Who is Cacktus Jack? Please read this before you continue.

His story reminded me so much of what I’d been through, so I connected with his story even before I decided to get his number. I felt we had something in common, though it was grief and disappointment. I felt we could bond over that and see where the wind of the bond we created would carry us.

So when I got his number and we started talking, it was all about our individual stories. I told him what I’d been through, and he also shared the gory details of the kind of relationships he had been through. I told him at first that I wanted friendship. I was coming from a place where falling in love was too risky a decision.

He understood me, and we started on that journey. There was not a single day we didn’t chat. He told me he wasn’t the call type, so most of our conversations happened over chat. I would wake up to his “good morning” and go to bed with his “goodnight.”

While we talked, I noticed a pattern of compassion and care in his tone. He was considerate and intentional about me, so although I talked about friendship right from the start, I was falling faster than Superman could rescue me.

I wasn’t in Accra then, but he was in Accra. I lived in Accra, but I’d gone to the Eastern Region for some project I was working on. Every weekend, however, I was in Accra. Anytime I came around and wanted to see him, our schedules didn’t align. It was either he had lectures or I had something else to do.

On his birthday, I bought him a gift and decided to give it to him no matter what happened. I came to Accra and asked him to meet me for the gift, but as it always happened, he didn’t have the time to come for the gift. I kept it with me until sometime in June before he agreed to meet me.

I came to Accra that weekend carrying his gift. I got there in the evening, and he asked me to come to his place. It was the first time we were going to meet, but we had spoken forever on the phone, exchanged photos, and had video calls to know how we both looked. So, although it was the first time seeing him, it felt like I’d known him forever.

I got to his place on a Friday night, and he asked me to sleep over, which I agreed to. I even thought I was going to spend the whole weekend with him. That night, passion ran over, and we had sex. In the morning, he asked me to leave because he had lectures to attend. I didn’t argue, though I would have wished to spend the whole weekend there.

He was going to UPSA, so he dropped me at a roundabout, and I continued my journey from there.

I have a very soft heart; too much sun and it begins to melt. Love is too much sunshine, so my heart started melting around him. He would ask for loans and not pay them back. The time he decided to pay what he owed me, he paid less than a quarter of it. I didn’t care. I’m someone who doesn’t like her man to ask before I give, so whenever I had, I gave to him willingly, and he took it with a smile. That’s all I wanted to see—to see my man happy.

But it wasn’t long before I started noticing behaviours that were too dangerous for a young love like ours. I thought he was either married or had a very serious girlfriend.

He would receive a call and go outside to answer it. Sometimes, I had to struggle before I could see him. I would tell him I wanted to visit, and he would tell me it wasn’t the right time or give me flimsy excuses.

One day, he told me one of his closest relatives had died. I sent my condolences and comforting words. For a long while, I thought the deceased wasn’t that close. One day, I came to Accra, and we were supposed to meet my aunt so I could introduce him to her. Again, he gave excuses. While talking, he said, “You know my dad is dead, and I’m the only one doing everything, so I can’t get the time to go with you.”

I was like, “Huh? The close relative you said was your dad?”

He told me this on a Wednesday. The funeral was that Friday. I wanted to go with him since it was his father who had died, but he said no. Another series of excuses just to put me away. My aunt was eager to meet him, but that meeting never happened.

Let me tell you one sad but funny thing that happened when he returned from the funeral. I wanted to give him money as nsabodie, but I knew his pride wouldn’t allow him to take it. So I asked him what kind of meals he wanted so I could prepare them for him. Again, the soft heart syndrome. I was thinking he had used all his money for the funeral and would find it hard to feed.

When I asked what kind of dishes he wanted, you should have heard the things this guy listed: kontomire stew with gizzard, beans stew with sausage, chicken stew, and some other soups. I made all these dishes. In the end, I spent more than I initially thought of giving him as nsabodie. He didn’t know my house, so I wanted to use that as an opportunity to bring him home. After cooking the dishes, I asked him to come over.

Today this excuse, tomorrow that excuse. He didn’t want to come. I told him, “The dishes are many; I can’t take a trotro with them, so why don’t you come over?”

Grudgingly, he came over. And that was the first and the last time he was at my place. I was very sick during that period, but he didn’t know. He didn’t care to know, but I cooked all the dishes through the sickness. When this guy came and one of the dishes wasn’t ready, come and see him. He was angry I hadn’t been able to make all the dishes I had promised to make him.

He waited until I was done and carried all the dishes away. He seemed to have enjoyed it, so he requested weeks later that I should come over so we could cook. He asked me to give him GHC1000, which I didn’t have. I offered to give him GHC500, but he got angry and didn’t take the money.

I’m a lover. Lovers are observers. I put all these behaviours together and felt, “No, something is wrong.” So one day, while sitting next to him, I observed him drawing the unlock pattern on his phone. Tadaa, my eyes captured it and stored it in my internal memory.

I went through his phone while he was in the bathroom. I saw a girl named Charity. I read their chat. The girl had cooked for him and was asking him to bring containers for the food. I couldn’t go any further until he came out of the bathroom. I didn’t ask him anything. The next time I had the chance to go through his phone, I was looking for the same chat to continue reading, but then I came across a name called Elizabeth.

I went through their chat. Everything showed he was dating Elizabeth, but just before I got to the sauce, he appeared and saw his phone in my hand. That day I asked about Charity and also asked about Elizabeth. He denied having anything to do with them. He said they were just friends and nothing else. This guy lied and said sweet things until I melted for him to chop me on top.

That guy can lie. It makes me wonder what kind of course he’s doing at UPSA. I can swear he’s doing a PhD in lies. Herh, K can lie!

But Elizabeth’s name never stopped ringing in my ears, so the next morning, when I was leaving and I told him, he gave me his phone to put on charge for him while he was busy sleeping. I went to the kitchen to put the phone on charge and took the chance to go through it.

Elizabeth is one of the ladies who took his number from Silent Beads. She lived in Kumasi, and from the messages I read, he had proposed to Elizabeth and was ranting about how he was worried when he called her and she didn’t pick up, and how he couldn’t wait to have her and all that. He had a name for Elizabeth: The Ring Owner.

While reading the messages, I broke down. I was crying as if I was slicing onions. I put the phone down and walked away. While in the trotro going home, I cried. Everyone was looking at me, but tears have no shame. They kept dropping until I alighted.

He didn’t call me until the next day, which angered me, so while talking, I said, “If it was Ring Owner, wouldn’t you have called her?”

This guy flared up and insulted me like I was some kid living with him. I can stand everything but not insults, and at that moment, I knew my stand in his life wasn’t safe, so I decided to move on. I sent him a breakup message and blocked him. That evening, he called with a different line. When I picked up, this guy broke into tears. I’ve never heard a man cry this loud. He was begging me not to leave him, saying he was from a broken home and that contributed to how he behaves and all that.

I foolishly unblocked him after that episode, and he invited me home to resolve the issues. He told me Lizzy was just a friend he found on another person’s status. He didn’t like her, but it was Elizabeth who was pushing herself on him.

I Gave Him A Toffee My Pastor’s Wife Gave Me To Say Yes To His Proposal

I knew they were lies, but I felt remorse in his voice, so I melted on my knees, and this guy chopped me on top. From that day, there was a little bit of distance between us. I was healing, and he said he was healing too.

One afternoon, I had a call. When I picked up, the voice said, “My name is Elizabeth, and I’m calling from Kumasi.”

Let’s continue at 4 pm.

— Mayflower

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