I know his smell. Even if I am in a coma and that man stands by my bedside, the unmistakable mix of alcohol, smoke, and sweat will tell me it’s him. I have been smelling him on my girlfriend for four years now. She told me Francis was just an ex-boyfriend when we first met.

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She assured me there was no man in her life. At that time, I was hustling to save money for school. I knew I didn’t have anything to offer her apart from my beating heart. She told me it was more than enough for her. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need a man to do that for me. I just want someone who will love me truly,” she said.

I gave the relationship everything I had: my time, energy, and my heart. She gave me her best too. I was sure of it. I was doing a small business, but she didn’t trouble me with money. She understood that  I was saving money for school. She even pitched in with her token when I was starting school. And she has been supportive throughout my educational journey thus far.

I appreciate everything she has done for me to this point. It’s one of the reasons I am determined to marry her. I don’t want to be one of those men who benefit from a woman’s help only to leave her for someone else.

Though she is not perfect, I have stuck with her for four years now. Some of the things I overlooked even surprise me to this day. I am very particular about keeping my surroundings neat and organised. She is the exact opposite. Her room was always messy during the early stages. She didn’t even know how to take good care of herself. The same attitude was reflected in the way she managed her business.

I asked her a lot of questions about her upbringing when I saw this. From everything she said, I gathered that she did not receive a lot of guidance from her mother about these things when she was growing up. It was a red flag for me, but when has love ever been a respecter of red flags? I stayed and chose to help her do better.

She is not a difficult person. She readily learned everything I taught her and applied it to her life. The results were good.

I thought her poor hygiene and poor organisational skills were going to be my only problem in the relationship. Little did I know that her ex-boyfriend was still in the picture. I noticed it when he started visiting her. This guy drinks heavily and smokes as if he has an extra pair of lungs. This lifestyle of his announces itself everywhere he goes because of the way he looks and smells.

The first time I perceived the smell in her room I asked her, “Have you been drinking and smoking in here?” She said no. I then asked if she had someone over who drank and smoked, and she said no too.

One day, it wasn’t just a smell. I found cigarette butts in there. I asked her where it came from but she couldn’t tell me anything reasonable. After that day, I kept seeing cigarette butts when I visited her. Still, she couldn’t tell me whom they belonged to. At some point, I stopped asking about it, just to keep the peace.

One weekend I was with her when she excused herself to do her laundry. She took longer than usual to finish. I went out to see if she needed help. There, I found my girlfriend washing another man’s clothes.

“Whose clothes are those?”

Elsie stared at me blankly in response. I couldn’t contain my anger. The plan was to spend the weekend with her but I left that night.

She apologized for days and promised it would never happen again. I thought about all the ways she was supporting me and forgave her.

In our third year together, she stepped out one evening to go to the shop. After an hour without her return, I went out to look for her. I found her with her ex-boyfriend. The one whose smell dominated our relationship. They walked past me as if I was a stranger to them.

I watched in disbelief as they sat in an alley and started chatting. I walked over to them, only for the guy to pull a knife on me. I had to defend myself. I didn’t spare the guy at all. All the torment he caused me in that relationship, he felt it in my punches.

Five months after that incident, her aunt called me. She asked if we could meet and that it was urgent. I said, “Can we discuss everything over the phone?”

She said, “Elsie is pregnant. She said it’s yours.”

and the child was mine. She found out about the pregnancy after I walked out of her life that fateful night. I was shocked, “The pregnancy is five months old and you are now telling me?”

“You blocked her after that night so she was scared to reach out.”

There was a lot of back-and-forth until I finally accepted responsibility. I was not entirely convinced the child was mine but I told myself we could have a DNA test after the child was born.

After the baby was born, she and her aunt came to apologize again. They asked for one last chance. I agreed but I said time would tell if she had truly changed.

As time passed, I tried to rebuild our relationship, but the love and trust were no longer there. I couldn’t feel a connection with the child either. It felt like he was a stranger to me. He didn’t resemble me at all, physically or otherwise.

Months passed. Then one day, I visited them and saw a strange bag in her room. I opened it and found a man’s belongings. When I asked Elsie, she lied that it was her brother’s. But I recognized the familiar scent of her ex-boyfriend on those clothes.

I confronted her and she confessed that her ex had been evicted and asked to keep his things with her temporarily. I questioned her, “Is this the only bag he had in that room? Where is the rest of his stuff? Why are you still entertaining this guy after everything?”

I left in anger and returned a week later to find the bag gone.

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One morning, while we were talking, someone barged into the room without knocking. It was her ex again. He froze when he saw me, and she quickly followed him outside. They spoke for over 30 minutes. When she returned, she didn’t explain anything. She just smiled and sat down.

That day I had a lot to think about. Since childbirth, she always claimed to be on her period whenever I tried to be intimate. Every time.

I Was The Man In The Relationship And He Didn’t Like It

Now, I don’t feel anything for her anymore. I barely talk to her. I only stay in touch because of the child, who is very fond of me. But deep down, something still doesn’t sit right. I can’t shake the feeling that the child isn’t mine.

I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do.

—Adotey

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