I Leave My Married Ex-Boyfriend To All The Rivers Surrounding Us

He worked at a place I frequently visited for business transactions. We often exchanged pleasantries whenever I went there. And though I thought he was nice, I didn’t feel special to him in any way. I saw that he treated all customers with the same pleasant demeanour.......CONTINUE READING THE ARTICLE FROM THE SOURCE>>>>>

Honestly, I had no intention of getting to know him beyond polite business interactions. But we became friends over time. Then, he proposed.

I wasn’t sure about him. I felt a man his age should already have a woman in his life. So I told him, “I am not ready for a relationship yet but we can be friends.”

He said he was a patient man so he didn’t mind waiting till I was ready. Through our friendship, he invited me to his home. The first time I went, we just spent time having conversations.

The second time, he asked me to cook something for him. I didn’t have a problem with that.

While I was cooking I casually asked him, “Where’s your wife or girlfriend?” He went silent. I laughed and pressed further, “Your partner should be around to help with cooking and cleaning on weekends since you’re so busy.” Again, silence.

Finally, he muttered, “I’m not married. Never have been.” Once again, I found it odd that a man like him was indeed single. He sounded serious when he said it but something inside me did not believe him.

We were having conversations when he brought up the subject of married men cheating on their wives. He wanted to know what I thought about the subject. I made my stance clear—I would never date a married man.

He responded, “Why? Haven’t you heard that married men take good care of their girlfriends?”

“No amount of money or generosity would make me date a married man,” I insisted.

He nodded, dropped the subject, and asked me about his proposal. I declined again but the friendship continued.

The next time I saw him was on his birthday when I went to his workplace for business. “Is it because you don’t want to buy me a birthday gift that you’ve been too busy to talk to me these days?” He asked teasingly.

We laughed about it but later I bought him a watch as a present. He was appreciative of it. Nonetheless, it only resumed the whole proposal talk.

This time around, I asked his age. He said he was in his late thirties. I am in my late twenties so I felt the gap between us was quite wide. Regardless, I decided to give him a chance and see how it goes.

Instead of relaxing and settling into the relationship, I kept getting this nagging feeling that something was off. I couldn’t place a finger on it but I couldn’t shake it off either.

I started asking him repeatedly, “Are you sure you don’t have a secret wife stashed away somewhere?” Every time, he shook his head vehemently and said no. He even got offended at some point but I wouldn’t let it go.

Finally, in exasperation, he said, “See, I’ve never been married. At my age, women have always lied to me, cheated on me, even aborted pregnancies.”

I was surprised. “Do you mistreat women?”

He looked offended. “No, I’m very gentle.”

He painted himself as a victim—his ex, he claimed, had even gotten pregnant for his own friend. I pitied him.

To put my mind at ease, he said I was welcome at his home anytime. He even said, “You can sleep here whenever you want.” But I never did.

Along the line, he started pressuring me for intimacy. When I asked why the rush, he said, “I need a woman to build a life with. You’re a good woman. Please, get pregnant for me, and I’ll marry you immediately.”

I recoiled. “No, where I come from we don’t get pregnant out of wedlock. I haven’t even been intimate with a man before. And I intend to keep that way until marriage.”

He didn’t force me but he never shut up about wanting to have me. A few weeks down the line, I found myself on a bus to his place. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wanted to turn around, but I felt like I was under a force larger than me. That night, I gave myself to him. We tried three times before he was successful.

The next morning, curiosity gnawed at me. While he was out, I rummaged through his bag. My heart stopped when I found contraceptives, his passport, and a birth certificate that had his real age.

He was not in his thirties. He is forty-one. I felt sick. He deceived me. If I had known the truth earlier, I would have walked away. But now, I was entangled.

To my own shock, I started liking him after the intimacy. I fell for him in a way I couldn’t explain, as if he was the only man in the world.

They say love makes you blind but my eyes were wide open. I could see clearly the red flags when they started popping up.

I would be on a call with him and he would suddenly hang up, only to be on another call within a few seconds. When he travelled, his phone would be off until he was outside his lodging. I questioned him, but he always had an answer, and always found a way to manipulate me.

Sometimes I knew he was lying but I would still believe him. Does it make sense? Maybe I was under a spell.

During my last visit, we were intimate. So a few weeks later, I called and said, “I went to the hospital. I’m pregnant.” Of course, it wasn’t true. I was just testing him to see if he indeed wanted me to have a baby for him.

You should see how easily he ghosted me. The once-eager man who wanted me pregnant was suddenly unavailable. When I confronted him, he said, “The timing is not right. I’m dealing with a lot. I can’t be there for you financially if you have the baby.”

A 41-year-old man claiming he wasn’t ready for a child?

I started pulling away, preparing myself for the inevitable breakup. But he didn’t let go easily. He was possessive, and controlling. He even made me screenshot my call logs to prove I wasn’t talking to other men.

One day, he even visited me unannounced at work. To keep him away, I told him I was seeing someone else. He nearly collapsed. For days, he stopped eating, his body temperature was so high that I got scared.

He even reported me to my landlord, claiming that I broke his heart. When I explained everything to the landlord’s wife, she looked at me and said, “I think your man is married.”

A day later, I found out she was right. I confronted him, but he denied it. Then I sent him a screenshot. It was a conversation he once had with a vendor. He purchased some items and told the vendor, “Send them to my wife at this address. Her name is Sabina.” My name is not Sabina so I am definitely not that wife.

Her name had been on his phone all along, raw and unassuming. I had seen it countless times but never connected the dots. Instead, I had suspected another woman, a lady named Eva, who always called him when I was around.

I found out later that nobody at his workplace knew he was married. He wore no ring, and all his official documents listed him as single. That’s how he lured women in.

When he realized I caught him, he lashed out. Called me a prostitute. Accused me of being promiscuous.

I asked him, “Between you and I, who is the promiscuous one? You were the one who broke my virginity as I am in my late twenties.” Then I blocked him.

But I wasn’t done.

I found his wife on Facebook and told her everything. I needed her to know.

She was shocked. But instead of anger, she was kind. “William and I had a traditional marriage. We have children. Our firstborn is sixteen. I am sorry he did this to you. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

She confronted him, and he—predictably—lied. He told her I had threatened to destroy their marriage, that I had been the one chasing him.

I shook my head at his audacity to keep acting like the victim.

I am not wicked enough to take a life but I leave him to all the rivers surrounding us. May they deal with him and punish him. I want him to suffer mercilessly for making me a side chick in his marriage.

What hurts me most is that I should have trusted my instincts. The odd feeling I had from the start was right. If only I had walked away earlier.

– Nhyira