What you gonna do about the time ticking away, ticking fast towards the shores of your late thirties and forties or even fifties, ticking towards that dreaded period of menopause while you are still single and seriously searching? You look around you and most of your mates are mothers and some are even getting on to grand-motherhood, then you look at yourself, at forty and still no husband! Tragic, aint it?

When you think on it, really think on it as you often do, when you are all alone with your thoughts, late at night, you wonder, for the thousandth time why it had to be you. Yea, you compare yourself to Tola, Tola who used to be the mean bitch in school, or Nancy who was as ugly as the devil himself way back {forget that money and the joy of marriage has transformed her now}, or is it the stupid Sandra who was busy hopping from one man to another with too many abortions to her credit? Look at them all, all happily married and with kids too. You ask God {that is if you still believe in Him}, God, why me of all people? If God should bless people with good husband and children, you ought to be top on the list because whatever a man desireth, you possess – beauty, class, intelligence, poise, courage, good manners, godliness, even wealth – you are equal to the task. So how come you are still here watching your fertile time slipping away into the infertile?



Friends brag about their hubbies and children and bombard your social media newsfeed with pictures and sweet words of their cute families. As if that is not enough torment, your family, especially your mother is always on your case, harassing you to go find your own husband and leave their home for them, after all, all your younger sisters are happily married. Yet, you still have no man to call yours.
You have helped plan and attended innumerable weddings of colleagues and neighbours that you might as well become a professional wedding planner. Your wardrobe is filled with uncountable array of aso ebis that you wore to friends’ weddings. Same goes for child dedication. Tick tock, tick tock…

They used to sneer at you behind your back, but now, they do it to your face and dare you to do your worst. Small children insult you as they like and their parents watch and cheer them on. The gossip mill has it that you are single at fifty because you are a retired prostitute, so when you have little issues with them, they call you ashawo. And so, you continue to shed tears in the dark wondering when and if ever you will ever one day be called ‘my darling wife’ not talk of becoming some cute kids’ mummy.

The only prayer houses that you have not visited are the ones that are still in the pipeline. Every powerful man of God around town knows you on first name basis. These days, you have even graduated to the ‘corporate native doctors’, the dibias, the babalawos. You have employed all the strategies they suggested, bought rings, wedding gowns, chosen your colours and bridal train and maid of honour. Yet, your nights are spent alone with just you and your tears of frustration for company.
You have allowed yourself be used and dumped by every Tom, Dick and Harry in your bid to get them to love you enough to want to pop that all important question – nothing. You trimmed down in weight, toned up in colour (almost as fair as the Europeans), ‘tushed up’ in class and all – no husband and time is ticking by.
What then is left for you to do that you have not done? Nobody understands. None is left to encourage or console you. You are on your own. So what do you do when the chips are all down, when the tide is flowing against you, when you have been pushed to the world and have nowhere else to go?

I do not have the answers. I do not know what else you should do or where else to go. I have no idea where the solution lies. All I know is that you need to look inward and find it yourself, find the peace which the world cannot give. Oh and that reminds me, I know only one way out – seek ye first the kingdom of God… There is no guarantee that the long awaited husband will materialize immediately, but you will have peace, you will find joy flowing like a river and you will find yourself and realize that the fulfillment of your purpose in life is not dependent on a husband despite what our African culture hammers into our brains. Your happiness does not lie in any man’s pocket; it is in your own pocket.

There comes a time when you need to let go and let God.