OF VOWS THAT FOLLOWED WAR

It all started when my eyes locked with those of this handsome man. He was and still is so handsome;a kind yet deep pair of eyes, I truly believed he was seeing right through my soul. He was of a fair complexion and in the era where skincare was still an enigma I must add that his skin was quite healthy. He was easy on my eyes and his demeanour was not innocuous , just like I love them; cute on the outside but rough and rocky on the inside.

It would be deceitful of me to say that, I intended for it to lead to marriage. I was young, hot and still much in my dance floor years. However, that night, when I saw my knight in shinning armour, something deep in my belly seemed to direct me to a thing higher than a flimsy short -lived romantic flame. There has to be ….. more. The more was what nothing had prepared me for. I must add, that while I noticed him, the man was surrounded by other equally alluring and radiant ladies. I was convinced that this would end in a tryst but as I mentioned earlier, there was a call to more.

Fast forward to weeks later, he started his pursuit for me. He was intense. Relentless. Chaotic too. I mistook his chaos for obsession, which if I knew better, I would have nipped at the bud. He was a true romantic; dinner dates, walk dates and flowers. He must have learnt from the French.

I saw no need to waste any time ; he loved me, this I was certain about and I equally loved him. We agreed that his people should pay my parents a visit, as culture and tradition dictates. My folks and siblings hit it off with him as soon as they arrived. It might have partly been a joy that their daughter was doing this marriage thing with honour or that they were truly exhilarated. Our traditional ceremony was full of pomp and vibrancy . Lots of dance and songs sang in beautiful melodies . Many decades later, our village people still haven’t seen an equal. With the blessings of the elders and family, we set off to our marital bliss.

Only that the bliss was short-lived. I am career woman, it was imperative that I outsourced help to care for our little bundle of joy. We had been blessed a few months into our marriage. With the help of my mother -in-law, I found help . The young girl arrived one evening. She seemed quite young and delicate and naive. She however, said, kids were her speciality. My baby took in to her with haste, I was even ashamed as a mother to say the least. I did not suspect my husband would even entertain the thought of having a clandestine , leave alone my help. This was the first crack in our marriage.

It all started with him, buying things in doubles, which he quickly and unprovoked added that it was his was to ensure that our help did not feel left out. This, was not an anomaly , as he is one to give big tips too. I could also see his entire emotional and physical repertoire shift around her . Then one night, it happened. He called her , ‘ babe.’ I was too stunned to speak. The tear ducts were on an overdrive that night. It was my first taste of betrayal. This was all that had been happening started making sense. That night, I insisted on taking the couch, I knew him to be my weakness and a mistake would be costly.

I wept the whole night, akin to a freshly widowed woman. The next morning, I could notice the young girl tiptoeing around me. That was when I sensed her guilt and picked a glass threw it against the wall , as shock washed through her, I beat her up. It was now a cat fight, I recall myself using all the energy being fueled by betrayal, pain and spite. I thought she could leave the next day only that she didn’t. She reported me to the police and in my many years of living, that was the first time I spent a night in police custody. My now cheating husband came and bailed me out. Is this not what love is about ? In love and in war ?

I ensured she packed her bags and left. It did not matter that she was so god with my baby. I could not stand her taking care of my big baby too. Her job description did not include tempting and entertaining. Only that , despite her not being innocent, in hindsight, I fought the wrong person.

This whole time, I kept wondering to myself what had become of the man I married. I suspected fatherhood and marriage were being cruel to him. I suspected my baby’s cries might have driven him out of our marital bed. Not once did I express my disappointments to him. I made excuses for him, a role I had not auditioned for. So this one time my job bonus came in, I handed him a substantial amount of money to go out and shake off some steam – one he had created himself. I saw a new , fresh wave of joy wash over him. I knew, I had not only salvaged our dying marriage but also brought back my husband. A wise woman must do what she has to.

Only that, this was the beginning of the second crack in my marriage. My husband must have bragged of having an overflow of cash. Because I recall being woken up by a commotion in my living room. I was startled as I initially imagined that thugs had broken into the house. I was utterly scared for my baby and I . I could not fathom being unlived inhumanely . Only that as I finished ascending the flight of stairs, I saw thieves to my husband’s heart. My husband had come home with a bartender. I knew this as she was still in her uniform. May I bring it to your attention that physically she was a sharp contrast of what I was. I fall under the petite category and she was far from that.

I could feel anger and pain surge through me, like shock waves. Unlike the first time, this time I didn’t shed a tear. I asked my husband what he needed. The man was still deeply hammered , the girl was no different. His speech was slurred, lacking clarity The girl was calling him all sorts of pet names. I also observed that they were not strangers to each other. There was an air of familiarity between the duo. As I watched this, pangs of jealousy attacked me. If this happened today, I could be better equipped to make better choices. Back then, the idea of losing my husband drove me to a non-existent bar. I thought that this time I must do something more radical. Something that would make my husband remember why he chose me in the first place.

So , I took my husband up the stairs. The baby was now sleeping through the night. After ensuring that I had tucked my husband away, I knew no one would stop me. I had to teach her a lesson, she would narrate to her colleagues and they would forever see my husband like a plague. I was ready to fight her only that I did not. She pleaded to let off things her chest. She told me that if I wanted to lose the remaining dignity , I should take classes and arm myself as the problem was not the women. The weapon , formed against our marriage was my husband. I learnt that he always told people that he knew I lacked the backbone to leave.

I will conclude by saying that this bartender changed my life. I knew love, passion and hate are lethal but stupid and drunk are worse. We talked things through with my husband. We attended couples counseling at church. I can never romanticize infidelity neither disrespect. When the cracks get in, it takes a lot of work to repair and rebuild. Especially because of the mistrust. Even though I stayed and kept fighting for my marriage, the countless times in which I resented my husband. With the help and support of family, we sailed through the storm,my husband also owned up to his mistakes. While I can’t speak for him, since putting in the work, our marriage has become so blissful, through a lot of forgiveness. While others might say the bar was too low, I prefer to say my bar didn’t exist.