I met him through my mom. She specifically hand-picked him and said I should date him. I didn’t protest. I didn’t ask questions. I was ready to see how it would go. When we met, he called me beautiful. On our second meeting, he asked what I brought to the table. On our third meeting, he was talking about how we could build the future together.......CONTINUE READING THE ARTICLE FROM THE SOURCE>>>>>
I asked him, “Build the future together as what? Who are we that ought to build a future together?” He answered, “Ain’t you my girlfriend? I’m talking about when we finally settle down as husband and wife.” I asked him, “I’m your girlfriend? Since when? You haven’t even proposed to me.”
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He was so sure I was his girlfriend, and the fact that I was asking him those questions got him angry. “Ah, didn’t your mother tell you everything? I thought you agreed—that’s why we are here.”
I took my time and lectured him on how to make a woman your girlfriend, even if it was someone who linked the two of you. I asked him to propose first and get a response from me before we could call it a relationship. He did. He did it so lousily that I said no. He said, “It’s okay. I will tell your mom about it.”
This is a twenty-nine-year-old university graduate who’s managing his father’s business. They are rich. He carries this grace around him like someone who has sense. Maybe that’s what my mom considered and thought he would be a good boyfriend and eventually a husband.
My mom called me on the phone: “Herh, Adwoa, what did you say to Raymond? Do you think you’re the only girl in this world? Do you know how many women would die to have this opportunity that has been given to you on a platter? Why are you stressing someone’s son? He’s your boyfriend. So why do you want him to propose again?”
I can stress that boy, but I can’t stress my mom because I love her so much, so I called Raymond and told him I’d accepted his proposal, so he should come and date me. If he had sense and a little bit of maturity, he would have sensed the sarcasm in my response. But he took it hook, line, and sinker and called me his girlfriend.
He hates it when I make the rules, especially when I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him until later in the relationship, when I was sure. He asked me, *“What do you want to be sure about again?”* When I told him he couldn’t sleep at my end, he asked why my boyfriend couldn’t spend a night with me. When I went to his place for the first time and he told me to cook for him, and I said I couldn’t cook, he took it as an insult and called my mom.
He enumerated all the rules I’d given him and asked my mom to advise me or else I would lose the relationship. I was lying on his couch, smiling as he talked to my mother as if he was the boss. When he hung up, I asked, *“Raymond, is that how you run your dad’s business? Whenever there’s an issue, you pick up the phone and tell him?”*
He even told my mom that I’d been starving him of sex—meanwhile, we’d been dating for only six weeks. So my mom came to my place, this time begging me to be submissive: *“I know you’re tough and all, but this is not the time to be Yaa Asantewaa. Mellow and be married to. You’re a woman.”*
The relationship is currently six months old. To carry this relationship this far has taught me that I’m stronger than I thought I was. Raymond can never go a day without annoying you. You go out with him, he would insult every driver on the road and sometimes roll down his window and engage in a verbal war with another driver. Go to church with him, and he would tell you the pastor’s shoe is too long for a pastor. There’s always something to say about someone.
I won’t carry this beyond seven months—I’ve told myself—but when I leave him, it’s my mother’s heart I will break. That’s my only problem now: how to make it easy on my mom. How to let her know Raymond isn’t a man to build with when he thinks he has already built and is only waiting for me to build up to his standard. I’m only twenty-five. I’ve gone through a lot in life to know what’s good for me and what’s not. Raymond is everything that’s bad for me.