I hate him with passion. I was going to call him my husband to describe the ‘him’ I am talking about but hell no. I shall not dignify him with such a wonderful word that he has bastardized and abused as far as I’m concerned. He is not qualified to be called a husband by any standard. Thank God the marriage didn’t produce any child either.
A little background to our marriage; I got married to a man I once believed was the best thing to have happened to me. I was tender, naive and almost fragile when we got married. When I said I was naive, I say it with every seriousness I can muster. I was naive in matters relating to man and woman; I will leave you to figure out what that means. When we met, he swept me off the ground with his good demeanor and awesome sense of humour. Same for my parents, especially my mother who loved him like one of her children. He promised me and my mother that he was going to treat me like a queen, he even called me the woman after his heart. Have I mentioned to you that he came from a very good family? I wouldn’t say more than that not to expose his lovely but somehow unfortunate family.
A little above 14 months into our wedding, everything changed so quickly. I began a journey to hell. I’m talking about journey to the real hell. It first started as some subtle suggestions and little exposure here and there. I was alarmed at first and vehemently opposed the idea of doing things I considered abominable. I insisted there were limits couples could go in their quest for sexual bliss. However, there was little I could do at the time because of my naivety. He was more exposed and far experienced than I was. What didn’t he introduce me to after I fell like a pack of cards as result of his pressure and antics? He manipulated my vulnerabilities and got me addicted to all manner of vices. Drinking, smoking, pornography and the height of it all…threesome. You heard right. That was the height of it. I would make friends with girls, the kind of girls he lusts after, make them become very close to the family, lavish them with with food and drinks and gifts. And when they have become very close to us, gradually, I would introduce the idea of sleeping with my husband and I. Gross! Some of them would express some shock at first but strangely, none of them rejected the idea in its entirety, I repeat, none. It was a vice he loves so much, the more ladies I brought, the more he showered me with all manner of gifts including cash. He said I took good care of his fantasies and that, that was a hallmark of a good wife.
Things began to fall apart, however, when I couldn’t meet his amorous desires anymore. It was deliberate but I guess that was my journey to liberation. Some of the girls that could have easily jumped into bed with us left town either for school or in pursuit of other endevours. He showed another colour of him when I couldn’t bring in more girls like I mentioned; he started bringing home girls himself. He would motion to me to join him in bed with them. For some reasons that I can’t even recall, I turned down his requests to join him in bed with some strange. He soon became abusive and would beat me up at the slightest provocation. Beating me up became a routine in the house. I initially vowed to see it out until one day my mother got wind of the beating from our neighbour and arranged to bring me back home. My parents had tried to reach out to him all to no avail. His parents also tried to see him and to hear his own side of the story but he would have none of that. It was when I moved out of his house that it seemed something fell off my eyes. I couldn’t believe the kind of lifestyle I had led over a period of 14 months. I was irritated and infuriated at the same time. I almost hated myself if not for my mother who kept telling me I had nothing to gain from blaming and possibly harming myself in the process.
It is more than two years now and nothing has changed. In fact, the last time my parents spoke with him in order to establish his position on our marriage, he told them that as far as he was concerned I was not in existence same for my parents.
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