My ultimate goal in life has always been to be a wife to a very rich man where my only struggle would be deciding the color of my nail polish and curtains. I do not want to be the very glorified independent woman who wears power suits and is very independent. That has never been a part of my dreams. I dream that my future very rich husband will tell me that his wife is not supposed to work because the Bible says that he should provide.
My work will be to organize tea parties for his business partners, give birth to beautiful children and look good. I even have a schedule of how my days – when not on vacation -would look like. My precious husband will even get me a fitness trainer to ensure that I always look good. Now, the past week, I have been confined to my couch and bed to enable my knee to heal and I had the chance to experience how it would be being a housewife. I do not know if it’s lack of money or a rich husband, but my experience has been far from my dream.
I forgot to say that part of my dreams includes me being the proverbial wise woman. I totally envy people who are able to observe a chicken hatch or someone drive and somehow see very valuable life lessons. I want such kind of wisdom. I have tried observing every little thing in my house and I have realized that wisdom is a gift. I looked at my shoe rack and all I could see were the type of shoe I should get myself. I looked at the sink, saw a lot of dirty utensils and gave up.
I was wise and idle enough to know that I have to look for that elusive rich man. I joined Tinder. For those who are not yet with it, Tinder is a site that enables you to meet with people; obvious I know, but it was still exciting. You get to decide to set the sex, age bracket and the proximity of the people you want to meet. It will then bring you all the people of the preset conditions and you will be required to swipe left if you do not like someone and right if you like someone. If the person you have swiped right also likes you and swipes right, you are matched and you can begin having a conversation. Sounds simple, right? Well it is for those who have photos from buo art and have the caption “I am a sapiosexual”. They get matched really quick. I had to wait for two days before I could get matched with anyone, and this was after deciding to swipe everyone to the right. The person I was matched with claimed to be a sapiosexual who wanted to have fun. He had a different brand of alcohol on his hand in each of his photos and my first thought was that I had eventually landed myself a rich, sapiosexual alcohol brand ambassador. I was so excited when he started chatting with me.
Mr. Sapiosexual: Hi
Nancy: Hi
That was the end of the conversation and me not being a sapiosexual, I told myself that probably that is how the sapiosexuals communicate and decided to learn. The exact communication continued for three days and my bad no so wise manners decided to intervene in order to get my newly found husband off his ‘hi’ horse.
Mr. Sapiosexual: Hi
Nancy: Hi. How has your day been?
Mr. Sapiosexual: Can I tap that ass?
I immediately logged out of tinder and went to Google to see if the meaning of sapiosexual had changed. Patience being a virtue I also lack, I gave back and went back to what I do best; stalking everyone and anyone on Facebook.
I am off any form of exercise so all I am left with is portion control and eating right. However, I have friends who believe that a sick person has to eat soda and bread, ice cream and other sweet things. Being idle is not helping much. I am trying my best to avoid eating the goodies and also convincing my friends to buy me shoes instead of ice cream, but as usual my wise words are never listened to. I should be on my feet by next week and as earlier stated, I will pick myself up and carry on.