Note to my sistas- Wife, not just bride.

You know when I first started blogging, I promised myself I would never reveal the real me. That I'd just write stories I make up in my crazy head (some of it do have some element of truth by the way. Not all, but some) But somehow, blogville is so filled with brilliant minds, provocative topics, that I let parts of me out with every comment I leave on all your blogs. While I'm not promising to keep writing about issues like the one below, that mean a lot to me, I need to get this off my chest, and what better place to share, than here with you.
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I've seen it so many times. The wistful eyeing of the train. The envious looks at her, wondering why she's better than you. "She don't deserve him", you say. "I'm better than her"...

I'm talking about you, the eternal bride. You want to wear the white dress, carry the bouquet, dance into the grand ballroom, your groom in tow. You want to have everyone oohing and ahhing at you wedding cake, you want to make people fall in love with your first dance. You want to be the 'madam' of your household, not so? Well I got news for you. You ain't...

At least not until you realize that a wedding is very different from a marriage. Let me get a little personal. You see, Mr. Neffie (According to Temite) and I dated for 5 yrs before we got married. Everything was fine until our parents got involved (Doing in-law type stuff - very annoying). At this point, I was 2months deep into my "Bad gyal" phase (I hear it's a 6month to a lifetime period in a chic's life, when she feels like a bad ass b!tch) it was raining men, and I was loving the attention from the opposite sex. Infact, some of my friends would say "Girl, u ain't all that. How come all the fine ass brovas up in here wanna talk to u?". This was the time that Mr Neffie popped the question (I'll tell you HOW he popped the question- a story for another day). I remember feeling very confused. I mean I loved this man with all my heart, here he was on one knee (Something he swore he'd never do lol) asking me to be his wife. In one ear I hear bad ass neffie "HUH? WTF? Hell naw gyal! u is having way too much fun. He tryna cramp ur style. Hell Naw! He enjoyed his single status all this while, and just when u are about to have all the fun, he gon come up in here, looking all sober, talking 'bout "Will you make me the happiest man in the world" Well the answer is Hell naw...ermmm at least not yet" In another ear, I hear Nef. My good girl angel "AWWWWWWWW, don't cry don't cry, he is so cute! YES YES YES! What are you waiting for? I remember I used to have panic attacks at my job then. I'd literally have to take breaks to steady my heart and breathing. I was hella scared. Bad Neffie would say things like "Gurl, u know ur ass is toast. You are stuck on the same damn channel the rest of ur life. No more 'sampling' for you. Look at that Foin ass brown skin brova. He hella fine, BUT u all hitched now, Nope, can't be talking to him" (Did I mention she's a ghetto fabulous chic?) I would have images of an old me, saggy breast, wrinkled face, and it would send my heart racing. And then, all of a sudden, it hit me. I wasn't sure I was ready to be married, but I didn't mind having the rock on my left hand, and being the envy of the party. I wanted the white dress, but I wasn't ready to be a help-meet.

Recently, some friends came to visit me. One of them constantly asks me, "So how does it feel to be married"? Almost like she wants to hear horror stories. After they saw a day in my life, she said she had a talk with herself, asking if she was ready to be submissive, let the in-laws have their way, whether or not they are right, bring another man's food to the table, wash dishes when he's done, be responsible for someone else, all while having a full time job and doing an MBA. She said her answer to herself was Hell Naw! Some days, when I speak with my single friends, and they are like 'Oh I'm going to houston this weekend for a wedding, then I'll stop at ATL on my way back', I so badly want to be able to just up and leave, but I can't. Not becos the Mr. will say no, but becos the logistics is just tiresome. After a while, I put the thot to rest. Plus I'm a homebody anyways. I'd really just rather be home with the Mr.

Marriage to me is like a text book. Each chapter is a different language. When you have mastered chapter 1, Chapter 2- infinity is there to master, and new editions of this textbook come out everyday. It takes work, but is beautiful if nutured. Sometimes they make you so mad, you start to practice your alibi in the mirror in anticipation of a homicide, and sometimes you love 'em so much, u wanna give them everything you've got, and then some. I have read on a blog (I forget now whose) that you need to shine ur eye when entering a marriage if not, love will flog you ehn, ur eye go red. So true. I have butterflies for Mr. Neffie, but I am too smart a woman to think I am in this by my own doing. I realize that God has a hand in this. Anyone who knows what volatile temperament I used to have, knows that I'm a work in progress, and I have come such a long way from that young girl who thot she was a bad ass. Marriage matures you. It's either you mature,or you fall apart. I pray for everyone of my sistas searching for their Adams, that he will find you, and when he does, I pray that you will be ready to be a wife, not just a bride.