He proposed first, and I said no, but he didn’t give up. He kept coming, asking why I didn’t like him. He told me he was ready to change everything changeable to be with me. I just didn’t like him. I liked tall men, but he was short. He came from a tribe I had promised myself never to date, and he was in a profession that I didn’t think would make him a millionaire like I had dreamed of marrying.

I kept giving him excuses, trying my best to push him away respectfully, but he didn’t get the message. One day, he asked for a date. I said no. He said, “Just this once, and I’ll leave you alone.”

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Out of frustration, I agreed. The night before the date, I got my period. I don’t have a normal period. Mine is a whole ordeal. It starts with a runny stomach, then severe abdominal pain that nearly renders me immobile. Then a severe headache follows. When I’m alone, I cry through it all until it gets better after three days.

When he called to say he was on his way to the venue, I told him I couldn’t make it. He said, “Please don’t do that. You said you would come. You gave me your word.”

I couldn’t even speak properly because I was struggling to breathe through the pain. “I know. Let’s do it another time because today is not a good day.”

He might have sensed the struggle in my voice and asked what was wrong. I burst into tears—maybe it’s the last-born syndrome—but I cried like I had been beaten. I told him I was on my period, and it wasn’t easy for me at all. He said, “Show me where you live. I can come and make it easier for you. You shouldn’t go through this much pain alone.”

So I sent my location, and a few minutes later, he was with me. He came with wine, dark chocolate, and a large bottle of water. I couldn’t even get up to welcome him. He sat next to me, and we started talking. He gave me the chocolate. I couldn’t take the wine, though he said it would take my mind off the pain.

While I was on the couch struggling, he asked, “Have you tried using a hot water bottle on your abdomen? It helps.”

Soon, he was boiling water in the kettle. He poured the water into a bottle and gave it to me to place on my abdomen while we talked. When the water got cold, he replaced it. Before long, I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was still there, looking at me. The pain was almost gone, and I was relieved.

I went to the fridge to heat some stew and eat rice, but he asked me to relax while he handled it. I laughed. “You’re a visitor. Behave like one,” I said. He responded, “You’re convalescing. Behave like one.”

He cooked the rice and served it with wine. Suddenly, it felt like a date in my little room. I asked myself, “Who is he? And why is he making me like him when I had vowed not to?”

He came the next day and the next, doing all he could to make me feel better. A man should love you enough to be there with you through your pain. I said yes even when he hadn’t proposed. “Yes to what?” he asked. I answered, “Yes to whatever you have in mind.”

My next period started at dawn. I had begun feeling the symptoms the night before. Early the next morning, he called to ask if I would go to church. I answered, “I don’t think I can.” I didn’t mention the cramps, but a few minutes later, he was knocking on my door. He came with the same items he had brought the first time. He said, “I came prepared. Let’s do it again.”

This time, I lay in bed while he carefully placed the hot water bottle on my abdomen, easing the pain and softening my heart. I asked, “Would you marry me, or are you doing all this to make me fall in love and then leave me?”

He laughed. “How can you say that? If you’re sure about us and want us to marry, then why not?”

I answered, “Please marry me. I’m single, available, and ready to be taken. I’m ripe.”

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It didn’t happen immediately. It took us a whole year to put things in order for our marriage, but every month, during my period, he was there to cook for me and serve me food—with wine. And of course, he came to help with the hot water bottle. Each time he did, I would fall asleep while he stayed and waited until I woke up.

When we got married, the cramps stopped. It was like a miracle. I thought I had to give birth first, but I didn’t have to wait until childbirth. It disappeared just like that. Maybe it’s because I married my cure—someone who didn’t even qualify for a date in my eyes.

—Jolene 

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