After the birth of our second child, my husband fell sick. It was really bad. I feared we were going to lose him until we went to the hospital. The doctors stabilized him, ran some tests, and then discussed their diagnosis with me. “Your husband has depression and high blood pressure,” they declared. They assured us that he would be fine as long as he took his medications regularly. He was given a diet plan to manage the pressure.

With time, he got better as the doctors assured us. I was ready for us to resume our marriage until I found out something was off about him. This man used to pounce on me at the slightest chance he got. That’s how passionate our love life was. We were always all over each other. All of that disappeared after his recovery. He started acting as if I wasn’t an attractive woman living with him. I would undress before him but he wouldn’t be moved.

It was painful for me to admit that my husband was losing interest in me sexually but that was the case. I reported the change to our doctors and they said, “It’s a side effect of his medications. It happens sometimes but don’t let it get to you. Eventually, he will return to the way he was.” They are the experts so I trusted them.

I was filled with hope that things would get better but they only got worse. No matter how understanding I wanted to be, I am also a woman with needs. The sexual starvation got to me. I was doing my best to wait but how long could I wait? When it became too unbearable for me I had a conversation with my husband about my frustrations. With nonchalance, he said, “If you want it that bad then make the move. I will do my best to meet you halfway.” It was something. Something that gave me hope.

The first time I initiated intimacy, he rose to the occasion as promised. I was so happy until I wasn’t. The man who used to pound me into satisfaction now could not last beyond one minute. I know some men finish fast during the first round, but when you get them going again they take you home during the second round. Unfortunately, my husband’s situation is nothing like that. The moment he is done with those few seconds of performance, there’s no rematch. He just gets up and goes about his business or nods off to sleep.

It’s been like this with him for the past nine years. I suffered a lot when it all began. I tried to make lemonade out of the lemons life dealt me. I told my husband that there are several ways to satisfy a woman that does not involve penile penetration. “You can use your tongue to get me there,” I suggested. He listened but refused to do it.

I ended up developing an addiction to adult films as a result. I didn’t watch the ones with men doing it with women. I preferred the ones with women doing it with each other. I would watch a woman go down on another woman and imagine I was the one at the receiving end of that pleasure. It was a harmless thing at first. All I wanted to do was live vicariously through women who were getting their needs met. Little did I know that I would soon graduate to wanting to participate in those acts.

I thought about it often. I imagined how it would feel to experience the touch of a woman. I got pleasure from these thoughts. If I knew any women who were into this kind of thing, I am sure I would have given myself to them. I didn’t so it all remained a fantasy that haunted me.

To rid myself of my perverse desires, I spoke to a female doctor. I explained my struggles with intimacy in my marriage and the ways I tried to soothe my aches. She said no good would come out of me switching teams when it came to sexuality. We started some counseling sessions to help me overcome my addiction. It helped so we kept going.

As we continued to talk, we got closer and closer. Sometimes she would invite me to social events. Other times we would hang out as friends, just the two of us. I found her friendship comforting. It helped me to clear my head whenever I felt overwhelmed.

One time she invited me to a house party. It was a birthday party for a gentleman in her circle. As always, I showed up. Later at the party, she introduced me to the guy. We had a brief chat but that little moment felt like eternity. He is easy on the eyes, a great conversationalist, and I felt a spark with him. He felt it too. If not, he wouldn’t have invited me to chill with him the weekend after our meeting. We went on to spend the next few weekends hanging out and getting acquainted.

One day I was talking to the doctor when she asked me, “How are things going with Paul?”

I shrugged and answered, “He is a nice guy and we enjoy each other’s company.”

“He told me he likes you.”

“Aww, that’s nice. I like him too.”

“Do you understand what I mean? He said wants to have you. And let me tell you, his head game is good.”

She didn’t say anything more. She didn’t have to. We are not children. I understood what she meant. And out of curiosity, I decided to give him a try. After years of starvation with my husband, my experience with Paul felt like the first rain after eight years of drought. It was orgasmic, literally. Although I was judging myself the entire time we were doing it, the one thought that kept running through my mind was, “Damn, this guy is good!”

I had purposed in my mind that it was going to be a one-time thing, but I kept going back for more. Each time I would tell myself, “This is the last time. I won’t do it again.” It’s been one year now and we are still going at it.

When we started, it was all about getting my satisfaction from him but now things have changed. We’ve fallen in love. If you see me with him, you would think he is my husband. Meanwhile, I am in a fourteen-year-old marriage.

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I think I got so caught up in my happiness that I forgot to cover my tracks. I am saying this because my first child recently told me that my husband knows about what I’m doing. I didn’t believe him until he asked, “Isn’t his name Paul? He knows him. He says he hasn’t said anything to you because he knows he can’t do anything about it. But he doesn’t mind giving you a divorce if that’s what will make you happy.”

I don’t know which one is worse: hearing that my husband knows about my affair but has been acting perfectly normal and fulfilling his duties as a husband, or hearing the news from my child?

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If shame could kill, mine would have rendered me a corpse long ago. I can’t look my husband in the eyes anymore even though he still hasn’t confronted me. I feel so stupid for doing this to my family. Accepting the divorce seems like a reasonable way out but I don’t want my kids to stay away from their father.

I am already aware that people will judge and insult me but that’s fine with me. I know there are women here who have walked in my shoes and will understand what led me here. I am counting on understanding souls like them to see past my shortcomings and counsel me. Should I let my husband know that I know he knows about the affair? What is the best way to handle a delicate situation like this?

— Mrs. Blankson

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