I dated George, now my husband, for four years and he wasn’t talking about marriage. Anytime I asked what we were doing with our lives, he pretended he didn’t know what I meant. So I initiated the conversation. I told him I wanted marriage and wanted to know when he would be ready. He told me he was still looking up to God to see what He would say.
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Usually when men make that statement, they are either not ready to marry you or you’re not the woman they intend to marry. There’s almost always disappointment ahead of that statement. I decided I was going to take my destiny into my own hands and see where it would take me.
One evening, he was coming to my place when he saw me coming from my room with another man. I was walking the man to his car after he had visited. George stood aside and watched me walk this man to his car and drive away.
He asked me, “Who’s that? Have you started entertaining other men?”
I told him he was just a friend who visited after a very long time. He didn’t believe me. He spent all night talking about this man who visited. He called him “the man in the black Mercedes.” I didn’t even know the car he drove.
“Are you sure you’re not doing anything with the man in the black Mercedes?”
“Can you swear that nothing went on when he was in your room?”
“If I take you to a shrine, can you look in the face of the gods and say that man in the black Mercedes didn’t even try to kiss you?”
I don’t know, but from that day, he started putting his act right, talked about marriage, and gave specific dates. Fifteen months later, we got married and moved into my place because I had the bigger space. He didn’t stop talking about the man in the black Mercedes. Every once in a while, when we had a fight, he brought him up.
I figured my place was giving him bad memories about what he saw that day, so I suggested we rent a new place and move. He fought against it, but in the end, I rented a new place and he followed.
He still didn’t stop talking about the man in the black Mercedes. We had our first child and then the second. Our marriage deteriorated to the extent that I wanted to walk out, but this man still didn’t stop talking about the man in the black Mercedes.
One day, seven years into marriage, we had a huge fight. “Go out there and sleep around,” he screamed. “Isn’t that what you’re known for, or you think I’ve forgotten the man in the black Mercedes?”
So I told him the truth.
That guy wanted to marry me. He came around often to beg me to give him a chance, but I always said no. So when George finally made that statement, I told myself, “There’s this man dying to marry me. He’s handsome and well-to-do, but I’m not looking his way because of another man who doesn’t even know if I’m the one he wants to marry. What’s wrong with me?”
I called him that very day and accepted his proposal. A few months later, we were sleeping together, either at his place or mine. I didn’t care if George saw it. That day when George finally met him, the guy had spent the previous night with me and had stayed all day until evening. It was when he was leaving that George came and saw him.
Later, when George started talking about marriage and I realized he was serious about it, I broke up with the man in the black Mercedes. It broke him to pieces. He wanted a reason. He called for me to see him just once, but I blocked him and refused to see him anywhere.
“Yes, I dated him,” I told George. “Yes, I was sleeping with him. That day you saw him leaving my house, we had spent the night together, and whatever you think we did, we did it. Are you happy now? Why did you even marry me when you knew you couldn’t forget about the man in the black Mercedes?”
My husband went mute after I told him the truth. I expected questions. I expected name-calling. I expected shouting on top of his voice saying, “I knew it!” None of that happened. He walked slowly away without looking back.
While in bed, I expected him to speak about it. In the morning when he woke up, I expected him to speak about it. None of that happened either. Instead, he acted well. He talked to me respectfully. He acted like a man who had met angels on the road to Damascus. I was disturbed. My own conscience was killing me. I told him, “If you want a divorce, that’s also fine. I know that’s what you’re planning to do.”
He answered, “All I wanted to hear was the truth. Thank you for telling me.”
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Men Don’t Like It When Women Do The Paying
I’m still not fine. When I see him, my heart skips a beat. When he mentions my name, I hear this tingling sound in my head, as if I’ve been hit on the head. I want to take a break from the marriage, but I’m also scared I would come back and see him gone. It happened before marriage. I blamed him for pushing me that far. I hid the truth until it itched. If the truth sets free, then why am I not free after I’ve told him the truth?
Will this marriage ever work? Will he continue to act right until the end of time, or is he doing all that just to hit me back like a smooth criminal?