In December last year, I popped the big question. Vera is a pleasantly witty lady with a dark sense of humour. We had met in college three years prior. After graduation, I landed a marketing job at an insurance firm. Right after that proposal, I dropped another. In any case, she would spend days on end in my Buru Buru rental apartment. She nominated and vetted self to head the all-important Ministry of Housing in our fledgling government. One : The non-functional hot-water shower head in my apartment was deliberate sabotage.
As a way to save on expensive power! That thing would chew power tokens like Njugu Karanga! Two : My marriage proposal was not overly driven by love. This union was in part inspired by its convenience and usefulness in the pursuit of some personal goal!
T hree : Peer pressure from my gang, but - the good kind. We had branched out into the corporate world, from insurance, banking and marketing. We all had an almost identical salary bracket - but, by virtue of all four of my friends married to working spouses - I had a different income bracket. Their households had a double income! I always seemed to play financial catch up.
Naturally, financial talk regularly comes up when hanging out. Vera is also quite well-read. We had largely symmetrical hobbies, likes and dislikes. If I leave the toilet seat up, lose the cap on the toothpaste tube - or, generally mess up - I know to make it up to her on the next Karaoke Wednesday.
Meanwhile, she gradually fills our table with brightly-coloured complementary cocktails with little umbrellas and difficult-to-pronounce names. Overall, we are a terrific couple. We did not fight over drugs, infidelity or meddling in-laws. All our fights have been about money. The one thing I had thought would help me slay the demons that keep me awake at night was bringing them around to the daytime. Not, crazy rich level of white-gloved valets, chauffeurs and huge banquets.
