I’m five years younger than her. It was her problem right from the start but I assured her it wasn’t a problem for me. She asked, “Don’t I look like your mother?” I answered, “It’s only five years. How can you look like my mother?” She said, “I’m not talking about you. You’re in love so you’ll definitely see me in a fine light. How about others? Your family, friends and acquaintances. What would you do when they start teasing you that you’re dating your mother?”

It was like an interview session. Every answer I gave brought out another question. I told her, “Mansa, relax. This is love. Whoever has been in love before will understand. Why care about the outside when the inside is very fine? I love you and I mean it, age regardless.”

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy convincing her to look beyond the elephant in the room but I was ready to go all the way to prove to her that I was capable of loving a woman older than me.

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It was nice at first until we started having arguments and disagreements. While I wanted us to argue by logic, she wanted to use age to settle every argument; “I’m older than you. Keep quiet over there.” Or “I’ve experienced five more harmattan seasons than you, you ought to respect the experience.” Once she says that, she expects you to bow to her order and not say anything else

I didn’t want to fight with her. All I wanted was to be heard. To be counted where it mattered most and also look at me for who I am and not my age. This woman wasn’t ready to do that so we fought often. I remember one night during sex. This girl pushed me off her and screamed at me, “What did you drink that you want to come and kill me? I’m older than you. Respect the age and not try to break my waist to pieces.”

It was in her room so she told me to leave and close the door because she had had enough of me. I couldn’t disobey her. She behaved like an army general in the relationship all because of her age.

We agreed we were never going to talk about our age difference anywhere but you know, I talked about it with my dad, to test his acceptance of us. He didn’t mind. He urged me to go on with it if I only loved her. The day I introduced her to my parents, my dad said, “Oh this woman doesn’t look like she’s five years older than you.” Right there, this girl gave me a knock on my head bam! and asked, “Why did you tell him?” She laughed to musk the seriousness of the knock so I also laughed along so my dad would know it was just a play.

My head was aching. I wanted to scratch where she knocked but I couldn’t because I was acting cool. When we left, I told her it was over. “How can you knock me in front of my father? Are you sane at all?”

For the first time in our relationship, she begged me and pleaded for forgiveness. I forgave her but my dad was like, “No, Ato, you can’t handle this woman. You’re my son, listen to me. That knock looks like a knock that would live inside your relationship for a very long time. No, think about another girl. This won’t help.”

I listened to my dad and walked away.

I think it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. I knew she wasn’t good for me. I saw the red flags but I needed someone to confirm to me that they were indeed red and my dad did just that. Age doesn’t matter but it matters where it ought to matter. True love is ageless but if you meet the one who wears his or her age like a badge of honor, you’re doomed. Mansa would have beaten me one day if we got married. She was thicker than I was and also taller so you can imagine.

—Ato

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