Irene and I didn’t start out madly in love, not even close, and to be honest, the whole thing only happened because a friend of mine played matchmaker and kept pushing until I finally gave in and asked her out.

I had just finished senior high school at the time. As we were writing our final papers, almost every conversation among the boys was about what they were going to do after leaving school. Some couldn’t wait to reunite with their girlfriends who attended other schools, some had jobs already lined up, but the topic that came up more than anything else was sex. They talked about all the sex they were finally going to have now that they were leaving the four walls of the school.

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I, on the other hand, had no plans at all. My only plan was to go home, thank my family for supporting me throughout the three years of school, find a job, and trust God to handle the rest. To my friends, that sounded boring.

Even before we completed school, whether we were in the dormitory, the classroom, or anywhere the boys gathered, the conversations almost always ended up being about sex. They discussed every little detail, how to satisfy a woman, how to make her beg for more, and how incredible the feeling was. Since I had never experienced it before, I couldn’t contribute anything to those conversations, and it didn’t take long for them to realize I was still inexperienced.

The way they described it made me curious. They called it the greatest feeling in the world and said it would take you to cloud nine. According to them, that was why some boys sneaked around having sex under staircases in school, while others jumped over walls just to spend a few minutes with their girlfriends.

It was those stories and all the excitement surrounding them that pushed me into dating Irene. I was 22 years old, and she became my first girlfriend and the first woman I had ever been with.

That night, I tried my best to remember everything my friends had told me, but I never got the amazing feeling they had described. I didn’t enjoy it one bit, which is why it still surprises me that she ended up getting pregnant. To this day, I still ask myself, how? How could I not enjoy it, and somehow it still happened and she got pregnant?

Not long after she became pregnant, we broke up. I had already decided I would take responsibility for my child, but I wanted nothing to do with Irene anymore because she was cheating too much, and I couldn’t keep up with it.

My parents, however, didn’t agree with me. My mother kept reminding me that Irene was carrying my child and that I should be more patient and accommodating. I still wasn’t interested in getting back together with her.

My son’s schooling has been on hold for a while now, and recently I reached out and asked her to bring the child to me so he continues schooling here with me. That morning, she came with his bags, I received him warmly, settled him in properly, and then left for work with a clear mind.

Only for me to return home and find a lady’s slippers lying right in front of my door, because Irene, after I had left for work, had quietly returned to my place with more of her belongings, saying that she cannot leave her son behind, that where he goes, she must also go, and that he is far too young to be left with only a father.

But I am his father, what possible wrong can I do to my own flesh and blood, and besides, my mother is ready and set to help me whenever and however I need it.

What exactly does she think I would do to my own son? Besides, my mother is always around and more than willing to help whenever I need her.

We argued about it because my place is not big enough for all of us, but somehow she has managed to stay. She is still here.

The truth is that Irene is very childish. She knows almost nothing about relationships and still behaves like a little girl instead of a grown woman.

What frustrates me the most now is the way she treats my mother, the same woman who defended her when we first broke up. I leave home early for work and return after long hours only to find the two of them either arguing, refusing to speak to each other, or walking around the house with long faces.

She refuses to cook, refuses to help with anything in the house, and does all of this simply because of my mother. To make matters worse, she has also refused to be intimate with me, and what hurts me the most is seeing the way she mistreats my sick mother.

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

I seriously need advice. I really cannot continue living like this anymore, and I am at the end of my rope. What should I do, because I seriously need advice.

— James

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