When my last relationship came to an end abruptly, and the pain nearly plucked my heart into my stomach, I decided enough was enough. I wasn’t going to allow myself to fall in love again. So I walked down to a jewelry shop and spent the last amount in my account on an 18-karat gold wedding ring. I wanted it to be believable.

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I got home, stood in front of my mirror and recited the wedding vow to myself, telling myself, “For better for worse, through good health and bad, until death do us part.”

I was about to start my master’s program and I knew I was going to meet new people, especially men. I wanted to avoid them. Men were not good people to me. Men would see me today and the next day start a relationship with me. I didn’t play hard to get. If you ticked the boxes, I said yes. If not, I would tell you respectfully that the two of us cannot work so you shouldn’t waste your time. And once I told you this, I cut the rope that linked both of us.

I was that easy to get. Maybe it was the reason those I loved played me like a tennis ball and left me at the edge of the court to suffer the weather. Easy to get, easy to discard. So I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t going to love again. I would finish my master’s program, go on to find a better life and maybe live the life of a nun.

At the office, they saw my ring and asked questions. They asked when it happened. They asked who the man was. Those close to me wanted to see wedding photos when I told them it was a secret wedding. A lot of them didn’t believe me but I wore my ring proudly, a woman married to herself and determined to keep it that way.

I met Johnson in school and he later became my group head. When school closed, I joined his car because he was going my way. We became good friends and since he thought I was married, he played it safe while keeping a healthy distance. We were the only serious people in our group so we met to discuss assignments, had online meetings to brainstorm and later started talking about personal things.

He asked me, “Why are you all women like that?”

He was having a relationship problem with his girlfriend so he thought it wise to discuss it with me, thinking I was married and experienced in matters of love. When he was right and his girlfriend was wrong, I wanted to support him but because of what I’d been through, I always wanted his girlfriend to be right. Even when she was wrong, I supported her. Then he’d tell me, “You’re supporting her because you’re a woman, I know.”

One day he asked me about my husband. I told him he had traveled out of the country. He asked since when and I told him right after we got married. He asked if he was planning to come for me and I told him I didn’t know. He said, “Are you happy the way things are?”

Whenever the conversation was getting deeper, I looked for another topic to brush away what was making me uncomfortable. I gave him pieces of lies to support my fake marriage. I thought he believed me. I thought he had fallen for the charm of the ring just as everyone in my class had.

A few months before the end of our program, he broke up with his girlfriend. When he told me about it, something about my past breakups sprang up and I started feeling anger about the fact that he’d left his girlfriend.

I blamed him. I compared him to all my exes and told him he wasn’t a good person. “Why are you men like that? We love you with everything and stay through your nonsense but you won’t give us half the grace we give you. What’s that?” He answered, “Why are you angrier than the one I broke up with? She’s fine so why are you taking pills for her headache?”

I walked away from him and stayed away from him the whole day. I should have gone with him after class but to avoid him, I told him I would stay on campus and study. When he left, I saw myself in a corner of the classroom, alone and miserable. I cried for no reason. I told myself I needed help if someone’s breakup could make me feel this way.

Johnson sent a message when he got home. He called. I didn’t respond to any of them. He sent another message later in the night: “If what I said hurt you in any way, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to.”

Days before our graduation, he asked which members of my family were coming to my graduation. I told him no one and he asked, “Not even him?” I answered, “Who? There’s no him.” He said, “I mean your husband.” I responded, “Oh him? How can he come all the way from the UK?”

A day after our graduation, he took me out. According to him, we were going to celebrate success and the suffering we’d gone through while in school. He picked me up from my house. For the first time he opened the car’s door for me. When we got to our destination, he did the same, opened doors and pulled chairs for me to sit down. In the middle of the outing he said, “You’re not married. Please say the truth.”

I laughed, “What are you saying? I’m two years old in marriage. What are you talking about?”

It’s easier to live the truth than a lie, especially when you’re not a true liar. That evening Johnson listed all the inconsistencies he had found in my marital story. “The first time you said your husband was in the US but recently you said he’s in the UK.” I retorted, “Yes, that’s because he has moved locations.”

He asked, “How long have you been married?” “Two years,” I answered. He retorted, “The other time you said three.”

We argued. I said he wasn’t listening to me. He said he had been listening to me very well but I was the one who didn’t listen to myself. He said, “Make me believe you. Show me a photo of you and your husband.”

I was only pushing men away with the ring. I never thought a night would come where I would write exams on my own love story.

“Johnson, why are you doing this?” I asked. “Who sent you?” He answered, “I’ve gone through your Facebook. From the day you created it to your last post. I’ve gone through all your photos but there’s no hint of marriage or a photo of a man. Please confess.”

I leaned back on my seat and folded my arms while looking straight into his eyes, “Do you think I’ll bring my marriage on social media just like everyone else?” He answered, “Then show me a photo. I’m waiting.”

He had done a very extensive search and had even chatted with a friend of mine on Facebook asking about my marriage. At that point I had no reason to lie. I’d worn the ring for over a year, completed my master’s and had achieved the aim of wearing the ring. I told him the whole truth while he sipped and looked straight into my eyes.

He said, “Do you know how many good men you’ve driven away because of this move?” I answered, “Men are not good people. I’m glad I drove them away.”

He asked, “How about me?” I answered, “Are you a man?”

We burst out laughing so loud it drew attention to us. He thanked me for telling him the truth and I thanked him for being a good friend but he told me he had done all the work he had done because he wanted to be more than a friend. He wanted a relationship. I told him we had no reason being together. “We met because of school. School is over so we should be over too.”

A few weeks after the outing, we agreed to give love a try. Seven years and two kids later, we are still giving love a try.

When going through pre-marital counseling, we told the counselor we were giving love a try and he told us we can only try love but not marriage. “You marry only when you’ve tried love and you think love is worth the steps to the aisle.”

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You remember that ring I wore to ward off men? That’s the same ring he wears today. He told me if it helped me ward off men, then it can help him ward off women too. He bought rings for me and took mine.

I was running away from men and relationships only to fall into another man’s trap and a relationship that looks like it’s going to last until death do us part.

—Sherry

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