My boyfriend bought a new car. He came to pick me up that very day so we could go and test the car. He came with instructions. I had to sit still like a statue in the car and not move my legs. Wherever I placed my legs, he complained that I was making the car dirty. “Can’t you let your legs stay on the floor?”
FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX
Right there, I knew my place in his life had been taken by the car. The way he polished it. The way he looked at it and, at night, the many times he would visit the car before going to sleep. I can admit without shame, I wished I were the car so he could look at me with the same eyes. He would wake up at dawn and go to pee, but judging by the time he spent out there, you could just tell he went to visit the car.
So one dawn, I woke up to pee too, and when I came back, I tapped him quickly and said, “Hey, wake up, wake up. Where did you park your car? It’s not there.”
He sprang out of the bed instantly and started shouting, “Ewurade, m’awu! Who has stolen my car? It’s not even registered!”
I was in bed laughing when this man opened the outside door and jumped out, only to see his car parked there peacefully and in all its glory. I heard the door bang and knew he was coming back. I was still laughing. Immediately he stepped in, he gave me a huge slap across the face, from left to right. Even when I tried to cover my face, he slapped my hand and slapped my face again.
“How dare you play that silly joke on me? You want to give me a heart attack?”
I remained in bed, shocked, with my hand covering my face, scared that he would strike me again. “The next time you play that silly joke on me, you’ll see what will happen to you.”
And then he walked out of the room, to the hall, to watch his car for the rest of the night. I was crying, but he didn’t care. In the morning, I left without saying goodbye, but he still didn’t mind me. I had always told myself that I wouldn’t stay for a man to hit me twice. I never thought my first hit would be because of a car.
In my mind, it was over. If he could hit me like this because of a car, then what would happen if he bought a plane?
He called in the night trying to apologize. Even the apology came with a warning. “I’m sorry, but next time don’t pull that silly joke on me. It will make me act worse.” I responded, “Dear, please go ahead and date your car. It’s the only thing that won’t pull such a prank on you.”
Contents
What Nobody Tells You About Divorce
He’s still in my inbox begging, and each day he refines his apology to make it better and more polished. But once bitten, twice shy—and if you receive slaps because of a car, then once bitten, several times shy. I’m not going back again. Never! The car is not even nice.
—Frema
This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.
******