Comfortable In Your Marriage? Find Out How I Nearly Murdered My Husband – A Woman Shares An Educative Lesson On Marriage
I Nearly Murdered My Husband!
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 jandedNaija 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 her to have a tete-a-tete 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 PH 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 civilization. Not that I have any feelings for oyibo guys, but one could never tell who her savior 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 attended 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 Jules! 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.
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 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 to meet with my people 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 stop 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 in 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. But leaving Steve with the feeling of being in-charge is not enough to make him stay beside me as much as would want him to even though something keeps telling me Steve is up to no good.
Men! But it still remains the peace of graveyard quietness for me because the private investigator I hired to watch closely my husband’s philandering ways has come back to me with very disturbing pictures of my husband in the company of my senior and the local politician’s daughter as they go about hell-bent on painting the entire landscape of Port Harcourt red at my expense. Naturally, I was hurt but I knew polygamy has worst tendency to balloon into an all-out war when the wives allow their husband to play them against one another. That is why it is said that polygamists live longer than men in monogamous marriages. Polygamy is a contraption with the seeming outlook picture of a male-dominated society that is out to help the larger population of unmarried women by fixing them in normal families but in reality is actually giving the men caught in this high blood pressure giving marital practice the very best of life.
Steve is a very handsome man with the attractiveness of his hypnotizing eyes and aquiline nose being his best facial features that make it impossible for women not to dream about being his slave for life. Once you get hooked on Steve, ‘you don enter one chance’ if I may borrow this line from D’Bang. Add his superbly sculptured long and healthy legs to his deep baritone voice from where his raw sexiness oozes in that his rich London drawl, you’ll discover why it is difficult for women to realize that he is forty-two years old and married and therefore, should let him be. Steve has made it a habit not to be caught death wearing his wedding band and coupled with his younger looks and soft features, women are always helpless around him. He has more than enough money to burn and with the economy going stupid, Nigerian girls will never think twice before they start warming up to him and virtually seen to be begging him to accept them to be their sex slaves. He remains my man because of his love for kinkiness in bed. Steve it was the first man that actually gave me a head and make me taste heavens. I know I have my feminine pride, but I wouldn’t accept to fold my arms while other girls and my scheming senior shove me off the carpet in a game I’m good at.
It then occurred to me that I’ll have to go back to the drawing board to do everything womanly possible to re-ignite the spark of the love that once existed between me and Steve and live to see the look of shock that will appear on the faces of my competitors when they get to see Steve back in my warm arms of love which he has left for close to two months. As body no be firewood, I’m due for servicing. I knew I drew Steve away from me as his demands in bed were not good for my newfound status as a weaning mother which leaves me tired most times as my son nurses such voracious appetite, but at the moment, even if not for my sexual healing and needs, I needed to send the message across to my spoilers that I still have what makes Steve crawl to me. Happy I shall be the day I will look them in the eyes and tell them this: “eat your hearts out, you miserable home wreckers and husband snatchers!”
I learnt a lot from a maternal aunt of mine who married into a polygamous family as a second wife and is quite adept at manipulating her husband to do her bidding. I saw her in action from close quarters while I holidayed with them in their big family house. She even used me in some instances in helping her wage the wives war against her two other co-wives. Her rich husband married them three but still loves my aunt more than he loves the last wife who happened to be my auntie’s house help whom the husband put in family way while in line of her duty.
When I put a call through my good dear aunt and unburdened my heart to her, she offered me free lectures and gave me a few tips on how to win my husband’s love back and make him stay glued to me at all times.
…to be continued!