Living in Addis will have any single woman my age feeling like they are some kind of social leper. I have of course mentioned this before in the context that women are expected to wed and be living a certain lifestyle by the time they reach an unquestionable number that is considered ripe for the picking.

Time and time again I have looked around at the people that I know that are in loving relationships and sat there and thought now why in the world is it that I do not have that. It is a strange conversation that I have with myself when people in this state surround me.

I never really have the chance to openly talk about this with the very few women that are in my life, as they are all part of that bunch. Or worse, they have all this advice to give with the false confidence that as they are able to keep men, then the same method should apply to you; little do they know.

I mainly just do not talk about it and I figure that I will find the reason some day as time has a way of revealing all things. I come up with all sort of implausible explanations for things being the way that they are, they are often fantastical and even bordering on the slightly neurotic. But, being that they are houses built on sand, I can often convince myself of their idiocy, and move on about my merry way. Now we could delve into that whole set of issues but that is another theme for another column that I will write at some undisclosed time.

I wallowed in this self-pity, thinking that there is something that has happened with me that should not have happened and that was the reason why I was pushing thirty with no long term prospects in sight (and that does not even include that big M word). I got caught up in that trip for a while until something made me decide that it was totally undeserved and nauseating if I may say so myself. But one of the friends that I mentioned a couple of columns back, sort of made me shed that whole mentality. Allow me to explain.

Growing up, I had a clique. There were about 10 of us in total, six of which had been together since the first grade.  The four of us graduated high school at the same school that we attended since kindergarten. The other four, sort of floated in during our middle school and high school stages in life, and they also floated right back out before we had the opportunity to go through the whole senior year experience which is the best in life if I may add.

Anyhow, these young women are now accomplished, educated, beautiful and caring women. They have wonderful jobs and homes and families, the clique is still together in the States, all sort of hovering around the capital of the so-called free world and the second Addis Abeba. I would like to imagine that if I were to return I would sort of meld back into that familiar life as well.

At any rate, that is not the point of me setting the scene; this whole thing really boils down to the fact that none of us, I mean not a single one of the nucleus of that bunch is in that “lovey-dovey” all wonderful relationship that is all around. And believe you me they are all around.

And you know what that sort of news brings to my heart? Comfort and joy. Now do not get me wrong here, this is not to say that I do not wish my friends wonderful loves and all the attentions, comfort and happiness that one can get from a companion, far from that. What I do mean to imply is that I no longer feel as though there is something wrong on this side of the fence, if you know what I mean.

So, in one of our daily conversations, one of those young ladies and I were talking about what it was that had all of us, and I mean all of us, in the circumstances that we find ourselves in during the present. You know what her answer was? The grey area. I could not for the life of me figure out what in the world she was talking about.

So she was kind enough to explain. She said that the grey area is where men like to hover; you know that manner d’etre where they want to be in a relationship but then are not ready to carry the responsibilities and the burdens that go with it. It is really a ‘we have no idea what we really want’ situation.

And so my fears have been eased and my repose and tranquillity restored because it is all the men’s fault. And you know what I like more than being right? A scapegoat.