When I lost my job, I lost my manhood. Literally. I didn’t have desire for food, for life or for my wife. I found myself thinking about how I was going to cope with life now that my livelihood was gone. We had two children. I pondered on how I was going to pay fees or buy their favorite snack. To be a man in a period like this isn’t easy but I tried my best not to lose it all.

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My wife also tried her best for me. I mean she sprang to life once life was taken from me. She supported to keep the house going. When she found an opportunity that fit my qualifications, she drew my attention to it. She was doing her best to keep the sinking ship afloat but that was also the point I lost the urge for intimacy.

My wife wasn’t the kind to initiate sex and if I didn’t, we could go weeks without doing it. That worked until it didn’t work again. “Why do I have to force you for intimacy too? What’s wrong with you? Or with me? Or with us?”

There was nothing wrong but I didn’t have the urge to do anything. My ‘pin’ wouldn’t rise to the occasion it once rose for. My wife tried, touched sacred places and kissed dead bones to see if they’ll rise again but usually, nothing happened. “Take yourself, if you won’t do it,” she snapped. I was left alone to figure out how to come out from that doldrum.

I had a small job after two years of being in the house. It’s not as big as the one I lost but the salary could go a long way to keep my life in a better place. We should have been happy but too much was left unchecked until it brought our marriage to a point we find ourselves now.

My wife is sleeping with a young doctor at the hospital she works. She’s older than the young doctor but it looks like a joke the two of them tell and laugh. I read their messages. It was steamy. My wife couldn’t wait to go to work at night so they could meet. The young doctor said he was always ready. In a night when they should be healing the sick and stitching wounds, they healed their own passion and stitched into each other.

I wasn’t surprised that was happening but the shock waves it sent through my being was enough to have me paralyzed. “Is that how our marriage has been reduced to?” I asked while showing her the messages on her phone. She shivered. She wilted into an apology and asked me to forgive for she had sinned. She said it was over between them and wouldn’t happen again. She also said the doctor was no longer in the hospital. He was there for a program and that program was over.

When everything calmed down and we sought to talk through the problem, she told me, “You’ve stopped doing it with me so it’s not all together my fault.”

I was angry and hurt but she was a good wife so I forgave and decided to work on myself. I didn’t even want our kids to pick up a hint that all was not well between us so we acted well and calm around them while we carried the wounds of the hurt in secrecy.

She lied. The doctor wasn’t gone. I found out months later that she was waxing strong in love with him. It just occurred to me to be inquisitive so one late night around 12am, I went to the hospital to look for her. The nurse I spoke to didn’t know who I was and was wondering why I was looking for her specifically. She went around the wards looking for her. She told me, “I learned she’s out so you can call her.”

I didn’t call until later a car stopped in front of the hospital and I saw my wife stepping out of the car. She quickly dashed into the hospital, trying to not draw attention to herself. I called her and she stopped. The driver took his time. They had planned for her to go first so later, he would follow to create the illusion that they were not together.

While I was asking her where she was coming from and she was lying to me, the driver stepped out and it was the same young doctor she said had left the hospital. “I’ve been here for the past hour. Where did you go with him?”

The young doctor got closer and I asked him the same question I asked my wife. “Where are you coming from with my wife?”

While he lied that they went to get food, he had fear written all over his body. My wife thought I was going to attack him so she was imploring me not to do anything that would turn into a police case. The doctor wasn’t my problem. I was even embarrassed to let him know that I knew he was having an affair with my wife. I let him go while I also walked away, telling myself the marriage was over.

I called her father that very moment just to disturb his sleep. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I had to spread the insomnia. I narrated the whole story to him. “I’m coming from the hospital as I speak. She disappeared with the young doctor and returned not long ago. You can call and verify.”

He pleaded with me to be patient until the morning. In the morning, I left for work wearing my broken heart over my shirt. I’d never been this vulnerable. Her dad called. Her mom called, pleading with me to be patient and not lay my hands on her. I told them, “No I won’t do that. I’m in control of my emotions. It’s the marriage that I don’t want.”

Three Months After Our Breakup, He Got Married

She didn’t say a word about the affair when we met in the evening. She left for work later while I stayed, thinking of my next move. I’m still here because of the kids and also because I don’t have money to rent a new place. I share a room with the kids. We don’t say anything to each other, not even greetings. We’ve divided the house into two, imaginary. She belongs to the south of the house and I north. We don’t cross paths. We try not to breathe the air around each other. When I’m in the hall, she stays away. When I’m in the kitchen, I own the space until I leave. We’ve lived this way for a quarter of a year. It will continue until I leave or she leaves.

—Jackson

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