and continued crying. I was shocked by her reaction. She looked young and beautiful even in her state. We remained that way for some minutes until she suddenly removed her hands.
“I’m so sorry. I made your blouse wet.”
“It’s okay. Do mind sharing what is wrong?” I don’t like prying, but her tears drying on my clothes prompted me to ask.
“My husband is a fraudster! My husband of three years. Three bloody years. How did I miss that? I was so in a hurry to settle down before the big three zero. I didn’t even take my time to study him.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“It is. You are just trying to be nice.”
“Well, maybe. However, you can never fully know a person, no matter what. I can only imagine the pressure. I’m months above thirty and single.”
“You are lucky.”
“Excuse me?”
She breathed deeply “You have time to make the right choice. I always thought I could meet someone to spend forever with. Marriage is supposed to be a lifetime commitment.”
“Are you divorcing him?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think I’m ready to live with the stigma of being a divorced single thirty-two-year-old woman.”
“So you are just going to do nothing?” It seemed absurd to me, that she would decide to stay because of how people would react. Her phone rang.
“It’s my husband, I need to start going home.” She stood up “He doesn’t know I know so….” She shrugged, bent to hug me and left.

Lucky. She called me lucky. It then occurred to me, I haven’t really been living my life. I was so consumed with settling down that I haven’t loved myself for a while. I was too scared to get a car, so I don’t scare off a potential suitor. I don’t know her name but she made me realize that I have to be patient. I know my biological clock is ticking but so is my “have a life” clock. I called my mom, this weekend we are going to take a little road trip in the car I will buy after work tomorrow.

Author:

I'm OnyinyeOlufunmi, a visual artist, writer and psychologist from Lagos, Nigeria.

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