Don’t Ask Me: When You Are Getting Married
People keep asking me, “When are you getting married?” Again and again. And I’m tired. Exhausted, really. Sometimes it makes me so angry I don’t even want to answer my phone. I don’t want to see anyone. I’m tired of explaining myself.
It’s not just a question it’s a judgement. A pressure. A heavy weight placed on me simply because I’m a woman. As if time is running out. As if something is wrong with me. As if the life I have isn’t enough.
And I’m crying as I write this, not because I’m sad or ashamed, but because I’ve had enough of pretending it doesn’t hurt.
The truth is: I’m happy. I know I’m beautiful. I know I’m blessed. I have a life that gives me peace. I have my own money, my own space, and my own freedom. I wake up and choose how I want to live. I don’t have to answer to anyone. And to me, that is a gift.
I wish every girl could feel this the freedom to live on her own terms. To enjoy her own company. To build a life she loves without being made to feel like she’s just waiting for a man to appear and validate her existence.
But every time someone asks me, “When are you getting married?” it feels like they’re trying to take that away from me. Like they can’t see the joy I’ve already created. Like they want to shrink me back into a version of myself I’ve long outgrown.
This article is for every woman who has been made to feel like she’s falling behind.
It’s for the girls who are tired of being questioned.
It’s for anyone who has ever been made to feel like they’re not enough just as they are.
And it’s for me. To reclaim my voice, my peace, and my path.
Let’s talk about it.
Do You Really Care?
“When are you getting married?”
That question. Again and again. Like I don’t hear it enough. Like I haven’t already thought about it. Like I don’t know what I want for my own life.
But let me ask you this:
Do you really care?
Because if you did if you truly cared you’d consider how that question makes me feel. You’d think about the weight it carries, how it settles heavy on my chest when I’m already tired, already questioning, already carrying enough. But no you ask it anyway, casually, like it’s nothing. Like it’s just small talk. Like it doesn’t chip away at something inside me.
Here’s what I’ve realised:
It’s not about care.
It’s programming.
Society has scripted this path for us. You grow up, get married, have children. That’s the expected timeline. The measure of success especially for women. And if you don’t tick those boxes on time, then something must be wrong with you. That’s how they make you feel.
But I’m not a box to be ticked.
I’m not late.
I’m living.
People don’t understand how exhausting it is to hear the same question repeatedly. It’s like being told over and over again that your life, as it is, isn’t enough. That you’re unfinished. That you’re behind. And it’s not just the question it’s the tone, the judgement lurking behind the smile, the raised eyebrows, the awkward silences when I say, “Not yet.”
It’s insulting
the assumption that I haven’t thought about it.
As if I don’t know what I want.
As if I’m just drifting through life clueless, waiting for someone else to show me the way.
No. I know exactly what I want. I’ve thought about it more than you could ever imagine. I’ve wrestled with it, made peace with it, struggled and fought with myself over it.
I don’t need your constant reminders disguised as concern.
I don’t need the pity in your voice.
I don’t owe anyone an explanation for my journey.
And the worst part? Some ask not because they want to see me happy, but because my life unsettles them. My freedom makes them question their own choices. My independence makes them uneasy. So instead of sitting with that discomfort, they throw the question at me. Again. And again.
But I refuse to let that define me.
I’m not living by someone else’s script.
If and when I choose to marry, it will be because I want to not because I’m pressured, not because I’m fed up of being asked, and certainly not to make anyone else feel more comfortable with my life.
So stop asking.
If you truly cared, you’d listen.
You’d respect where I am.
You’d let me breathe.
This chapter isn’t just about marriage. It’s about the pressure to conform. It’s about reclaiming the right to live life on your own terms without shame, without apology.
And if that bothers you, maybe it’s time to ask yourself:
Why do you care so much about how I live?
I Don’t Want What You Want
People always say,
“Get married. Have babies. Who’s going to look after you when you get older?”
But I don’t want to play by those rules.
I don’t want to have children just because it’s expected.
I don’t want what you want.
I don’t care about what you care about.
I am my own person.
I have my own dreams, my own hopes, and my own way I want to live my life.
I’m not here to fulfil anyone else’s expectations.
I’m not here to tick boxes or follow a script someone else wrote for me.
I want to live for myself fiercely, freely, and unapologetically.
I’m tired of the endless advice and assumptions.
Of the questions disguised as care, the unsolicited opinions, the worry masquerading as judgement.
You say, “Who will look after you when you’re older?” as if that is the only way to live a worthy life.
But I see a different path.
Maybe I won’t have children. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll build a family in ways you don’t yet understand.
Maybe I’ll find love on my own terms or maybe I won’t.
Maybe my happiness won’t come from a spouse or a child, but from the life I build alone or with friends, with purpose, with passion.
I don’t owe anyone an explanation.
My life is not a public project for you to manage or question.
I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your plans for me.
I am not yours to control.
I am not a chapter in your story.
I am my own story and I’m writing it every day.
So please, leave me alone with your questions, your judgements, your expectations.
I am busy living.
I Have Standards
I respect myself.
I care about myself.
I know what I want from life.
And I will not settle.
I will not settle just to get married and have children.
If I choose to marry, it will be because it’s with someone I care about deeply someone I truly want by my side.
Someone with whom I feel I can build a healthy, strong partnership.
Otherwise, there’s no point.
In many communities, girls are told not to have standards.
They are taught to settle to marry simply because that’s what’s expected of them.
Because their entire worth is measured by the title of ‘married’.
And if you’re not married, people assume something must be wrong with you.
I completely disagree.
Choosing your own path means setting your own standards.
And I want every girl, every woman, to know this:
Choose your own path.
Don’t let anyone pressure you into settling.
Don’t settle for someone you don’t genuinely believe is worth sharing your life with.
You deserve respect, love, and a partnership that lifts you up not one that limits you.
And that begins with valuing yourself.
The Power of Saying No
Saying no is not rude. It’s not unkind. It’s not selfish.
It’s a powerful act of self-respect.
As women, many of us are taught to say yes to be agreeable, polite, and accommodating.
We’re raised to put others first, to avoid conflict, to keep the peace even at the expense of our own comfort.
But there comes a point when constantly saying yes begins to cost us our energy, our boundaries, our dreams.
Learning to say no is one of the most important forms of self-protection.
No to pressure.
No to expectations.
No to people who don’t respect your space, your feelings, or your worth.
No to things that drain your energy and disturb your peace.
Saying no is not always easy. In fact, it can be incredibly difficult.
Sometimes, it means disappointing people.
It can mean being misunderstood, judged, or even rejected.
But do you know what’s worse?
Living a life where your voice doesn’t matter even to yourself.
When you say no to what doesn’t align with you, you are saying yes to what does.
Yes to rest.
Yes to your standards.
Yes to your goals, your time, your healing, your growth.
Yes to a life that feels right for you not one shaped by guilt or fear.
You don’t owe anyone access to your life just because they ask.
You don’t owe anyone an explanation for choosing your peace.
You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to protect your energy. You are allowed to put yourself first.
This kind of strength doesn’t always look loud or dramatic.
Sometimes, it’s a quiet but firm “No, thank you.”
Other times, it’s walking away in silence when someone crosses a line.
Whatever form it takes, your no is valid.
You don’t need to apologise for it.
You don’t need to soften it for the sake of being liked.
Saying no is not the opposite of kindness it’s the foundation of self-kindness.
So I’ll say it again:
Saying no does not make you bad.
It makes you brave.
The Silence Between Us
Sometimes it’s not the questions that sting.
It’s the silence.
The awkward pauses.
The shifting eyes.
The way people quickly change the subject when they realise I’m not living the life they expect.
It’s the silence at family gatherings when they talk about someone else’s engagement and skip over me.
It’s the pity in their eyes when they say nothing at all.
It’s the feeling that I’m being quietly judged not for what I’ve done, but for what I haven’t.
That silence speaks volumes.
It says: “We don’t understand you.”
It says: “You don’t fit.”
It says: “We don’t know what to do with a woman who chooses herself.”
And sometimes, that hurts more than words ever could.
Because being misunderstood is its own kind of isolation.
You start to question yourself.
You wonder if maybe you are the problem.
You sit with your thoughts and try to explain to yourself what no one else seems to want to understand.
But I’ve learnt something in those quiet moments:
I am not broken.
I am not behind.
I am not a problem to be fixed or a puzzle to be solved.
I am simply choosing a different path.
One that doesn’t revolve around being chosen.
One that is built on purpose, not pressure.
Yes, I get lonely.
There are days when I crave someone who truly sees me
Not as a project, not as a question mark,
But as a whole woman, content in who she is.
But that longing doesn’t make me weak.
It makes me human.
And still, I choose this life.
Still, I choose my truth.
Still, I’d rather be misunderstood in my honesty than praised for pretending.
The silence used to make me feel small.
Now, it makes me feel strong.
Because I know what it means:
I’ve stopped performing.
I’ve stopped trying to fit in where I don’t belong.
I’ve made peace with not being everyone’s idea of “successful”.
There’s power in that.
There’s peace.
And the beautiful thing is
I’m not truly alone.
There are so many of us walking quietly through the noise,
Women who have chosen to honour themselves.
Women who carry invisible strength.
Women who refuse to apologise for their joy, even when it looks different from everyone else’s.
So, to the ones who feel the silence too
I see you.
I hear you.
You are not alone in your aloneness.
We’re building something far more powerful than approval.
We’re building lives that are real.
Rooted.
Unapologetic.
And maybe one day, they’ll stop asking.
Maybe one day, they’ll sit with us in the silence and finally understand:
We were never waiting to be rescued.
We were building peace.
This Is My Joy
This is my joy.
Not the one you imagined for me.
Not the one you keep asking about.
But the one I chose slowly, intentionally, piece by piece.
Joy, for me, is not waiting for someone to complete me.
It’s found in mornings when I wake up in my own space, with my own plans.
It’s in silence that doesn’t feel lonely.
It’s in the freedom to follow what feels right, not what’s expected.
This is my joy.
To walk at my own pace.
To take the long way round if I feel like it.
To build a life that reflects my soul, not just my status.
Joy is not only found in weddings, children, or ticking boxes.
It lives in deep conversations with friends who truly see me.
It’s in doing nothing, without guilt.
It’s in rest. In tea. In music. In movement.
In the fullness of ordinary days that belong to me.
This is my joy.
It’s quiet. It’s gentle.
But it’s mine.
And I will not trade it for approval.
I wish we were taught earlier that joy can look different for every woman.
That fulfilment doesn’t always come in a way others understand or expect.
Some may never see the beauty in a life like mine.
They may call it selfish, sad, or incomplete.
But I know better.
Because I feel it.
Peace in my chest.
Softness in my bones.
Room to grow.
This is my joy.
And I will protect it with everything I have.
Because joy isn’t something I stumbled upon.
It’s something I chose.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Dear you,
Thank you for making it this far.
Thank you for holding these words with care, for listening not just to me but to yourself.
This was never only about marriage.
It was about the pressure. The questions. The expectations.
But more than anything, it was about the quiet strength it takes to live truthfully, especially as a woman.
If you’ve ever felt like you were falling behind, like something was wrong with you, like you needed to rush into someone else’s timeline just to feel worthy, I want you to pause and breathe.
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are not lacking.
You are becoming.
And that, in itself, is sacred.
You don’t have to apologise for wanting something different.
You don’t have to justify your peace.
You don’t need permission to live a life that feels right for you.
Whether you choose marriage or not, motherhood or not, a quiet life or a loud one let it be yours.
Let it reflect who you are, not who you’re told to be.
There is beauty in choosing yourself.
There is power in honouring your own path.
And there is deep joy in living gently, honestly, and freely even when the world doesn’t understand.
So here’s to you:
For the life you’re building.
For the freedom you’re protecting.
For the woman you’ve become and are still becoming.
Keep going.
You are not alone.
With love,
Nimco