We were schoolmates. When I was in my third year, she was in her first year, but we became friends because we came from the same town. When I met her in school, I helped her settle in quickly and introduced her to a school mother who would take good care of her. Whenever we came home for vacation, she called me her school father, and even her parents came to know me as the guy who was guiding and looking out for their daughter.

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After senior high school and I left for the university, we lost touch. We both forgot about each other’s existence until we met on Facebook after over ten years. I was then in Germany pursuing my master’s degree. She had grown into a woman who caught my eye immediately. When we started talking on Facebook, even before we finally exchanged contacts, I told her I would come to Ghana and marry her, so she should leave her boyfriend if she had one.

Maybe she thought I was joking, but as time went on, I laid my relationship goals on the table, and she bought into them. We started dating while I was still in school. We talked every day—on video calls, through chats, and by whatever means possible. In a day, we could talk three times and spend the rest of the day chatting on WhatsApp.

We planned our wedding and all the fine details. I asked her to visit my parents and introduce herself to them as my girlfriend. I’d already told them about her, so when she went to see them, the reception was great, and she herself attested to it.

A year later, when I was coming to Ghana, I bought our wedding rings and also bought my suit and other little things we would need for our wedding. She was at the airport to welcome me home. The hug was so long we couldn’t let go. I could feel the softness of her skin for the first time after a year of dating digitally.

When we eventually settled into the hotel we’d booked, we couldn’t wait to get some action. We’d spent a year talking about it. It was time to act out what we’d been talking about.

During the kiss, she reached into my boxers and tried to touch what was down there. I could feel she was struggling to reach it because of how I’d positioned myself. I turned the right way to make it easier. The moment she touched it, she stopped, removed her hand, ended the kiss, and looked at me. When I looked back, she smiled a little, and I went in for the kiss again.

She didn’t go down there again until we were done. Right after, she went to the washroom and stayed there for a long while. When she returned, she lay down on the bed and started sleeping. Something was off. It felt like the magnetism had lost its potency. She didn’t talk. She didn’t respond to my touches anymore, and the next morning, when I tried for a second round, she avoided me.

“Maybe she’s tired,” I told myself.

We left the hotel the next day, and I traveled back home while she stayed in Accra. The plan was that she would travel down to my place over the weekend so I could introduce her again to my family officially. She would spend the weekend with me, and then we would take it from there.

She didn’t come over that weekend. She said something had come up, but she wasn’t able to talk about what it was. I asked if everything was okay, and she told me she was fine. We rescheduled our meeting for the next weekend, and yet again, she didn’t show up. She said she would rather wait for my visit because she was getting busy every weekend.

Apart from the fact that she wasn’t coming home to see my parents for the introduction, her calls to my phone also stopped. If I texted her, she wouldn’t respond until much later, saying work had been hectic and giving other excuses I couldn’t make head or tail of.

When I was coming from Germany, I bought some things for her parents. I wanted her to come over so the two of us could go and see her parents after seeing mine, and then I would deliver the gifts to them. Because she wasn’t coming, I went to see her parents alone and delivered the gifts to them. They were so happy to see me and commented on how I’d grown from the boy they knew into the kind of man standing before them.

They called her and told her I was there. When they gave me the phone to talk to her, she asked, “Why did you go to see them without telling me?”

I whispered, “I texted you that I was going. You didn’t read it?”

I was tired of pretending everything was alright, so I traveled back to Accra to see her. I asked her, “What is going on? I deserve to know the truth rather than this hide-and-seek you’re playing with me.”

She stood calmly with a little smile at the corner of her lips and told me, “There’s nothing wrong. Yes, we’ve dated for a year, but we just met. Don’t you think we should take things slowly?”

I screamed, “Damn it! What do you mean by taking things slowly? Weren’t you the same person who was happy about me buying our wedding rings? I showed you the suit I wanted to wear, and you chose it for me. Where was taking it slowly when we were doing all that?”

I knew where the problem started. It started the very day we had sex. Something didn’t work. Something broke along the way, but she wasn’t vocal about it, so I thought she would get over it as the days went by. That day, I asked her what made her pull away during the intimacy. She said she hadn’t pulled away.

It’s always difficult to deal with partners who don’t want to be honest. I asked her to tell me the truth. I asked if it was about something she saw. I asked her to be honest about everything so we could address it.

She said she was okay with everything, but it had just dawned on her that we were going to get married, and the weight of that decision made her uneasy.

I was in Accra for a whole week. She wouldn’t let me touch her or even get close to her. I tried kissing her, and she pulled away as if my lips were a poisoned chalice. Out of frustration, I said, “I’m a man in a hurry to settle down. If you’re not ready, I can always find someone else to do life with.”

“Fine,” she responded. “I don’t want to waste your time, so go ahead and find someone else.”

I was shattered, especially because she wouldn’t tell me what the problem was. “Everything was fine until that moment. What came over you?”

The phone she was using, I had bought for her. I told her I wanted my phone back. She was trying to reset the phone and give it back to me when I snatched it from her hands. In my mind, I thought she had another man who was making her confused. I left with the phone, stood in a corner, and read every message I could.

She had sent a guy called Joojo a message about me. She wrote, “I really loved him, but dear, his thing is too small. We did it, and I didn’t feel anything. It’s that bad.”

The guy told her to give me a chance and see if she could find other things to love instead of that one thing she hated. She replied, “This is everything. I can’t. Forever? That will be a punishment.”

I closed the phone, walked back to her door, left the phone at her doorstep, and walked away.

Who Would You Choose, A Rich Man Or A Man Who’s Good In Bed?

All I wanted was to know the reason she had gone cold. Once I found it and realized I couldn’t do anything about it, I was at peace. She called several times, but I didn’t respond. Then she sent a message thanking me for everything and wishing me well. I replied, “Thank you.”

A small gbola is not a chronic disease. She didn’t like it, so I took it elsewhere, looking for someone who would appreciate it—and so far, so good.

—Peter  

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