We dated for six months before things became physical. We talked about protection and she said she didn’t like any other protection than withdrawal. “I trust you enough.” I shrugged and said, “Bet.”

I blinked one day and she was handing me a pregnancy test result. I was confused. From where to where, and how? I was not ready to be a father. I had saved money for a specific career goal. We argued constantly about the pregnancy. She insisted, “I can handle the responsibilities until you are back on your feet.” I did not agree. I did not believe her. But I caved.

Her parents wanted me to marry her. I could not. Finances were tight, so I suggested I perform a knocking rite and complete the rest after she gave birth. They refused. I tried to explain, but they stood firm. “If you knew you did not have the resources, why were you doing what married people do?” Nothing I said changed their minds. I went home that day even more frustrated than when I left.

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Eventually we reached a middle ground. I could perform the engagement and finish the rest later, but there was a catch. I had to do it before I left for my assignment. While we were out gathering items for the ceremony, she lost the pregnancy. Everything stopped. We stood in the middle of our lives, confused and grieving, yet felt forced to continue. We held the engagement ceremony and that was it. She tried to pressure me into a private blessing to seal the union. I refused.

Living together was the wake-up call. Once we finally lived together, I realized the woman I thought I knew was a stranger. Aside from my financial struggles, I saw traits in her that would have made me think twice about marrying her if she had stayed with me even two days while we were dating. I am certain I would have fished her out.

We had two miscarriages in our short time together. It troubled me. I wanted answers from a doctor to see if something was wrong with us. One day I randomly brought it up in conversation.

She said casually, like it meant nothing, like it was a game. “I was never pregnant the first time. I only wanted to see if you would be loyal to me, and you were, so I went along with it.” I sat there in silence, realizing I had been lured into this life. By the time she confessed, she was already pregnant with our first actual child. So I let it pass.

You reap what you sow. I felt I deserved it at one point. If I had kept things responsible until I was sure, I would not have found myself in this place. I accepted my reality and started showing up as a husband. She was a lot to handle. Every day she was in a mood. When I complained, her parents said it was probably the pregnancy hormones and it would all be over after she gave birth. I hoped for the best.

Even after she gave birth, nothing changed. I tried several times to set her up in a hairstyling business. It failed because she would open the shop late, go home and sleep. She lost her customers to other stylists in the area and did not give a hoot. I provide for every need in the house alone. I hoped she would be a helping hand, but even when she makes a little money, she pretends the shop is empty so she does not have to contribute. I have taught  her about keeping customers or learning new styles, but she does not see the point.

The hair business is dwindling. She says, “The wig industry has taken over the hair braiding business and I do not like it anymore.” I have asked her what else she would like to do, but she has nothing to say. When I suggest ideas, she gives a hollow response and does nothing. I know you cannot force interest or the business will collapse, but she makes no effort at all.

We have two children now. I am at my breaking point. She has no spark, no drive, and her apathy is choking my own dreams. I have money sitting there, ready to invest in her if she would just show an ounce of interest, but she is saying nothing

What Nobody Tells You About Divorce

Because of my job, we live apart right now. It is the only time I breathe. I want to walk away. At times, I feel like calling the marriage off and resettling with someone who will understand me and start over, but on the other hand, I don’t know how things will go with the kids when we separate. I am totally confused now. My happiness is a memory. There is no love left, only a sense of duty that feels like a prison. She has refused counselling. She has not made up her mind to change. I do not where to go from here

—Mawuli

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