UnCommon

As much as it interests everyone to have the fairytale kind of love, we have to be honest that not everyone will. There are some that will be absolutely unlucky in their choices with divorce or death being the only way out, some will be forced into single parenting, some will die single because they refuse to lower their expectations and are being told to have faith, others will claim to have been pushed into being lesbians because men weren’t forthcoming. On the sidelines, however, are the small group that is realists and are aggressively honest with themselves. They do not believe in love at first sight nor do they believe in fairytales. They know that relationships take hard work, and are willing to do it if they found someone as willing as they, to do it with. It is in this group that I, unfortunately, find myself.
As a child, I used to be wary of topics that dwelled on marriages, although a childish part of me wanted the prince charming tales to be true. The more I hoped to one day meet my charming prince, the more I told myself there were no such things in reality. I knew from a young age that men would always cheat, they would always nag, and they will never be completely satisfied. I had watched my parents closely and I learned. As a father, my dad has always been the greatest but as a husband? He wasn’t exactly charming… Yet my mom worked hard on the marriage, and she managed to keep it together. I watched my mom work tirelessly to become compatible with her husband, and I took down notes.
I learned that there is nothing like “compatibility” in relationships. Compatibility on its own is a choice. When you make a conscious decision to be with someone, and you work together with the sole purpose of keeping your relationship, then you start being compatible. It does take 2 Afterall, to tangle.
I learned more just by watching other people than on my own- especially when I barely ever experience anything different from my “norm”. This prepared me for the harsh realities of being in relationships so I always kept my expectations low. So low, that I never believed any man could be faithful or loyal to a woman nor did I believe that any man could be totally trusted. I tried as much as possible to be close friends with my men and only asked for their complete honesty. I would like to know when you are cheating on me, and the escapades you have with the guys. That was my genius plan to having my own happy ever after. Somehow though, they still couldn’t manage to tell the truth even to a girl willing to take as much bullshit as she could (However, abuse of any form, is certainly not included in the relationship agreement and will never be condoned). Obviously, my single status for the past 5 years is proof that I didn’t find men willing to work hard enough for a stable relationship.
Did I mention relationships are hard work? And dating is even harder. Now humour me with this;
While dating and being confused about making the “right choice”, I meet a complete stranger that I am attracted to. Maybe not totally a stranger, but I had only ever met him from a distance. So, we got talking, chatting, and getting to know a bit more about each other. It was no secret that there was a sizzling passion brewing between us and it felt like it would explode. In three weeks of constant communication and hangouts, we decided to throw caution in the wind and get married. We both belong to the group of realists and we both wanted to make it work. We knew society would judge us, so we kept it secret. In the fourth week of our meeting, we went to the registry with a friend each as witnesses. We took our vows, and exchanged rings, becoming one for all eternity. Of course, we had our wedding night, and neither of us was disappointed. We returned back to our previous lives- me, as a single girl living with her parents & him, a bachelor devoted to his work and flirting with girls. We did not see often, but we knew our truth deep in our hearts. We were married before we began to get to know each other well, but we stuck together anyway because we were committed to the same cause.
It was a year later when I realised I was expecting our first child, that we informed our families of it all. We did a small traditional ceremony, for our families. They felt completely shut out of our lives, so we sort of appeased them with a wedding ceremony they could participate in. It’s been 10years, and we are still going strong. We still respect and love each other as we have always done, and we are still committed to making it work. Was I lucky? Yes, but I worked very hard for it!

Commitment is the reason two strangers come together and remain together!

Con Amor

Victimised Villain

The day Folahan proposed to me, was the happiest day of my life. He went all out to make it a memorable and special one. There was chocolates, flowers, wine, great food and afterwards, incredible sex. He promised me a lifetime of love, affection, attention, and passion. He made me feel like Cinderella being charmed by the prince. Indeed, he was my Mr Perfect timing all wrapped in a delicious chocolate form. My life was sailing on the right track, exactly the way it should and when it should. I was on top of the world.
We got married six months after the most beautiful proposal, in a very glam ceremony. People came from far and wide to be a part of our day, as well as celebrate with us. It was exceptional! Life was beautiful, as you can imagine…
Three weeks later, and I had begun to question everything I knew. Folahan had become a totally different person. He spent his days making me feel worthless and spent the nights giving various doses of “discipline”. I began to question my knowledge of what love meant. I wondered if this truly was how men portrayed their affection to their wives.
Once, after a really long day at work (before I was forced to resign), I got home tired but still attempted doing all my chores for the night for the fear of being slapped against the wall. I put in the extra effort that night to make his favourite meal, just to avoid any sort of confrontations, pounded yam and egusi soup. That night, the first slap I received was because I did not get to the door as fast as he wanted. My explanations of getting dinner ready for him earned me a second slap across the cheek, “why is dinner still in the kitchen, and not already served on the table?” he said. At the end of that day, he dragged me out of the kitchen where I was cleaning to bed, had his way with me forcefully regardless of my tired state, woke me up an hour earlier than usual with an early morning beating because the kitchen was untidy (forgetting that he stopped me from doing just that). A typically normal day, now that I think about it.
An example of a bad day would be one where he beat me blue and black for visiting a friend or speaking to a man- any man. A truly terrible day would have him come home drunk and unleash all his anger on me. On days like these, I get to be verbally abused, beaten thoroughly, and raped by my husband.
This is a man I have loved passionately for many years. All the efforts invested, and the emotions?. I entrusted my life to this man, I gave him my all- my body, my soul, my spirit. I sailed on a journey to forever land with a complete stranger. A stranger that I vowed to love and cherish, above everyone else, till death do us apart. I am completely spent and drained from so much hurt, from pain, and all the tears. I have willed myself to fight back for the sake of my unborn child. I should probably tell you about my other pregnancies. Four times…. Four freaking times, Folahan has beat my babies out of me, all in the space of 3 years. This is my fifth conception and I'll be damned if I give him the power to take it from me again.
Then leave, many of you would say. Well, I tried to once, after I lost my third pregnancy. In fact, I had resolved to divorce him. I went home to my parents and told them my plight. Naturally, they were angry and disappointed in Folahan so they sent for him. When he came, what I saw totally shocked me. Folahan had changed; his attitude, countenance, talk, walk, everything took me back 5years. He was the absolute gentleman that chased me relentlessly years ago. He was sweet, kind and romantic. In short, he was the total opposite of everything I told my parents. He had made me look like a liar in the presence of my family. He gave them some bull story about us having a lovers spat, and got them empathising with him. It was like a drama unfolding before me, and even before it happened, I knew where it would end:- me, going back to his house as a patient and tolerant wife.
A small part of me hoped, really hoped that my husband had changed for good, possibly at the thought of losing me but my gut kept telling me it was shortlived. And it was. As soon as Folahan drove me back home from my parent’s, the beatings came more frequently and worse. I covered up my pain, my bruises, and my heartbreak.
I had gotten to the point of being suicidal until I found out that I was pregnant for the fifth time in my marriage. Loosing this was not an option, nor was letting him find out about it.
So, I made a plan and patiently waited.
It was one of those drunken nights that Folahan made a total mess of himself. As usual, I got a verbal insult when I opened the door and tried to help him. I really did not mean to hurt him that day, but all that changed when he looked up from the water I had just given him and decided it was my body he wanted for dinner. I tried to pull away, but he held on tight and I could see the anger rising in the depth of his eyes. So I changed tactics, knowing that a violent rape may kill the little one, I smiled at him and stripped (maybe it was a fantasy come true… ), because he smiled like a predator who had finally cornered its prey. I chose not to allow this one night get violent at all. I got atop my husband and gave him my genuine consent for the first time in our marriage. The sex was explosive, and orgasm even better. For a man that came home almost in a drunken state, Folahan seemed more alert and happy, but I had gotten my chance. It was time for my freedom and I wasn’t going to let it pass me by. He wanted to go another round, and if I refused, I would still get raped. I quickly told him I was thirsty and went to the kitchen. I made a cup of coffee for my husband and grounded some sodium cyanide into it. I got myself a glass of juice and did the same thing. When I got back to the room, Folahan was more than ready to go the second round, he was actually stroking himself. His manhood seemed to spring alive when its owner looked at me. I sat beside him on the bed and gave him a bright smile, told him I made him coffee for his tipsiness and he accepted it. He drank the coffee halfway and immediately dived for me. I left the mango juice I had poisoned on the bedside table, and next to the coffee. I gave him what he wanted so badly- a consented sex, with him on top. I told him to take it easy because I was going nowhere, and he obliged. Eventually, we ended up making love and a part of me was beginning to regret my action. Maybe it was too soon? Maybe I shouldn’t have? maybe he would change for good? As I battled with my conscience, Folahan climaxed and hung on to me for a few seconds before he rolled off me and took a large swig of the very cold juice. I slept in his arms that night. When I woke up, my husband had stopped breathing beside me. He was dead! Finally! But I felt no joy, I wasn’t elated, nothing… I just seemed indifferent somehow. I got out of bed and made the phone calls I was expected to make. The police, his parents, my parents and his best friend. I removed the cup of coffee and juice that I had poisoned, poured the remnant away and washed the glasses. Then, I went back upstairs with a half glass of water to replace the poisoned glass. I removed the unused cyanide from the kitchen and flushed it. Afterwhich, I put my pregnancy test result on the bedside table close to Folahan’s body. Then I waited calmly for the tears to come, his family, and the ambulance.
My story?
He was angry that I did not make his favourite meal the day before, so throughout today, he refused to eat my food. He then went out clubbing with his boys, got back really late and tipsy, but was elated when I gave him the news of our unborn child. We made love and slept in each other’s arm until I awoke and found him dead.

Con Amor

Confessions of the sinful saint #2

Talk!

We did, and what he told me hurt a lot more than seeing him with another woman that morning. Rokan told me that I was a nobody, literally. He admitted to consciously starting our relationship as a mere fling, and how he ended up falling in love with me. He told me how many sleepless nights he had been through, because of his guilt and confused state. He told me everything sweet and reassuring, but I am still the “trash” in his life. I am the side chick, the mistress, the lover, the kept woman, the secret. I have been sitting on the other side of the fence and I didn’t even know it. The other woman, that many girlfriends curse for even existing at all.

Rokan and the lady I saw that morning had been dating for over 6years. She is the one every member of his family knew as “wifey”, asides the small exception of his kid sister and brother (only members of his family I knew). He described their relationship in detail to me, and how much help she rendered when he was struggling to educate himself. He admitted to loving her a lot until he met me. According to him, her family had begun prepping for an engagement that they believed would take place between them sometime that year. He knelt before me and begged me for mercy. The way he wept like a newborn drew my heart to him, and I held him in my arms while trying to make sense of it all. We ended up making love right there in the living room.

Some time has passed since then, and we sort of went back to our routine. Of course, things had changed. I was more conscious of the danger I was in- (emotionally, physically, spiritually and psychologically), and less confident of his love for me. This is the man, the only man that has given me amazing experiences. He has loved me, respected my intellect and worshipped my body. This is the man that makes my world brighter when he was around. He made the butterflies in my tummy blush. Rokan has made my life meaningful in the past year that we have been dating. I know that I should have left him since I found out I was his side girl, but he has given me a reason to truly live. I just can't stop loving him, and I am not even willing to let go of him. The feeling was mutual, but he also felt indebted to the other woman. He had stopped saying it to my face that he was also in love with her, but I knew he was. He loved that woman a lot, only I have no idea if it is as much as he loves me or less. I knew what the right thing to do was- leave the couple alone to spend their lives happily ever after. But I can’t. I wasn’t willing to leave him as it might jeopardise my sanity. He is my first and only. My body yearns for his, and only his touch. He’s the man I connect with on every level, next to perfection. He has become a drug for my addiction. Hell, he IS my addiction! How can I give him up to another? Is it selfish of me? Is it wicked? Is it stupid, or irresponsible? Is it wrong? Is it worst of all sins?… I have beaten myself up over this for the past couple of months, but I choose my own happiness. I know that every principle I represent opposes what I currently am, and I will probably come to hate myself more than I already have, but I choose to be selfish this time. I want to satisfy me first, before anyone else. None of these changes the fact that I am the other woman, but Rokan keeps giving me a sense of hope with his love. It's like I only exist in my own little bubble of the world now. This happiness can’t only be my imagination, can it? I try to ignore many things, but how can I ignore this life that is inhibited, and without a promise of tomorrow?.
One day at a time, he says “Baby, let’s just take each day as it comes”…

...Con Amor

Confessions of the sinful saint #1

Having spent all my life differentiating wrong from right, it is a wonder how I found myself in my current predicament. I never would have thought in a million years, that the woman I was staring at in the mirror would be me. But was it really? Of course, I recognize my body standing there, my own hands are what I see holding myself, it is my eyes I see, clouded in its depth with sadness and pain, staring back at me in the mirror. How I have become this woman I stare at, is what beats me. How did I completely let go of all my principles, my right and wrong? How did I get things so wrong? How did I become this? The other woman…
When I became the other woman is a good place to start. I was 22 years old when I first met Rokan at a mutual friend’s party. The party was legit. Every important Corper in Lagos state was there. It was the last party we would attend before passing out and collecting our NYSC certificates the next day. Rokan and I were introduced at the party, and it’s safe to say that we hit it right up. We spent hours talking and laughing as though we had known each other for ages. We just connected in a way I had never done with any other, before. It was extraordinary. It was like something sprang alive inside me when he hugged me that night.
Rokan and I began our love affair shortly after that. Everything with him just felt right. He couldn’t go wrong as far as I was concerned. I got a job with a bank, that coincidentally was just two blocks away from Rokan’s place of work. With this development, our relationship got even stronger (if that’s possible). We went to work together, had lunch together, and returned home together. Life was beautiful, and I couldn’t believe my luck. This is a successful good looking young man that was thoroughly in love with me, and I reciprocated the love with even greater intensity. Rokan broke my virginity less than 4months into our relationship: He could no longer wait, he said. After all, I would be his for the taking eventually. The introduction of sex to our relationship made the bond grow more. We couldn’t get enough of each other, nor could we bear to be apart from the other for only 2 days.
On a hot Saturday morning, I left my house with the intent of going to make a new hairstyle at the salon. Halfway there, I remembered that I had left my new weave in Rokan’s house the previous weekend. Thing is, it had become some sort of a norm for me to go over to Rokan’s place every Saturday evening, spend the night, and then make him food that would sustain him through each week. As I parked my car in front of the gate, I saw an incredibly beautiful fair woman walk out of his gate and a few seconds later, Rokan followed. Our eyes locked and I could see the guilt in his. I did not even need to ask, I had seen enough. Before his companion could notice what was amiss, he smiled. He looked down at her and put her into an Uber cab that had just arrived. Although I did not hear it, I felt him tell her he loved her… And I wept.
As soon as the cab was out of sight, he opened my car door and began to apologize. He kept saying he could explain. After about an hour of us both crying our hearts out, outside his home, I finally agreed to be led inside. We sat down in the living room and the only question I could come up with was “why cheat? Where did I displease you?”. Rokan stared at me with such intensity that frightened me, and then he sighed. “We have to talk”, he said.

Con Amor

After thought...

Someone brought it to my attention recently that I have adopted the habit of writing a lot about heartbreaks, abuse, violence, generally all the opposites of love. This has become a norm for me, as I’ve realised.
I have now decided to try my best to focusing more on love. It might be a little difficult as I have been out of touch with the feeling in a while, but I intend to try.
First, I need to set the record straight. I am a romantic, as opposed to popular belief. I do love the idea of falling in love and living happily ever after. I enjoy the idea of a man and a woman being thoroughly and absolutely in love, that nothing could ever go wrong. And contrary to what I may have portrayed in my posts, I do hope to get the same feeling someday.
The reason I have spent so much time on abuse and violence in relationships is to draw awareness to it. I need our women to know it is not alright to be abused by any man in a relationship and our men to understand it is their responsibility to avoid confrontation getting violent in that relationship. I want the world to be a better place for our children, where they won’t have to see the horrors of a married couple killing each other through domestic violence daily.
As I have mentioned in past write-ups, it is our responsibility to teach the female child that a man has no right to abuse her in any way. Let’s give them the knowledge that a true gentleman will never abuse her. Tell our girls that if they should find themselves in such a predicament, then to please leave. We need to stress this point as many times as it takes for them to assimilate it. “It is okay for you to leave an abusive relationship unapologetic. It is your life, and you deserve to be happy in peace while you live it”…
On the other hand, please let us train our boys to be the gentlemen we want our girls to meet. We need to teach them how to avoid confrontations, or at least end it without violence. We have to make them understand that it is never right to hit a woman, no matter the circumstances.
If there are no good examples to train them by, let us teach them that the behaviour of society is not always right. They should be taught the difference between right and wrong.
They should be trained to always protect their women, young or old. Their conscious state as men should know that mere witnessing a woman being cheated or abused without standing up for her, is absolutely unacceptable. They should be raised with only an ideology about women – they are beautiful and should be treated with dignity and love. I will love to see a young boy hold the car door open for his sister, and show little gestures to his female friends in school without having to debate internally whether to treat women with respect it not.
Mould your sons into the kind of men you would be proud of meeting so that the future generations of women will bless you for a good job well done!

Con Amor

Sacrifice

I don’t know about you, but I would rather be with a man who pretends, seems like the devil, admits to making mistakes by being human; but loves me truthfully and thoroughly. If I had such a man now, I wouldn’t give him up for anything in the world. I would spend my days loving him, and nights making love to him because I would want to cherish every minute we got to spend together. I would rather be with this man for 5 beautiful months than be with an angelic-looking demon for 5 horrible years.
It is such a mistake that I made when I left a man who showed me, love, in every little way he could just because my parents did not approve of him. He is the sort of man who just looking at him, gave the impression that he was a good for nothing being, but I loved him regardless. He did the little things for me in the brief period we spent together. He opened my doors, tied my shoelaces, combed my hair, he cooked for me, fed me, held me close, cuddled me every chance he got, he made me laugh and kept a constant smile on my lips. This man, this gorgeous specimen of a man loved me like nobody else ever has done. For 5 incredible months, I felt on top of the world. And I left all this love, just to be with the man my parents approve of. I knew it was a decision I would regret, but what choice did I have? It is said that parents are sacred and must be respected no matter what; their wishes must be accepted without question and their wants, have to become yours. This angelic looking man wooed my family first before me. He planted himself within my household and acted like he was the best man alive. I did not even argue with my parents when they made their decision.
I wasted no time in doing as I was instructed. Although my heart was with the man I loved, I left him to be with the one my parents favoured and I resolved to try my best to make it work with him. We began dating and got married in the space of 4 months. From our wedding night, I knew I had made a terrible mistake. I heard my new husband speaking with his mistress from the bathroom of our honeymoon suite about missing her, about wishing she was the one he had married earlier that day. He loved her, and this did not hurt me as much as it should have. Being his new wife, it should have hurt a lot, but my own lover whose heart I had broken a bare 4 months ago resounded in my head. I swallowed the insult, accepting it as my first lesson in marriage. I couldn’t possibly walk out of my marriage after 10 hours, could I? So, I resolved to do my best to make it work. Even if I had to accept the knowledge that my husband is in love with another woman. He must love me too right? At least a little? Else would he be married to me this day?
I tried my best. God knows I tried my best to do everything for this man. I tried to love him unconditionally, but he made it so damn difficult. He was barely around, he made it quite obvious that he detests me (except when we have an audience of course). I remained with him, lovingly and faithfully for 5 horrible years before I couldn’t take it anymore. He was abusive in so many ways; verbally, psychologically, emotionally and a little physically. Although his physical abuse was occasional slaps across the face and a time when he kicked me across the abdomen – an act that caused my premature abortion -, the hurt he inflicted on me was extreme. I knew the solution was to walk out of the marriage, but fear of being a disappointment to my parents kept me in a loveless marriage for 5 years.
He didn’t even try. Didn’t contest the divorce, didn’t beg me to stay; nothing. I wasted 5 years of my life with a man who could never love me, all because I was trying to be a good child. Trying to be my parent’s pride and source of joy.
I do not regret doing my parent’s wish, but I do regret not making an effort for the love I lost. I didn’t even put up a fight. I just accepted it easily, for fear of being judged, for 5 damn years!

Con Amor

Beautiful Mess...

Cheating is so easy, especially when she doesn’t know she wanted to cheat. It happens suddenly, smoothly and even unconsciously. Her husband stops complimenting her, he barely gave her what she desired most- his attention. The only thing that seemed like attention now, were slaps, corrections and shouts. Things that were beckoning the demons he had planted in her to surface.
Giving in to the demons raging inside of her, she succumbed to the attention a stranger gave her, blushed at a strangers compliments, and even began to care in her heart for the said stranger.
She doesn’t want to, but she did give him a chance to grow on her, and he did. Oh, yes he did. The first time they made love was nothing but a mistake, a mistake that ended up making them both feel horrible. Her husband, she thought… She had just betrayed her husband. She could stop, she decided. Pretend it never happened, and just move on, continue loving her husband. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? She could have given in to the demons by committing suicide, she could even have committed murder. Instead, she took a step that made her feel whole again, alive even. Mere memories of that encounter with the stranger made her yearn for many more.
Easy to forget him, she repeats for the millionth time. Well, it wasn’t as easy as words. Her heart had stopped loving the man she vowed to always love, without even realizing it. She had begun to care more for the stranger than she did her husband.
When had she become this woman, this adulterer? How did she miss the battle going on deep inside of her? Or maybe she had just ignored it?
The unhappiness, the tears, the excuses she made on his behalf. She should have listened to herself when she had the chance, she should have voiced out her bitterness, she ought to have stood her ground and never made him lay a finger on her in the filthiest possible way. She should have known it was over, long before it ever started. She should have accepted her truth.
Now, she has an unhappy and violent husband who blames her for his misfortunes, and a stranger… A stranger she made a mistake with, but cannot get out of her system…


...Con Amor