I had all the details of the person I was going to get married to in mind when I was a teenager. I had this little book I wrote the list in. “He should be tall and handsome. He should have his own car and live in his own house. He should be romantic and compliment me often. He should care enough to call and check up on me when I’m away. He should call me sweetheart and on my birthday he should bring me cake and roses and tell me that I’m beautiful.”
All those crazy stuff we see in telenovelas and on TV. I had boyfriends who were tall and handsome but had no money. Kweku had a car but he struggled to buy fuel. At some point, I was the one fuelling it when we went out. There was this one guy too who till date calls me on my birthday to wish me a happy birthday. And there was my husband who was everything sweet but short. I was taller than him.
I was sure I didn’t like a short guy but my husband over-compensated for his height with so many things. He was caring when we were dating. And on my birthday he was the first person to call and sing me a ‘happy birthday’ song. He had a way of looking at me. I really loved it. Like I was all he had and he was ready to spend the rest of his days just looking at me. He wouldn’t even blink and when I wore a dress that fit, he would hold my hand and say, “Wow, you look beautiful.”
It was those little things that got me enchanted to him. So the day he suggested that we should get married, I didn’t think twice about it. I said yes and while he was there, I called my dad and told him, “Dad, Asamoah wants to come home to see you guys.” I was simply overjoyed.
We got married in May and in August I got pregnant with Junior. A year and a half after Junior was born, Yaa followed. Ben was born after Yaa, and Lady was born after Ben. Four solid kids in six years of marriage. Our house became a nursery and also an arena where I was always shouting at running kids to be careful.
Time and responsibilities happened to our marriage. My husband changed. He stopped looking at me the way he used to. He stopped telling me how beautiful I am and he even forgot my birthdays. My 35th birthday was supposed to be special. I talked about it all year and how I’d wanted to celebrate it. The day finally came and he forgot to even say happy birthday to me. What happened to this man who was once everything sweet?
Not that I had changed too much. I still was that girl. Even after four kids and a lot of sleepless nights, I still maintained my size twelve. I had my flat tummy and firm hips. The only thing I had that I didn’t have before marriage were the stretch marks I had on my tummy and some portion of my hips. So why was he not looking at me as he used to? What happened to him to make him forget about all the things he did to get me attracted to him? I was worried.
Maybe insecure.
I started investigating him. Maybe he had met someone who was turning his world around since I became a baby-making machine. I checked his phones often while he was asleep. I went through his bags and checked his laptop. Anything at all. Some times you get a hint of infidelity but there was nothing concrete to hang on to charge him of infidelity. He would go to work and come back so late with flimsy excuses. Sometimes his breathe felt wrong and he smelled something different than his usual self but he always had an excuse to cover up his misdeeds.
I was paired with a guy in my office for a project. He sensed my worries and sometimes asked if I was going through problems at home. I didn’t talk about my marriage with anyone so I brushed his questions off. After the project, our boss suggested that we celebrate it as a team with an outing together. We went after work and I intentionally didn’t call my husband to tell him. I only called the care-taker of the kids to ensure they were alright.
I was out there in the night having fun and checking on my phone if he’d called or even messaged me to ask where I was. Nothing. I got home after 12am and he was peacefully lying there naked and snoring. I made a lot of noise just to get him to wake up and ask where I went. When he lifted his head and saw me, he said, “Hurry up and turn off the light. It’s hurting my eyes.”
That was when I knew he had given up on the marriage. It’s different when you don’t compliment me. It’s different when you don’t look at me the way you used to. Those are petty things I can let go but to see me walk into the room late at night and all you care about is the light is something I couldn’t wrap my head around.
The next morning I tried to pick up a fight with him; “I could have been kidnapped and you wouldn’t have cared to look for me. Your wife and a mother of your kids stayed out this late and you had no questions for her? What are you made of, stone?” I walked around him, shouting and screaming, just to get him to fight. At least to let me know there’s still something in the marriage worth fighting for. He only walked by, picked his shirt and left the house. The only thing he said was, You’re a big woman. I’m not your babysitter to be checking up on you.”
When the one you love doesn’t care about you, it hurts but if that person is your husband, it kills you slowly. It made you question your own sanity; “Maybe it’s not about him, maybe I’m the one being stupid.”
That my project guy kept getting closer and closer. He kept checking up on me and he kept asking questions. The way he looked at me was reassuring. At least there was someone who made me feel alive. One day he told me he likes me. He told me, “It’s strange that I could still love you even when you’re wearing someone’s ring.” He got me wet. It was the first time in a long while someone was talking to me about love and actually did look at me as human. I told him, “You’re a good guy and young. I’m older than you are. Find yourself a good girl, fall in love with her and stop wasting your time with old cargo like me. I’m so old even my husband has stopped looking at me.”
But he didn’t stop. He kept coming. I loosened up my defenses for him. I didn’t say yes to his proposal but I played along. He kissed me once and I didn’t fight it. It was awkward but it made me feel wanted. We talked a lot and he sent me naughty videos. He would usually say, “When I get you, this and that is what is going to happen.” I would only laugh and tell him to keep trying.
I knew I wasn’t going to sleep with him but I was old enough to know that anything at all could happen. I was in the kitchen cooking when I heard my husband roaring my name. He rushed to me in the kitchen holding my phone in his hand. “Herh Belinda, you see I’ve caught you. So you’re sleeping around, right? Who’s that guy? Who’s that guy you’ve been chatting with? Huh?” You’re cheating huh?”
Before I could say a word, bam! A slap landed on my face. I sat down on the floor waiting for the worse to happen. He kept screaming and spitting and screaming. He wouldn’t let me talk. He pulled me up and said, “Talk to me, who is he?” I answered, “He’s interested in me that’s all. The only thing I’ve done wrong was to give him attention. Nothing more.”
He screamed, “You liar! See what he had been sending you. If you hadn’t done it already, how could he send you that? Is that normal?”
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That night I was there when he came home with his mistress. I only have to keep the kids away from seeing her. They sat at the hall kissing and fondling. Doing everything to get me to react. I watched them. The girl, she wasn’t even pretty. And she had the same smell my husband usually returned home with. After the girl had gone, he came to tell me, “You think you are the only one who can cheat huh?” I told him, You only needed an excuse to show me what you’ve been doing all the time.”
We lived in separate rooms afterward. We were like tenants sharing the same apartment. He kept telling everyone who cared to listen that he caught me cheating. I knew our marriage wasn’t going to survive but it hurt me so much that I gave him a reason. Now he walks around telling people that he left me because he caught me cheating with several men.
When a man wants to leave, he would do everything. I mean everything.
—Belinda, Ghana
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