Our first date was good. We had a lot of fun over food and drinks while talking about what’s important to us as individuals. I was listening carefully to her every word and from the way she spoke and the way she acted at a certain point, I picked up the knowledge that she was a feminist. For instance, when the menu came. I asked her to choose first; “Ladies first so you go first.” She answered, “I don’t do ladies first. I’m a lady, yes but I don’t want to be given favors just because I’m a lady. I want to deserve what I get.”

That started the discussion on our individual beliefs and how we both saw the dynamics between men and women when it comes to relationships. I loved how intelligently she made her point and how gracefully she acknowledged it when she made a mistake.

She laughed at every joke I made. She got touchy. She would touch my hand before starting a sentence. When she laughed, she leaned toward me. She mentioned my name before she said a word. That’s how you know a lady likes you. The way they pronounce your name and the care they take with every syllable of your name.

When the night ended, I asked her to be my girlfriend. She told me she would like to know me better before making any commitment. It took us two months to get there but it was worth it. The two months didn’t take anything away from the love I had for her. It was still a nice feeling to welcome a woman like Suz into my life, looking at her career, her desire to succeed and the many things she brought to the table of our relationship.

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She called it a discussion but I called it an argument because it was my word against her word. Anytime a man does something wrong, she calls it a man’s problem and in the end tells me, “You men are all like that.” This statement would generate a long debate that in the end would bruise the knees of our relationship.

I stopped arguing with her and instead learned to be receptive of her stands even when I felt she was wrong. Love is like that. We make concessions not because we don’t have anything to say. We rather be in love than choose to be right.

But it didn’t end there. She brought feminism into everything we did. Even the least of things had to be looked at through the filter of feminism. “Please don’t leave the dishes in the sink,” I will say. She’ll tell me, “Are you asking me to do it because I’m a woman?” “No Suz, I’m asking you to do it because you’re already in the kitchen.” It wouldn’t end there. I would receive a long lecture on why a man shouldn’t ask his woman to do the dishes but instead, allow the woman to do it herself.

These are not things I’ll consider as a reason to leave a relationship. To me they were minor but as time went on, she kept doing and saying crazier stuff all in the name of feminism.

Our first sex was so dry I don’t think I have a memory of it. It’s something I pretend it didn’t happen. She didn’t want to do it because, in her own words, she was not supposed to give me sex just because we were dating. I asked, “So under what condition should I expect you to give me sex?” It turned into a man’s expectations as against a woman’s expectations. Something like shuperu that lovers do it seamlessly, this girl turned it into an occasion for argument.

It got to a point where she told me she wouldn’t do it because I would be on top. “I can’t stand to see a man on top. Should a woman always be on the floor for a man to be on top?” She won’t do doggie because she can’t kneel for a man. And the sad thing was, she said she wouldn’t be on top because it made a man happy. So I asked, “What’s left to do now?” She answered, “They say love is blind. I’ll see what I can do when you finally blind me with your love.”

Suz had everything I wanted in a woman but it wasn’t easy to love her. She didn’t make it easy even when I tried to submit to her demands, she kept asking for more until I broke down under the weight of her demands. A year later, all we had were rules and regulations and barriers that made us different from each other. I wanted the relationship to work because she was supportive. She’ll contribute money. She’ll contribute time and knowledge to ensure something works. She cooks the best meals. She’s a prayer warrior and a lover of the future but…

The last conversation happened in her house. She was angry because I told her I was going to watch a football match while she was cooking. “Can’t you stay and help? You choose football over me and still call this love? I’m not surprised. You men are all the same.” I told her, “No problem. I will leave and not come again because I’m sick and tired of this same thing happening over and over again.”

She didn’t say a word. I didn’t say more. I walked out, looked back and she was looking at me. I shut the door and went straight home. I didn’t even watch the match that day. Two days later she sent a text; “So you meant it?” I responded, “I wasn’t joking.” She said, “I wanted to be sure.”

I felt maybe she wanted to talk things over and see if we could resolve our differences once and for all. She was online when I started writing the next text, “You hurt me a lot but I still…” She went offline. Her profile image disappeared. I finished my sentence and pressed sent. It got one faded tick. I checked and I’d been blocked.

I’ve Thought About How To Blame God

As I write this, I remain blocked. We’ve met twice after the incident. I said hello and she nodded, followed by a smile. I tried saying more. She walked away. Some days I wish it worked. She wasn’t altogether bad. Sometimes I say it didn’t work because it wasn’t meant to be. Today as I write this, I wish things turned out differently.

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—Gideon

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