Messy Divorce: I Joined Forces Against My Husband With My Senior
Marrying the love of your life is a beautiful thing but when you get too comfortable in your marriage, you will definitely end up being treated like you are nothing. This is most noticeable in polygamous marriages. And mine is no different.
When the cupid arrow hit me, I fell almost dead-drunk and refused to wake up and smell the coffee until I realized I had been conned by the love of my life. It took me years to forgive him but not after I had made some expensive mistakes.
This is my story.
It has always been my dream to marry a janded Naija man. It became an obsession when in quick succession; I rejected the suitors who lined up in front of my father’s compound in the East where I came from for my hand in marriage. When it became obvious that something was wrong with me, my mum took it upon herself to have a heart-to-heart chat with me. When I confessed my obsession with a probable husband who lives either in the UK or USA, she went to my dad with my strange obsession. My father went mad and called me all sorts of names and washed his hands off me. His anger stemmed from the fact that I was fast becoming an old maid even though I had a good job in Port Harcourt where I’m working with an oil prospecting company.
When I left our home that December for Port Harcourt Garden City after the Christmas holidays, my mind was set wholly on one thing, to win the heart of a man over, enough to make him propose to me. One of the scenes I hit was an exotic club in highbrow section of PH which attracts more expatriate workers than Nigerian guys who have seen the corridors of civilizations. Not that I have any feelings for oyibo guys, but one could never tell who her saviour would end up becoming.
One of those nights, I was grooving and catching my fun so to say when I stumbled on a guy I went to the University of Port Harcourt with. This guy happened to be an engineer while I had read accountancy. How did our paths cross? Our faculties are both in the Choba Campus. He was three years older than me and became my first lover when he claimed me while I was in year one and he in third year. That was the school tradition. By his final year, he had moved on to another prized fresher, and left me hurting. I actually fell in love with him but I recovered fast, and ended up in another guy’s arms, that was of the same department with me.
I had made it girls-all night-out for a friend of mine whose birthday was on the 30th of January. As we were popping our champagne and drinking and literally tearing down the roof of the club while we were trying hard to dance to the latest D’bang’s ‘Make I tell them the koko’ hit song, I felt a man’s hand tap me a bit hard on my right shoulder and I spun around immediately and realized I was already drunk when I ended up in his arms when he tried to stop me from hitting the ground. When he had steadied me on my feet again, I realized in whose company I had ended up. I had a quick memory recall but the alcohol in me wouldn’t allow me nurse the anger struggling to swell in me. Without thinking about it, I gave it up.
“Come on Julles! You have taken enough.” He cooed into my ears in that rich London accent.
My brains started spinning out of control by the time he pulled out a seat at the VIP lounge for me to sit down. That was when I took a stern look into his eyes and said this:
“But I always loved you. Why did you leave me Steve?”
Steve and I ended up in his hotel room where ‘every’ took place. I woke up in the morning without a hangover and had my faculties being spinned silly by the beautiful drawl dripping off Steve’s tongue. By the time we showered and hit the bed where we had our breakfast again, I was praying hard he ended up my husband. This was so because I saw no wedding band where it was supposed to be on his finger.
By the time he took me round the beautiful Garden City of Port Harcourt on a shopping spree, we had started acting like a proper couple. He told me he was in Nigeria in search of a bride. I was all ears and excited. When he asked me why I had remained unmarried, I told him I’m still waiting for the man who took away my flower. I guess that did it for him. When I asked him why he had remained single, he told me that his job with a multinational oil company had taken him round the world and busy. Now that he was in the UK, he felt a family was the best and proper thing to start.
The two weeks we spent together saw me losing control. Everything I did was for him. I made him leave his hotel room for my three-bedroom flat. I cooked for him and warmed his bed like never before. By the time his vacation was a week to its end, he proposed to me. When I introduced him to my family, everybody was happy for me. He came back with his family members and every customs of marriage were fulfilled.
In another three months, he came back and we wedded. Luckily for me, I would not lose my job for his company has had him transferred to Nigeria. Our wedding was a proper society wedding and talk of the Garden City for weeks. Because of our jobs, we were unable to go on honeymoon, though we spent a month in one the best hotels in Port Harcourt.
The week I took in was the week a half-caste black woman came knocking on my door with two children tugging her dress. When she told me who she is, I almost made up my mind to abort Steve’s unborn child. How wicked can a man be! This would be the second time Steve would break my heart like it’s nobody’s business not to talk of the heart belonging to a woman he had sworn his love to. I nursed it in my mind to borrow a leaf from Nollywood movies and poison Steve to death but I really didn’t know where to go to or who to share that kind of evil thought with. No marriage has ever seen the war that I brought to bear on Steven’s head when he walked through the door from work and saw me in the company of his UK family. His heart practically left him as I saw his face drained of precious blood. He knew he had become a lie.
His wife pounced on him while I tore him to pieces that it was his friend who came home that evening with him that came to his rescue. I had never known such shame. How could I tell my family, but tell them I did. They advised me to remain in my matrimonial home as I cannot stop an African man from his polygamous tendencies even as Steve had rented a flat in another part of Port Harcourt for his first family. First family? Gosh! He had started sharing the time he spends with his family between my bed and my senior’s bed. It became evident that he was warming her bed when in the eight month of my pregnancy; my senior’s is three month old. This is a woman whom he later confessed to me had started divorce proceedings in a UK court against him. Over his inability to resist the flesh of very fair women.
When I eventually put to bed, my senior came visiting me and my baby boy. That was when we started hatching the plan to make Steve pay for his meanness to the womenfolk. As per her advice, we agreed to stop feeding him proper meal and to equally suspend him from our beds. Within two weeks, news started reaching me that Steve was not going to my senior’s flat neither was he coming my way that he was busy spending precious time in the company of the daughter of a prominent local politician. When I eventually challenged him with the stories of his crude infidelity even in a polygamous setting, he was bold enough to threaten me with divorce for having the dumbness to allow his first wife who nearly ruined him in the UK to rope me into making him remember all that he once forgot he suffered in her hands.
Not that I’m not capable enough to take care of my son in case he divorced me, but I needed my son to grow up under the watch of his father. I mended my ways fast with Steve and have accepted my position in his life and have vowed to let him feel in-charge of our home. Of course, his relationship with the daughter of the prominent politician was his game plan to fight us back. It worked for him. I don’t care because all I wanted in my life is peace. And that is what I’m enjoying now in this polygamous setting.