I met him when I went to submit a letter to an organization for sponsorship of our school program. He was the one who took me through the process and later took my number, saying that he would like to attend the program we were seeking sponsorship for. He didn’t attend the program, but he attended to me anytime I needed help. So we became friends.
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He was married. Though I liked him at first, I didn’t think anything romantic would come out of our friendship. He would call casually to ask me what he could do to make me happy for the day. Or he would ask me what problem he could solve for me that day. Nobody had ever asked me that question, and everything I asked for, he delivered. Each day brought us closer and closer until he started talking about how unhappy he was in his marriage.
On Friday nights, I would take him to places where there was fun. When it was time to go home, he would sulk and tell me he was returning to fire. Maybe out of pity, and because he was too kind, I thought of saving him from his bad marriage or giving him a space where he could escape for a while. Anytime he entered this space with me, the energy and chemistry were different.
This was how we started dating and seeing each other every day. Every Friday night, we would go to a pub to have fun, or he would take me to this place where they played live band music every Friday night. I didn’t like live band music. They played old songs, which I didn’t like, but because of him and how happy it made him, I also fell in love with live band music. On some Saturdays, we would take a trip out of Accra and return late in the evening.
He brought fun into my life when I was the one trying to save him. He could be with me all day and not receive a single call from home. He himself drew my attention to that and said if he was loved at home, calls would have come from there, especially when he had been out for too long. I didn’t think much of that because it gave me the opportunity to be with him, have fun, while he provided for me.
One weekend, I didn’t see him. He didn’t pick up my calls or answer my texts. I was worried, so I kept calling continually until later that night, when he texted that his wife had reported the issues in their marriage to his parents and pastors, so that weekend they had gathered to resolve them. I asked how it went. He told me, “Same old, same old. What new thing can you expect from the devil?”
But little by little, the tides changed, and I’m the one currently suffering because of that shift. One Friday night, he posted a photo of himself and his wife at a venue we had been to before and captioned it, “Thank God it’s Friday.” Every hour or so, he posted a new photo or video of himself having fun with the madam in places both of us had been to on several occasions. I texted, “Sir, what’s happening? Why am I not the one you’re with this Friday?”
He responded late Saturday morning, telling me the madam was bored, so when he said he was going out, she asked to follow him. “And you didn’t go anywhere apart from the place the two of us go?” I asked. He responded, “That was the only place that came to mind.”
I would see him during the week, especially after work, and not long after he had settled, a call would come from his wife, asking where he had reached. He would talk and laugh with her, and soon he would be gone. It didn’t use to be like that. Madam didn’t use to call. So what was happening? He assured me it was going to be a nine-day wonder, so I should relax. Months later, this man no longer looked my way. Everything was about his wife.
It breaks me to know I’ve been relegated, but I blamed myself for trusting a married man who was going through marital problems. These days, I ask for a little money, and he tells me a long story about how the madam has collected this sum of money and how he is left with nothing to spend. I was honest. I told him, “It looks like your wife has taken my place, which is fine, but I don’t know why you keep coming around. Now that all is well and you no longer return to hell, don’t you think it’s time to let me go?”
He said I was exaggerating and speaking from a place of jealousy. I accepted it with pride that I was jealous, so he should let me go. He said a lot of sweet nothings and still went ahead to show the madam off on his status and social media pages. Because I watched and talked about it, he excluded me from viewing his status. That was the last straw for me. I started avoiding him. I missed his calls. I didn’t respond to his texts. I told him I was better off alone than with him.
He came around begging, holding my leg and telling me I’d become his safe space, so if I left him, he would never be the same again. He begged me like I was the one he had married. That day, he stayed longer. The madam called, but he didn’t respond. I tried pushing him out, but he insisted on staying. I expected more after forgiving him, but that very weekend, when he had promised me money and an outing, he ghosted me until Monday morning. I blocked him.
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He’s always coming around after work, begging, but this time, it’s final. It was bound to happen, and it has happened. I like him. He’s been a lot to me. He made me love him until he allowed his madam to take my place. That’s fine, but why won’t he leave me in peace? Everything is fine between them. He’s happier than when I found him last year. He’s even growing fat while I’m growing lean from jealousy. Why won’t he let me be?
—Mary
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