When I needed help to be able to go to school, Jonathan came along. We were in church together and saw each other every day. He said he didn’t know I was going through a lot. I said I didn’t know he would be able to help me. He paid my fees and gave me pocket money. While I was in school, he came to visit with food and also money.

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My mom said, “You have to marry him after school. No man will be able to do this for a woman he has no interest in.” My dad said it differently: “It takes a good man to do this. Don’t let him suffer in vain.”

While they went on and on about why I should marry him, he hadn’t proposed. I wanted him to because that was the only way it would make sense. I gave him signals. I gave him clues. The proposal never came. My first year at the university passed me by slowly. He gave me money. He ensured I was safe. He did everything good for me, but the proposal never came.

On vacation, I helped with his business. He left the whole work in my hands while he traveled around. When he returned, I’d prepared an account of everything sold and bought. He was so impressed, he said he was going to employ me to help his business. The letter didn’t come, but I was assistant director, according to him. He sought my opinion on business decisions. While in school, he would call and ask me what to do about a business idea.

I was in my second year when he proposed to me. The way he did it felt so raw, I wondered what kind of man he was romantically. The proposal came without romance or butterflies in my stomach. On the phone, while talking, he said, “Are you my girlfriend, or are we just friends?” I asked him to clarify before he said he’d been meaning to propose, but he didn’t want it to seem like he was proposing because of the help he was giving me.

I accepted the proposal, however it came, and the next day he came to campus for us to celebrate. He said he would like us to marry right after school. I told him I would like to find my feet before marriage. That was our first disagreement. He said I could use his feet to walk until I found mine. I told him walking on borrowed feet wasn’t my thing. Even when mine couldn’t run, I would rather crawl with them until they were firm on the ground.

I came home on vacation and heard rumors of another woman in his life. She was Jemima. I knew her very well. She was also in the same church with us. After church, Jemima would throw herself at him as if she was marking her territory. I didn’t react. Jonathan always found himself back in my space. He told me not to mind Jemima because she was only being playful.

I watched while Jemima adored my boyfriend and poured all the love she had on him, even when I was there. I asked him what was going on. I asked him to be honest because what I was seeing wasn’t about someone who was playing around. “She likes you, and it shows.”

He still insisted they were friends and told me not to be bothered. I think, along the line, he warned Jemima to stay away when I was around. It was hard for her. I could see she was dying to do something, but she had to hold herself back. She channeled all that energy she couldn’t use in my presence into hating me. I heard she told people that I was poor and Jonathan was only helping me, but I was the one pushing myself on him. I wasn’t pained or hurt or anything. There was some truth in what she said.

I told Jonathan, “Jemima loves you. Have you noticed that?” He brushed me aside. “Or you love her too and are lying to me?” I asked. He still brushed the issue aside and asked me to stop teasing him. I was serious. I wanted to bring a conversation to the table about him and Jemima, but he didn’t take me seriously.

I was in school when a friend called. She said, “Are you very sure Jonathan and Jemima don’t have something going on? Don’t be naive. Everyone knows there’s something going on.”

She wasn’t the only one who called to tell me that. Even my own cousins who were in the same church called to tell me about it. “When you’re not here, it’s different. If you don’t react, by the time you realize it, they are getting married.”

I should have been scared hearing all these rumors. It should have hurt me that the man I loved was out there displaying another woman in my absence, but guess what—it never affected me in any way. Not because I trusted Jonathan, but because I wasn’t really sure how I felt about him. I believed Jemima was doing a better job of loving him than I was.

One night, when I couldn’t sleep, I used the sleepless night to think about the whole thing—me, Jonathan, and the Jemima triangle. I asked myself the hard questions: whether I would have loved Jonathan if he wasn’t the one supporting me, whether I would have said yes to his proposal if my parents were not in support. I assessed my feelings and rated how much I loved Jonathan romantically. The answer was zero.

Third year, second semester, when I was leaving him for school, I felt this strong urge to tell him about my feelings. In his room, after a long round of intimacy that I didn’t feel anything from, I asked him, “Do you truly love me? I mean, are you very sure, in the depth of your soul, that you love me and I’m the one you want to spend your life with?”

He asked why I was asking that question. He answered, “You think I would do all that for you if I didn’t love you?”

“That’s where the problem lies,” I said. “I think I love you just because you’re doing all these things for me. I can marry you tomorrow and live the rest of my life with you. If you truly love me, you’ll be happy, but I don’t think I will be happy.”

He sat next to me and remained calm for a while before asking me to explain what I had just said. I was honest. I didn’t hide anything. I wore my emotions on my sleeve and let it all out. He thanked me for being honest, and I thanked him for everything he’d done for me. “Even if you decide to stop at this point, I won’t blame you. You’ve already been a great person in my life.”

We didn’t talk much for over a week. It was just hello and how are you. He would ask if I needed something. I would tell him I was okay. He didn’t stop helping me, but our conversations afterward were very honest and brutal. Sometimes he even insulted me, and we laughed about it. The heavy burden became a joke. One day, I told him to look at Jemima very well because she was genuine. I wasn’t teasing him, but he took it as a tease.

I was doing my national service when he sent me an invitation to his wedding. The name on it was Jemima. I knew it—I had known it since it became official that they were dating. I congratulated him and wished him all the happiness. My parents’ hearts were broken, and they even insulted me for letting a good man go. I was at the wedding. Some people even thought my heart was broken and I was pretending to be strong. I watched them wed, hugged them, and left.

Five years later, nothing else matters. I found a man where I did my national service, and this man married me right after my national service. We were less than a year in love, but he couldn’t wait, and I couldn’t wait too. All the stories I told Jonathan about finding my feet were all excuses I gave myself. I married when I didn’t have a job.

It’s Not God’s Law For A Man To Apologize To A Woman

I have a son. Jonathan and Jemima also have two kids. I’ve never stopped giving him his flowers and respect. He’s a happy man from all indications. I’m also a happy woman. If I had forced myself to marry him, both of us would have been unhappy people. But when we let go and embraced the truth, we both ended up happy in the arms of different people.

—Wendy 

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