My marriage had been stale for a very long time. Three kids, nine years in marriage, and everything had changed. We went through life as a routine. Nothing new happened. Kids, cooking, cleaning, separating fights, and listening to complaints. My husband and I looked like tenants. We fought more than we made love. I looked in the mirror and got depressed at how I looked and who I’d become.......CONTINUE READING THE ARTICLE FROM THE SOURCE>>>>>
I remember telling myself, “Is that all there is to life? Until we die, is that all there is to see?”
I was a beautiful woman before marriage. I walked with a spring in my step and felt like I could take on the world. I loved education, so that’s all I did until my husband met me and made me a wife. I complained about who I’d become, but he hadn’t been any better. He’d let himself go and currently looked like a typical Ghanaian dad at forty-two: pot belly, dull eyes, thick fingers, and slender legs. He also went through life as if that was all he had.
At the counter, paying for what I’d bought, I realized a man in the next queue was looking at me. When our eyes met, he didn’t look away. I did. The second time our eyes met, he winked at me, and I smiled. All of a sudden, bells started ringing in my brain. “Why is this guy winking at a mother of three? Does he think I’m a teenager?”
When I paid and was walking out, I looked back at him. He was still looking at me and smiling. It was his turn to pay, but I quickly rushed out. Just when I was about to step into the car park, I heard a hiss. It was persistent, but I didn’t turn until I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was him.
“Can we talk? I’ve been looking at you the whole time in the shop. I don’t usually do this, but I figured if I let you go, I’ll never have this chance again, so I followed. Can we be friends?”
I stood there wondering why this guy didn’t see a married woman in me, then I remembered I wasn’t wearing my ring. I told him, “A friend? I don’t think my husband would be pleased to know I have a friend.”
He smiled. He didn’t believe me. I leaned against the car next to me, ready to talk. I took him through my life, and he did the same. I told him about the three kids, my husband at home, and the wonderful marriage I had. Yes, I lied to get away. He was receptive and warm and very funny too. I gave him my number and said, “Don’t mind me. We can be friends. There’s a space in my life for someone else.”
So it started. He called me beautiful. He asked about the kids often and seldom acknowledged my husband. He only mentioned my husband when he was telling me how lucky my husband was to have me. Slowly, he ate into my mind, and I let my guard down. I said yes to a lunch date. That day, I dressed for him. I felt like a painted old car—new and shiny on the outside, but the engine didn’t sing new tunes.
I acted girlish around him. I even selected food teens would choose. I didn’t know that side of me existed until I sat next to him having lunch. I paid attention to his words and looks like never before. He had beautiful eyes, something I didn’t notice the first time. I compared him to my husband. “My husband wouldn’t tell me this.” Or, “My husband has never made me feel this way.”
When we were parting, we hugged. He said I felt like home. I told him he felt like a tall tree. I had to stand on the tips of my toes to reach his chest. While going back to the office, I thought of him. I allowed myself to be consumed by his thoughts.
That meeting happened every Thursday, and I dressed for it. “Won’t you come and see where I live one day?” he asked me. I answered, “Why not? If you want me to, I will gladly come.”
I wasn’t thinking clearly whenever I was with him. It was love, and the newness he brought into my life made me fall easily, like a teenager in love. He hadn’t proposed anything, but I was in love. He never called me by name. He called me Ahoɔfɛ. To me, there was no greater proposal than that.
I told my husband I had to go to town to see a friend that day, and he agreed. When I dressed up and was leaving, he said, “Eiii, who’s this friend that you’ve taken your time to look this beautiful for?” I answered, “I want her to know my husband treats me very well.”
We parted laughing, but what he said stuck. He called me beautiful. It was subtle, but he did.
On my way to see my new friend, I asked myself, “Am I a cheating wife now?” I laughed at myself, but I went. He had a beautiful house that needed a woman to make it a home. He treated me very nicely and later proposed. I said, “Do you want me to leave my husband for you? I have three kids, remember?” He answered, “Does it matter?”
I gave him hope. I told him I would think about it, but on my way home, I texted him, “I thought we were friends, but the way things are going, I’m scared it will destroy my marriage. Can you give me space to think about this critically? It means don’t call until I do. I’ll come back with positive news, trust me.”
I never went back. When he called, I never picked up. I think he got what I was trying to say and gradually stopped calling. Emotionally, I cheated on my husband. I was in love with this stranger. I’m no better, but I learned why people cheat. Cheating isn’t far from anyone. If someone identifies what we lack and promises to give it to us, we may easily fall as long as we entertain that promise.
I’m not judging myself or anyone who cheats, but you see, a little bit of awareness may help. Men will cheat because they see in this new girl what they don’t see in their wives, but if we all agree that new things will one day grow old, we’ll be content with the old things we have, or we’ll try to put life back into the old stuff.
My husband called me beautiful when I dressed up. It meant he didn’t say it because I didn’t dress for him. I changed my ways. I dressed well. It wasn’t verbal, but he called me beautiful in the way he looked at me differently. What he wanted to say shone in his eyes. That is OK. The rest can be worked on.
