Saturday July 12 2014

Whose responsibilities?

By Eugene Mugisha

Girls are indeed strange and curious creatures. Ever since she decided my car is a DMC, she behaves as if riding in it is doing me some kind of favour.

The same car she has been riding in ever since we starting dating, yet she has never even replaced a side mirror on it.

Not even when she took it out and brought it back minus all peripherals. No, she considers the car my responsibility. And she won’t pitch in no matter what.

Considering that I wasn’t paid a salary last month, since I am on some kind of indefinite suspension from work, I am running low on cash.
And she is fully aware of it.

Not that I expect it of her to give me money for my own needs, but for shared responsibilities, I can’t help but feel like she is being unreasonable. She left me stranded the other day when the car run out of fuel; and she got out, got a motorcycle and took off, claiming she was in a hurry.

No, I let that one go too. What I won’t let go is that time when the gas ran out and she took off.

It was early morning, and she was making us a quick breakfast before she could run off to another of the endless girl-errands. I made the tea, put it in the flash, and she went in to make the food.

Then, I heard her swear, something she rarely does. Thinking she’d cut herself or something worse, I went to check. And she was standing there, shaking her head in disappointment while glaring at the cooker.

I knew immediately that the gas had run out. So, she got her cup, got some tea, took it while she dressed up and walked out of the house.

At this point, nothing seems wrong with that picture; it is my house, the gas is my responsibility. She has in fact replaced that gas several times. I had no grudge with her about her walking out when it ran out. But, three days later, she came back and found it still empty. I haven’t replaced it for two reasons.
One, I can do without it. Two ties in with one, more so now that cash is tight. She asked me why the gas was still empty, and I had nothing to tell her. I couldn’t start telling her that I didn’t need it that much, or that I was low on cash, she surely was aware of that.

And least of all, I didn’t know how to start telling her that since she had introduced the demarcation of tasks, I felt less inclined to buy the gas. In the end, I ended up borrowing from her to buy the gas so she could make her snacks on it.

That was the easiest way to a happy conclusion for everyone. We are not even married, but the battle lines have already been drawn.