I don't know why I felt the need to share this. Maybe because I know this story is that of quite a number of married women I do not know and a few friends I know and maybe because it is going to be the story of loads of desperate single ladies too...
It's just a piece of writing but a mirror of many lives.
I had the writer's permission to share.
I saw all the signs, yet I didn’t leave. I saw all your ways,
yet I was adamant. You gave me all the reasons to run,
still I stayed. All I wanted was to be your wife. To me,
marriage would settle all; I never knew it would be the
beginning of my end.
I remember that rainy Saturday morning. I came from
school the previous day to spend the weekend with you.
You had a week old laundry in the room and begged me to
help you with them. I was on it when you took your bath
and told me you had to go out to watch a match. I said
okay. You left and came back very late, I wasn’t pissed. I
even took out time to buy you dinner from the eatery
where I went, since you bluntly refused to join me there.
PHCN did their usual thing, and I couldn’t locate my phone.
Even if I did, both phones were off, and nature was calling.
I had to borrow yours. On the toilet seat, my curiousity got
the better of me, and I found out that while I was sweating
it out with your dirty clothes, you were lounging with some
girl outside. I couldn’t sleep. Our relationship was just a
month old. I could have walked away, but I didn’t. You
begged and promised that it would never happen again,
which I believed. As usual you wanted us to be on the
same page, like you always said, so you made passionate
love to me, and that was the end.
I remember that weekend I came without informing you.
You had been ill the previous week and I needed to see
you, even as I didn’t plan it. I wanted to be sure you were
fit to travel the following morning. So I left and boarded
that bus without telling you anything. I lied that I was on
my way home from work when you called me. Till I
reached some few metres away from your house, you still
told me you were home and that you couldn’t go out or
drink because you were on drugs. I got into the compound,
saw your car parked outside. I got to the door and sent a
message that I was at the door. Immediately after you
read the message you switched off your data plan and
switched off the phones. I called and called without getting
any response. I waited there for almost one hour. When I
saw the door would never be opened, I settled for passing
the night in a hotel, thank God I had money, in a land
where I had no one. You swore and cursed that you were
out of the house and that your phones were down and that
there was no one with you. I should have left, yet I believe
you, and I still moved on.
I remember that birthday. I had been with you two days
before the day, because I wanted to be the first to wish
you a happy birthday. I saw your ex’s wishes on your wall
and your suggestive response. I flared up and threatened
to scatter the party. I didn’t budge when you told me it was
time to go to the venue. Your friend had to talk to me. I got
to the venue and saw so many of ‘us’. You were confused.
You didn’t know where to turn. You needed to be
everywhere. You needed to please everywhere. Yet I let
your friends talk me into believing that I was your main
girl, the one who would share your bed that night. So what
was the point in struggling or getting jealous, afterall they
were just side chicks. I agreed. The first mistake of my life.
I remember my own birthday. I travelled down to be with
you, because I wanted to wake up in your arms that day. In
spite of yourself, you were so romantic that morning. You
insisted that I didn’t sleep, yet I couldn’t help it. Your
happy birthday voice woke me up, that was the first and
the last time you ever sang for me. I appreciated it. I loved
the warm hug you gave me after the song and the love-
making afterwards.
We repeated the act at dawn. We were to go out that
morning, but the worst happened when I was cleaning your
room and found panties under the mattress. I was mad, I
couldn’t say a word. I just went mute and stopped the
cleaning. In five years, that was the first birthday I would
celebrate without a hitch, and I was already celebrating it,
until I saw that and knew it was a trend. You had spoilt that
year for me again. You didn’t really come out to apologise,
you just managed the situation the way you always did,
and insisted that we went out. We did actually, but I still
had it in my mind. I didn’t forgive you. You had my keys,
and you knew how you managed the situation by yelling at
me, knowing I couldn’t go anywhere, I was stuck to you.
We settled it without me getting any apology, and we
moved on.
I remember that weekend I came to spend with you. It was
Sunday and I wanted to go back. Yet again, I had to clean.
I raised the mattress and found a used condom. I was
broken. I was shattered. I couldn’t cry. Or did I cry? I think
I did. You apologised and said it was never going to
happen again. I believed you. Though you later said you
didn’t do it and that it was a set-up. I should have left, but I
didn’t.
All these memories are not part of various text messages,
several random social network messages to unknown girls,
many times I found broken nails, hair and stuffs in the
house that showed there had been a woman around. Yet I
didn’t care. All I wanted was to be your wife. Even when I
found out that you saved your ex’s number with
‘heartbeat’ and saved mine ordinarily with my name, I still
didn’t leave. Why should I? Didn’t you tell me it was
nothing and that nothing was going on between you? So
what was the point in leaving? So I stayed.
You never proposed to me. We got married because I got
pregnant for you, after I insisted on not having a third
abortion. We got married and that was the beginning of my
end. The girls weren’t calling, they were coming. They
weren’t hiding, they were making appearances. I couldn’t
talk. I couldn’t complain. Wasn’t I the one who wanted to
be your wife at all cost? So I held my peace. You were not
apologetic anymore, you were flaunting them. What was
my problem? Wasn’t I in your house already?
I didn’t know it was time to leave until you got two ladies
pregnant at the same time, and I knew there were threats
to my life already. Not that I was ready to leave though,
my friends actually came to pack my things out of the
house. I was heavily pregnant and there were three
pregnant women in the house already. How would I cope
without getting myself killed? So I left reluctantly.
Deep in my heart I still pray it’s all a dream. And you would
come back one day and tell me it was all a bad joke. God
knows I would still believe you. I am that foolish. I know it
will never happen though. And in spite of everything, I still
love you. I hope I will survive the separation.
It's just a piece of writing but a mirror of many lives.
I had the writer's permission to share.
I saw all the signs, yet I didn’t leave. I saw all your ways,
yet I was adamant. You gave me all the reasons to run,
still I stayed. All I wanted was to be your wife. To me,
marriage would settle all; I never knew it would be the
beginning of my end.
I remember that rainy Saturday morning. I came from
school the previous day to spend the weekend with you.
You had a week old laundry in the room and begged me to
help you with them. I was on it when you took your bath
and told me you had to go out to watch a match. I said
okay. You left and came back very late, I wasn’t pissed. I
even took out time to buy you dinner from the eatery
where I went, since you bluntly refused to join me there.
PHCN did their usual thing, and I couldn’t locate my phone.
Even if I did, both phones were off, and nature was calling.
I had to borrow yours. On the toilet seat, my curiousity got
the better of me, and I found out that while I was sweating
it out with your dirty clothes, you were lounging with some
girl outside. I couldn’t sleep. Our relationship was just a
month old. I could have walked away, but I didn’t. You
begged and promised that it would never happen again,
which I believed. As usual you wanted us to be on the
same page, like you always said, so you made passionate
love to me, and that was the end.
I remember that weekend I came without informing you.
You had been ill the previous week and I needed to see
you, even as I didn’t plan it. I wanted to be sure you were
fit to travel the following morning. So I left and boarded
that bus without telling you anything. I lied that I was on
my way home from work when you called me. Till I
reached some few metres away from your house, you still
told me you were home and that you couldn’t go out or
drink because you were on drugs. I got into the compound,
saw your car parked outside. I got to the door and sent a
message that I was at the door. Immediately after you
read the message you switched off your data plan and
switched off the phones. I called and called without getting
any response. I waited there for almost one hour. When I
saw the door would never be opened, I settled for passing
the night in a hotel, thank God I had money, in a land
where I had no one. You swore and cursed that you were
out of the house and that your phones were down and that
there was no one with you. I should have left, yet I believe
you, and I still moved on.
I remember that birthday. I had been with you two days
before the day, because I wanted to be the first to wish
you a happy birthday. I saw your ex’s wishes on your wall
and your suggestive response. I flared up and threatened
to scatter the party. I didn’t budge when you told me it was
time to go to the venue. Your friend had to talk to me. I got
to the venue and saw so many of ‘us’. You were confused.
You didn’t know where to turn. You needed to be
everywhere. You needed to please everywhere. Yet I let
your friends talk me into believing that I was your main
girl, the one who would share your bed that night. So what
was the point in struggling or getting jealous, afterall they
were just side chicks. I agreed. The first mistake of my life.
I remember my own birthday. I travelled down to be with
you, because I wanted to wake up in your arms that day. In
spite of yourself, you were so romantic that morning. You
insisted that I didn’t sleep, yet I couldn’t help it. Your
happy birthday voice woke me up, that was the first and
the last time you ever sang for me. I appreciated it. I loved
the warm hug you gave me after the song and the love-
making afterwards.
We repeated the act at dawn. We were to go out that
morning, but the worst happened when I was cleaning your
room and found panties under the mattress. I was mad, I
couldn’t say a word. I just went mute and stopped the
cleaning. In five years, that was the first birthday I would
celebrate without a hitch, and I was already celebrating it,
until I saw that and knew it was a trend. You had spoilt that
year for me again. You didn’t really come out to apologise,
you just managed the situation the way you always did,
and insisted that we went out. We did actually, but I still
had it in my mind. I didn’t forgive you. You had my keys,
and you knew how you managed the situation by yelling at
me, knowing I couldn’t go anywhere, I was stuck to you.
We settled it without me getting any apology, and we
moved on.
I remember that weekend I came to spend with you. It was
Sunday and I wanted to go back. Yet again, I had to clean.
I raised the mattress and found a used condom. I was
broken. I was shattered. I couldn’t cry. Or did I cry? I think
I did. You apologised and said it was never going to
happen again. I believed you. Though you later said you
didn’t do it and that it was a set-up. I should have left, but I
didn’t.
All these memories are not part of various text messages,
several random social network messages to unknown girls,
many times I found broken nails, hair and stuffs in the
house that showed there had been a woman around. Yet I
didn’t care. All I wanted was to be your wife. Even when I
found out that you saved your ex’s number with
‘heartbeat’ and saved mine ordinarily with my name, I still
didn’t leave. Why should I? Didn’t you tell me it was
nothing and that nothing was going on between you? So
what was the point in leaving? So I stayed.
You never proposed to me. We got married because I got
pregnant for you, after I insisted on not having a third
abortion. We got married and that was the beginning of my
end. The girls weren’t calling, they were coming. They
weren’t hiding, they were making appearances. I couldn’t
talk. I couldn’t complain. Wasn’t I the one who wanted to
be your wife at all cost? So I held my peace. You were not
apologetic anymore, you were flaunting them. What was
my problem? Wasn’t I in your house already?
I didn’t know it was time to leave until you got two ladies
pregnant at the same time, and I knew there were threats
to my life already. Not that I was ready to leave though,
my friends actually came to pack my things out of the
house. I was heavily pregnant and there were three
pregnant women in the house already. How would I cope
without getting myself killed? So I left reluctantly.
Deep in my heart I still pray it’s all a dream. And you would
come back one day and tell me it was all a bad joke. God
knows I would still believe you. I am that foolish. I know it
will never happen though. And in spite of everything, I still
love you. I hope I will survive the separation.
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