The last time a man broke my heart was a difficult time for me. I was sure I would remain in that place of pain for eternity. Hurt is like that. It robs the future of joy and the present of hope. I don’t even remember when I started to feel lighter. All I know is that I woke up one day feeling all was not lost in life just because I lost a man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.

While I was piecing myself back together, I swore off love. “Even if I decide to give another man a chance, I will not take him seriously. In fact, I won’t take relationships seriously going forward,” I was determined.

When I felt ready to date again, I put myself out there. Men came my way. They showed me their hearts, but I wasn’t interested. The memory of the heartbreak I experienced was seared in my heart. Nothing a man said about love moved me. I would listen to them with a sweet smile on my face, but the entire time I would be thinking, “Me, Adwoa, I should believe your lies and give you my heart so that you break it for me? Apuu!”

I warded off men until I decided I wouldn’t. And when I ventured into relationships again, it was with three men at the same time. They are all good men. Any one of them should be perfect for me. Nonetheless, I have come to believe that men are unreliable. So I don’t trust any of them completely. That’s why I decided to date them together for security reasons.

I am in my early thirties and a career woman. I earn a handsome salary, yet my men treated me well. They showered me with money and expensive gifts. Because of this, I don’t go easy on my appearance. I’m always looking good. And I walk around with this confidence, you’d think I rule the world.

I am my mother’s only daughter. Because of this, she and my dad have been pressuring me to get married. Considering my age and her growing disappointment, I decided I would settle down. This is why I let two of the men go. I chose one of the men and began getting serious with him.

We were putting plans for marriage in place until I got pregnant. “It’s good news,” he said, “we are getting married anyway, so double blessings.”

“I can’t have a baby out of wedlock. I won’t be able to bear the shame. Can we fast-track the marriage process so that by the time the baby arrives, we would be married?”

The plan was for us to tie the knot in December, but he agreed to do it early for the pregnancy’s sake. We didn’t tell my parents about the new development. We just told them we were too in love to wait till the end of the year. We almost got away with it, but my dad caught us. I don’t know how, but he found out what we were hiding.

He was upset, not because I am expecting. He said he wasn’t happy that I tried to deceive the whole family by pretending I wasn’t pregnant.

One dawn, he sat me down and told me that it’s not right to get married in my situation. He advised me to wait and have the baby first. He assured me, “Even if you give birth and your man doesn’t marry you, I will support you to marry whichever man you choose.”

That should be good news, but brothers and sisters, I am deeply ashamed to face society. I feel too shy to even walk into my office, let alone slay like I used to. People have started staring at me, as if they know I am hiding something. It makes my heart race. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of the shame waiting for me when I start showing.

Maybe if I hadn’t taken too long to date again, I would’ve been married by now and wouldn’t be battling with this shame.

Should I just wear a ring and pretend I’m married? Or should I take leave from work and hide from society until after delivery? Help me figure something out.