23rd May, 2015
I bask in the glory that he reaches out to me as early as 3 am reciting love poetry or recalling our love escapades but no matter how hung up i am to the past or how needy to those words at the moment, what still remains as the unscathed truth is the man is still a boy.
So what if he had to marry her because she got pregnant for him. if he could service the need then he should man the deed. So what if he didn’t realize she wasn’t all that before they married. So what if she nags, is dirty or cheats. i have my own big flaws. To have someone i care about diss them that way is unimaginable.
Oh yes i love him and yes most times i wish his wife could die so i can have him all to myself but if i tell myself the unadulterated truth i know he will do same to me. Marriage is such a huge responsibility and making a mockery of it no matter how it was contracted which by the way is no business of mine is quiet demeaning and says a lot about the concerned parties.
I kinda hate love. Love has left its scars and its reminder in a 3 am message of frustration and lust. Love has left an anger in name tags of ‘husband snatcher’,’ashawo’, ‘other woman’, ‘mistress’. I smile and act like all is okay. Open my legs wide as he fills me the only way i call bliss with the false euphoria numbing the guilt that only me can elicit the oohhhhs and aaahhha as he pours his seed in me and the thrust of contraceptive with a kiss.
I see the tears of friends and colleagues as they emaciate in agony over the absconding husband or recall experience with tears streaming down like a heavy Lagos downpour. I hear the curses on the strange woman in the life of their men. I am hidden from the knowledge of trusted friends and family and i wonder is this all i want in this life.
Oh well, as much as i desire the likes of Oshobaba. Men; with the pride of age evident in grey hair and government money, i did make do with dudes like Kunle and his wife palava as long as my rent is paid and there is guaranteed orgasm.