Illusions of a Bachelor: My Milly
By Aaron Aroriza, Uganda:
There are some people we meet in this life that we seem to have met not so we could be with but so we could learn a few lessons from in this life – learn through observation, not firsthand experience. Milly for me is one of those people in my life.
When I first met her, she was a pretty and innocent young girl who was planning to lose her virginity to her pastor fiancé only after marriage. A few years down the road, as I was in a pub trying to drown my sorrows in liquor I chanced upon a tipsy naked girl with accidental pieces of cloth on her body and incidental make-up all over her face. It was Milly-transformed. The next time she visited me, she was in the company of overzealous born again friends who looked like they had escaped from hell. Milly looked like the prisoner they had broke out of there. She told me she was reformed.
Then one night she called me, evidently tipsy, and excitedly told me she was going to get married. I met her new fiancé the following day. Milly was surprised to discover we knew each other. I was stunned to discover Milly's new fiancé was my childhood friend, Bob. Bob was completely dazed.
I couldn't understand how these two love birds could be in love. They couldn't have been further from the perfect partner either had always told me they hoped for. But for the few hours I was with them, they never even let my presence hamper them from kissing passionately every ten or so minutes. They had only met three days ago for the first time.
Bob went back to South Africa the following day. Milly and I saw him off. On our way back from the airport, I told Milly she was making a mistake. I told her she was rushing and that the kind of love they had was the proverbial blind one and was going to throw both of them into an abyss as they blindly walked down the aisle. She accused me of being jealous and not wishing her well. She told me I was the worst friend. She threw a tantrum, told me to stop the car, moved out and slammed the door back. I left her waving down a taxi.
The next time we talked, she was inviting me for her wedding. Bob had invited me already. Neither had listened to me. They were going to wed without courting. And knowing both of them on a personal level, I couldn't imagine a more dysfunctional couple. But love is really blind.
Theirs was only blind for only a week after their wedding. It didn't wait for them to complete their honeymoon in Sun City. Bob called to tell me Milly was the worst woman he had ever seen. He accused me of not telling him about her bad side. Milly called to tell me Bob was the most useless man he had ever met. She accused me of being the worst friend again – for not warning her. Jeez…I hadn't known she had such a painful sense of humor.
But they went ahead and got pregnant anyways. Now, one year later, here I am, giving tissue to a sobbing Milly. Bob tricked her into coming back to Uganda and then left her here with 'her kid'. He called me a few days back asking me to get him a divorce lawyer. Milly has no clue. She's is asking whether I think she should board a plane and follow her Bob back to South Africa. Does she think he left her here by mistake – that maybe he just forgot they had come together?
I feel sorry for her, and I'm pissed at Bob. But I'm most pissed at myself for not having communicated better to both of them back then when their blind love and one eyed passion were in control of their hell-bound relationship chariot. But I have to find that divorce lawyer now anyways.
Not the kind like that feminist lawyer who kicked my ass in my facebook inbox after reading my last piece (The liberated, the emancipated). She accused me of being an arrogant, sexist man with a very low self-esteem. She said men like me are scared of losing the privilege we have in society and therefore keep peddling patriarchy. I read that piece again to find that man my lawyer 'friend' was referring to and the only privilege I found he had was that of being able to write out his mind without being hampered by politeness or political correctness. Now, that's not a privilege that should only be a reserve to men. Or is it? So, some feminists didn't like the message I had for them. Milly didn't like the message I had for her a few months ago either. Now, I don't like the feel of the tissue I'm holding out for her. Neither am I enjoying the sobbing voice of my friend.