The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Wife Me

So you’re thinking about walking down the aisle with me? As enticing as it may sound, you are probably the only one. Chances are you have a lot on your mind right now as you tackle such questions as: How do I seduce him? Why am I the only one interested in him? Is he going to love me back?

Dating me is no easy task, let alone getting married to me. I am a one-woman man, if you believe you’re the right woman, then it’s destiny. However, in case you’re uncertain, but you like me a lot to see it through, let me make it easy for you by transcribing the insides of my galactical brain and guide you on this quest down to conquering my heart.

In the grand scheme of things, we end up with our soulmates and usually, there are no checklists to tip off to get there. But it’s 2022. Love is a scam, and knowing who truly loves you amid cheating bastards, outrageous gas prices, “Kigali we share”, the football season, and commitment issues; is next to impossible.

Honestly, who still goes on a date in this inflation?

So I figured, as my parting gift, I’d list some points my future husband has to do to make me fall for them. Much more practical than repeating myself every talking stage. And yes, I'm the wife in this scenario.

I’ve already booked the venue, so there is really not much time for pleasantries.

First up, I need your most total unrequited loving loyalty towards me. Loyalty in the face of my challenging ego, in the wake of failure or success, and in light of my love affairs with your best friends. Simply put, someone who can hold onto me better than the US did Ukraine. Also, I am known to self-sabotage often when things get real serious, so keep that in mind. Is this a toxic trait?

To be my partner for life, you should be fun and funny. An extrovert, possibly. We can’t all be shy and afraid to go out. If by mischance I were to be more fun than you—maybe due to large doses of Igbo and Shayo—you will be fired immediately. With no retirement funds, of course.

I am a very ambitious person in life. Hence, I will need you to support, push, and challenge me every time. Yes, all three options at the same time, no exception. For example, if we’re in the middle of coitus and you're not enjoying it, then you are required to cheer me up, show me some moves you learnt in your previous life as a stripper, and insult me till I get it right.

Be careful, though. I know I’m moody, childish, petty and needy. Red flags, I know. You’ll need to find your way around them if you can envision a future with me.

Honestly, if you haven’t figured it all out yet, you’ll be the one making all the sacrifices in the relationship. The only thing I’m bringing to the table is my DJ Khaled’s fit body and my fondness for titties.

Next up on the list, I need to be taken care of too. I understand you want all the nice things in life, the gifts, the trips to Bali, and your hair done each week, but I desire the same. Sometimes I want to be the spoiled housewife or the one crying on ”Love Island” while you hold my hand. Take me on dates and pay the bill, goddamn it, PAY THE BILL!

Does anyone else think this guide is describing my mother?

Last but not least, it’s a no-brainer that you need to adore cuddles, massages, and tons of sex with me. Like each morning, night, at work, and blowjobs in our car during lunchtime.

In addition, have beauty and brains, be a moon lover, a bookworm, dress nicely and be sexy even in pyjamas. A typical straight-out of a Netflix movie kind of girl.

But you know what? None of all this really matters. What matters is that you are fond of me and have a big juicy ass! This is non-negotiable. Oh my God, the patriarchy in me is insane. Really sorry.

We’ll probably meet online, have great convos, contemplate life, the universe and everything, and be on countless dates. But don’t you dare approach me if you hate kids, I am not particularly a fan of them myself, but I can’t be with someone who is fathomless to the cuteness a baby illuminates.

Now that you know your way into my mystical space of eternal care, we’ll have to discuss how you stay. It involves you preparing my favourite meals, welcoming me at the door after work, carrying me to bed, taking care of my other girlfriends, and last but not least, understanding that twice a week, I have to party out with the boys and bring a stripper at home. Of course, this is a topic for another time.

Choosing to spend the rest of your days with me is no joke, especially if you’re Rwandan. We can’t seem to settle for shit. Hell, even I don't know if I’ll ever be ready. Till death do us part? Who wrote these fucked-up eulogies?

However, let this not stop you from fulfilling your goal of being my forever wingman. Your enthusiasm to put a ring on my finger indicates you're already the perfect candidate.

I can only hope that you have gained a helpful new perspective, one broad enough to fight for the delight of a life that awaits you when I go down on my knees and ask you, "Will you marry me, Gloria?"

I admit that maybe this article is biased, so what? Do I look desperate to you? Uh, maybe I am.

On the other hand, you might have realised I’m not worth it, or you’re not really in awe of me to partake on such a trip towards the universe’s ultimate lover. To that, I say, let's fuck it out and move on. There will be luckier people than you, I hope.

The Intergalactic committee of Love and I await your DM applications. Oh, and before I forget, you need to sign an NDA—National Dick Association—to enrol.

Good luck!