I had two kids at 19, with two different men, and it was clear they never loved me. They just pretended from the beginning. But it wasn’t only them. There was my father, who treated me like his slave. No love, just too much strictness. The memory of my childhood brings tears to my eyes. And my elder brother, he walked in my father’s footsteps and bullied me all the time. There was no quiet time with him around. We lived in a family house, and for whatever weird reason, it felt like no one liked me. My only comfort was my mum.

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I was brilliant and always first in class. I thought, if for nothing else, they should be happy I was smart and not a rebellious child. But I guess being a good girl doesn’t pay. I accepted my fate early on and moved on with it, believing this was just how God created me.

And my baby daddies? Hmm. It was just sex and then pregnancy. Life was very hard. I dated a lot of guys just to feed myself, and when I got pregnant, they wanted me to keep it.

One day, only God knows why, I met a man who changed my life. I met Mr. A. I knew he was a married man, and I did not care. All I needed was money for my children, to feed them. After all, I needed to survive. We dated for a while. He got me a job, a very good one. All thanks to him, I now own three storey buildings, drive my own car, supported my siblings’ education, and built a 4-bedroom house for my parents. Life with Mr. A was good those past 10 years. Even when Mr. A moved his family to the US about 8 years ago, he still came around. So this was our arrangement. He spends 8 months in the US and 4 months here in Ghana, checking on his businesses and spending time with me. That is our arrangement.

With Mr. A, I understood my position. I knew where I stood. I was okay with that acceptance and the opportunity he gave me. For me, it was fine. Then, about four years into the relationship, he rejected that idea. He said he was keen on making me his second wife, that he was working on it. I do not know how, but he said to trust him. It was me he wanted. And I accepted the proposal. It felt like the right thing, and I accepted to marry him as gratitude for all he had done for me. But each year when he came to Ghana, he would postpone it to the following year. He kept postponing it every time.

Then I met Dave. Oh, Dave was my dream man. I loved him. He was the kind of man I dreamt about, prayed to God about. Dave showed me love. I felt a kind of love I had yearned for all my life. He was handsome and intentional, and the man was good in the bedroom. I could go four to five times with him. Yes, Dave was that guy. We were inseparable.

When I met him, Dave was going through a bitter divorce. His story is a very sad one. He had sponsored his wife to Canada. The wife had an affair and got pregnant. Not only that, she convinced Dave to send money to export cars for him to sell here in Ghana. He went for loans and sent her the money. The cars never came, and what came was a notice for divorce.

Then his mum died two months after we met. He went through tough times to pay for the funeral. I saw him suffer and struggle, and I was a woman in love. I wanted to ease his burden as much as he eased my burden, so I bought him a car to help him. His car was one of the many things he had sold to pay for his mother’s funeral.

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At the funeral, his sisters and dad were all over me, thanking me for my help. He made me stay and watch when his ex and his family met to discuss the divorce. We were about to plan on getting married as soon as possible.

And then Mr. A came back to Ghana. When I told him I had moved on, he didn’t budge. He didn’t accept it. He fought me for it. He complained to my parents and to everyone I respected that he was ready to marry me. But I didn’t want it. I had moved on. He had 10 years with me and he did not marry me, so he should move on. He refused. He comes to my house and cries like a baby, kneeling down to beg me. Once, he came, stood at my window while Dave and I were doing adult things. This man had the audacity to record it, sent the sounds to me, and was crying bitterly. You would think that would send him out of my life, but yet he will not leave me alone.

At that point, I was so much involved with Dave and I knew there was no turning back at all. Mr A promised me all the soft life a girl dreams about, but I refused. He gifted me a Rav4, but I refused because of Dave.

Dave and I were planning our marriage when, one Friday, I got a call. It was from a certain so-called pastor. It started as a wrong number. This pastor started prophesying that two men are in my life and if I do not take care, I will lose both of them. My instincts just told me it was Dave who gave him my number. I decided to play along to see how far they could go. I kept in touch with the pastor and brought Dave along. This fake pastor was able to describe Dave, the job he does, and everything about Mr. A. The pastor told me to help Dave get on his feet, that he loves me so much. Before the supposed call from a stranger turned pastor, Dave had asked me to support his business with some money, and I refused, so he had to get a fake pastor to convince me to help him.

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I am broken now. I never believed Dave could ever go this far. I cross-checked everything he has ever told me, and they were all true, including what led to his divorce. I trusted him wholeheartedly, and now this? Can such a person be trusted? We have bought a lot of items for the marriage ceremony. I am returning all to him tomorrow and telling him all I know about the fake pastor. I love him dearly, but I do not think this is forgivable.

Mr. A says he is always there and ready for me should I change my mind. I do not know whether to go back to Mr. A or find another man to love.

—Linda

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