We live in a highly religious country and so our beliefs condemn co-habitation before marriage. There are instances in which I think co-habitation should be allowed. One of such instances is when a dating couple decide to move their relationship to the next stage. Marriage. I think we should allow for the couple to live together for like at least three months to get to know their partners on a deeper level, although I don’t believe in sex before marriage. So if this should be done, it should be done with the intention of knowing the deepest, most hidden characters and traits of the other party to check if marriage to them would be suitable or not.
My story about why we needed to break up goes like this: We were talking about getting married and although we didn’t believe in co-habitation before marriage, we were put to the test. My parents live in Kumasi. His live in Accra but we were separately renting in Accra. Around the time we were talking about settling down, my room got some issues that needed fixing so I had to move. I also worked in Accra so there was no way I could go back to Kumasi. Going to live with his parents too was out of the question.
We decided to live together for the time being. I knew how lazy my landlady could be so every now and then, I would call her to check up on the progress of work done. The first few days were full of bliss. Everyone was on their best behaviour. Then when we were approaching our first week together, every bad aspect of ours started popping up. He would be seated with me in the hall and would raise one leg and fart. The air was worse than rotten eggs or spoilt beans. I didn’t like this farting spree and brought his attention to it.
I am the kind of person who doesn’t wash utensils immediately after use and this brought daily issues. In the morning after making breakfast, I would rush off to work, leaving the utensils I used to cook with the ones we ate in in the sink. He comes home first and seeing things like that was an eyesore to him. One evening, when I was going to bath, I noticed he was lying down. I told him my observation of him not taking his evening baths seriously. He sharply replied saying he also didn’t like the forests he saw whenever I took off my shirts. He said he could imagine the forest I would be keeping in the “South” this brought about another quarrel.
Little by little, we were being exposed to every little, minute detail about each other. The good and the bad. It appeared like the bad was more than the good and each party wanted the other to work on it so we were always having arguments, trying to correct the other and put the other in check.
This my landlady too wasn’t seeing to the completion of my room issues. I wanted to return to mine. I was fed up with the constant fights and corrections. One evening, he started. A woman who is this disorganised, I wonder what would happen to our home after we have kids. I also retorted. A man who likes farting and his farts smell so bad, I wonder how he and his wife will be able to sleep at night or spend some romantic time together.
That was it. I was fed up. I refused to sleep in the room that night. I sat on the veranda till dawn and went to my place. When I arrived they were almost done so I sat down and waited. He didn’t call and I didn’t call until I remembered I had left one small bag with some of my underwear in it at his end. Then I called and he picked and was talking to me in this annoying voice. I told him I needed my stuff. He said he would bring it. When he arrived, he was quiet for a while.
He said he didn’t think it was a good idea for us to go ahead with marriage. I said I agreed. Only his farts could kill. Then he said he agreed too. Only my dirtiness would kill him before his time. That was how seven years of being together came to an abrupt halt. To me, it was better we ended there than get married and all these would pop up and we wouldn’t be able to look past them.