We were watching a beautiful marriage proposal on YouTube, the young man made a video of their favourite moments together and it was projected on a big screen during her mother’s birthday party. With all her family and friends watching and crying (the women, why do women cry so easily?), he asked her to share his life with him. To be his best friend, confidante, Co-pilot, forever girlfriend and the mother of his children. At this point I was almost crying too, it was so romantic!
Struggling with tears and laughter, she said “Yes”. I wiped my tears with the back of my palm and caught his eyes, I could see the effort he made not to burst into laughter. I glared at him balefully and his response was full scale laughter. Let me tell you something about my friend’s laugh- he’s been banned from several libraries across Nigeria.
I waited for him to finish laughing so I could punch his stomach, suddenly he pauses his laughter to ask “how would you like to be proposed to?”
There’s only one place I want to be when it’s time for my boyfriend to pop the big question.
India has always fascinated me, maybe it’s because of all those extraordinary bollywood movies we watched as children-snake girl, the promise, the twins etc. I’d always wanted to visit that country, I almost went to an Indian university but my parents thought I’d be taken advantage of by unscrupulous people. My father had worked with Indians for twenty years and had no good thing to say about them.
However he’d fallen in love with an Indian, an Indian monument. He fell in love with the Taj Mahal and passed on that love to me.
I want to be proposed to in front of the Taj Mahal at dusk, just when the colour of the structure changes from white to yellow. He’d go down on one knee and ask me to marry him in front of this monument to undying love. My family and his will be there and our sisters and mothers will cry and our brothers and fathers will cough gruffly. Tourists will take pictures of us and he’ll place the most beautiful ruby ring I’ve ever seen on the ring finger of my left hand, he’ll even…
His voice cuts through my reverie, he’s been calling my name and looking at me with a puzzled expression. I smiled and told him I remembered something pleasant.
“You haven’t answered my question” he reminds me gently.
I looked at him, the young man who held my heart. The young man who was working two jobs to make ends meet and the ends were not even in the same country. His shirt was two years old, his trousers slightly younger, his shoes were made in Aba and his socks almost competing with most sieves for the highest number of holes. Then I remembered that song by Don Williams, with the title “when I’m with you”. A part of the song played in my head.
So if I could write about the way you make me feel
I don’t know what I’d write
‘Cause of all the words there are to use
They’d never say it right
When I only have a minute
And It’d take a thousand hours
And all those new words, too
But my nights are never blue
And I don’t mind the rain when I’m with you…
Then I look him in the eye and tell him, “I don’t want an elaborate proposal…”.
My friend Johnpaul is a mega talented artist and he started blogging today, please show some support. Visit his blog and show some love. If you like his work and want your portrait or something, tell him you came through me and you’ll get a super discount.
Have a spectacular weekend y’all.