Every once in a while, I meet a man and he asks the inevitable question:
“Have you ever been married before?”
The answer is always easy.
“Hell to the nah. To the nah, nah. Nah.”
But sometimes, just sometimes, they smile and follow-up with:
“Oh, okay, cool. So, have you ever been engaged?”
Yo, it’s like they know.
That’s when it gets complicated because like… fuck yes, I’ve been engaged. But did I marry that man? Nah. And as far as I’m concerned, it only counts if you actually marry that person.
Back in the day, I lived in Ghana. Yes, that’s right – one of West Africa’s most beautiful countries (Naija bae, if you’re reading this, I still love you). I lived there for six whole months – frolicking around, getting my hair braided and basking in the culture that would’ve likely been mine had the Ashantis not sold my ancestors into slavery (perpetual shade — y’all know I’m shady).
Anyway, while there, I happened to meet a nice-ish young man who liked to throw shade. We fell in situational love, and before I knew it, I was three days away from leaving Accra, and he was down on one knee at the top of some hill in Legon. And guess what?
I SAID, “YES!”
But before you leap and shit, please know this: I didn’t mean it. Let me very clear about a few things because I’m comfortable in my own skin.
First and foremost, I like attention. I’ve been this way since I was two, and I’ma be this way til I’m 102. So, I knew I didn’t want to leave Ghana without a story to tell.
Secondly, I was 21 at the time. I don’t know what 21 looked like for y’all, but marriage? It was a ‘no’ for me, dawg.
Finally, that boy was shady as fuck, had no act right and was at least 48 percent interested in me primarily because I lived in the U.S.
So, I accepted his proposal. And less than a month later, after dipping these toes back into U.S. sand, I decided that I was good. And by that, I mean I didn’t want his ass.
Back to My Point
I recognize that this particular type of situation is unique, right? Like, I totally get that most normal millennial women are not out here saying “yes” to the mess and getting proposed for no good reason.
However, I also know that people are out here getting engaged all willy nilly (and some out of legitimate love, of course), and are breaking up before saying, “I do.”
But unless you actually sign your life away/over to that person, walk down that aisle, or change your last name, I don’t think that damn engagement should count. Like, it should not count at all.
Why, you ask? I got you bruh.
Rhymes and Reasons
Engagements that did not result in marriage shouldn’t count for the following reasons:
- That shit didn’t work! Why should you be judged on the number of times you thought you were in love if you didn’t even make the huge ass mistake of marrying the person.
- You’re not legally tied to the person in any capacity (if you have kids, this may not apply #kanyeshrug).
- Had you known what you know now, you likely would’ve said “No!”
- You’re a new you (hopefully); much different than you were at the time.
- You have a new significant other and only that engagement should be celebrated.
- You’ve gotta stop watering dead plants at some point.
- The relationship/engagement was built on manipulation, abuse, lies, deceit, etc.
- You did it for papers. No comment.
- You don’t have the miles you might’ve had on you had you actually married the person.
- That person isn’t worth the compliment of being tied to an engagement with you.
- Did I mention that the shit didn’t work?
Unfortunately, a lot of men/people disagree with this logic, so take it how you will. However, I know for a FACK (intentional spelling) that I’m just going to lie to people from now on and tell them I’ve never been engaged because that shit doesn’t count — even if he went to Jared, bih.
Do the same, sis. Do the same.