He has a Side Chick……


Side Chick, Mistress, The other woman; She is that girl who shares your man or worse enjoys your man more than you do. . She is the one your man pings early in the morning just to tell her “Good Morning Beautiful”. When he is with her, he is this cool guy who knows all the cool joints in town, they both sing along to Dorobucci on the radio. She is the one he takes along when he goes on business trips. It is just more convenient, she doesn’t have to think of who to leave her children with, besides she is more fun, she is the one he does acrobatic sex with, the girl who has enough time and energy to match his libido. You on the other hand are the wife, the one he has “married sex” with – the ” flam-bam-bam-yawn-are we done yet” type.

Yes he comes home to you every night but how is that going? Does he still hold you close to him every night, do you guys still play and fight under covers or does he turn his back to you and acts like he is too deep asleep to notice you have been tapping him. Yes he still buys you stuff, bags, perfumes, dresses and stuff, that’s if you are lucky though but then he buys them to ease his conscience after he and the side chick has spent a whole day shopping or worse. If the side chick is the “nice” type, she makes him buy them for you. She goes “Baby, This perfume is nice, your wife will like it”, “She doesn’t need it.” he responds frowning because he is a bit uncomfortable his mistress is picking a gift for his wife but she prevails on him.

But then I have news for you, this side chick, she usually doesn’t want to take your place, She has a boyfriend or even a fiance and so has no desire to chase you away. No, it’s only learners that operate that way. The wise side chicks are comfortable being just that, they even add you as a friend on Facebook, and they follow you on Twitter (Trust me, you most of the time don’t know they are your rival). They like the pictures of your cherub faced children, when you post your hubby’s photo captioning it as world’s best husband and gushing about how you love him to bits. They comment on it, they go “Awww, I covet”. (Yes they really covet and errr, they are already getting the better deal).

Some will even buy presents for your kids on their birthdays. You may or may not know the gifts are from them, it all depends on how far gone your husband is in this game. He could act like he got the gift himself or tell you its from this friend or colleague of his; Mrs Lagbaja  she really likes the child as he is her son’s birthday mate. You even tell him to call so you can say thanks. Of course the Mrs Lagbaja or Mummy Tamedun is to make you not suspect. Saying Lara or Jennifer my friend wouldn’t have sounded so good.

It’s not like you are totally clueless, some days you ask yourself how come he no longer comments on your hairdo, other days you wonder why he seemed to be impatient or downright mean. It’s Saturday you need to cook three different soups so you could stock the freezer for the week, the floors need to be mopped, the bathrooms cleaned and yes you need to get to the market, not forgetting that you have to take Sisi to her ballet class and Bobo to his Violin lessons. Come evening, you are dog tired and depressed that you have just one more day in the weekend. You smell of Onion, Garlic, Breast milk and baby reflux. You need a hug, you go to dear husband in the Bedroom.

“I am so tired” you say. That’s an opening. You expect to hear “pele baby, why don’t you come lie down here for a while” Instead you hear “What’s that smell?” It’s so horrible, can’t you use a glove or something if you need to cut Garlic or Onions? jeez you can be so annoying.” You have an angry retort on your lips and if you are the no nonsense type, you let off, you give him a piece of your mind, “yada, yada yada”.

Finally your suspicions get the better of you. “I need to know”, you say, so you wait till he is fast asleep and pick his phone to check through (Meanwhile women who want to keep their sanity will not do this no matter the temptation). Your heart rate is 360 beats per minute, yet you can’t stop yourself. You go ahead and boom you get more than you bargained for. Not only is there a side chick, but they are so damn close, he discusses everything with her, he even tells her how much he hates seeing fishnet on your head, he tells her when your six month old had her first teeth, you wince when you read how he tells her he is preparing for work and she goes “Baby be careful o, don’t injure Big Joe with your zipper again, ayam not ready to starve for a week again o”.

You almost had a heart attack. Big Joe? That has to be his ….. “OMG, starve for a week, how often do they do it?” you thought fighting a sudden desire to go stab him to death. But wait oooo, when did he injure Big Joe that you his wife did not know? You check the date of the chat, it was about a week ago and that was when it dawned on you, “won ti gba oko mi” you murmur. “Yeh. I am a housekeeper and mother of his children. This lady is the wife.” Suddenly, it’s clear, you run your fingers through your hair trying to remember the last time you made love or the last time you even had a glimpse of his equipment – “Big Joe”. “O ti pe mehn!” You mumble. You had not made love in over 8 weeks and neither of you had missed it. As for Big Joe, it must be close to a year you saw it last. Lovemaking sorry “meeting your husband” became a middle of the night thing after your second child, no foreplay (ki lonjebe), he just runs his hand over your breasts and you get the message, you spread your legs , he climbs on you and it starts, you feel nothing abi small sha, you are just too fagged out.

It hurts but what can be done? You think of giving him a giving him a big slap on the back to rouse him and demand explanations, but you realize you don’t want that confrontation. Tell Mama? Oh no, you don’t want to do that. No third parties remember. Then you remember someone who wouldn’t tell anybody else; Google! You open the Google search and type “He is cheating, what to do”. There is so much information. Wow!” You say feeling some relief that it’s not just you. Millions of women are in your shoes, there is so much advice to choose from but in the end, it is you who decide on what to do.

First you reply the last message she sent to your husband. It came in after he slept so unread. She tells him to dream of her as she will of him. She says she would be expecting him by 11.am the next day. You reply her “He sure would dream of you darling. However please don’t expect him by 11 tomorrow, he might be late. He has an errand to run for his wife at that same time. Have a nice night dearie.” Your teeth is clenched as you type, yet you derive some satisfaction. This way he will know you know.

So what next? Its morning and you wait for him to say something, you wait to see if he will confront you, but he says nothing. You watch out of the corner of your eyes as he watches you when he thinks you are too preoccupied to notice. Its 10 a.m and he is yet to yake his bath.10.30 am and still he is on the bed. You don’t offer him food even though you made his own portion. You wait till 11 am and tells him you need to talk to him. He doesn’t respond so you start anyway. You talk about how things had to change, that you need to shed and or share some responsibilities. Henceforth, ballet practice and Violin practice will be his call. Yes, he thought house helps were unnecessary but you need one and intend to get right away, this person will resume at 7am everyday and close at 7pm.  Friday nights would be date nights, you two alone anywhere but the house. You intend to go on summer vacation, Seychelles to be precise and he would be coming along. He listens to everything you say and at the end he says. “I am ready to do all you want”. I am sorry Babe”. But you say nothing.

Not So Happily Married …. Episode Fourteen (The Final Episode)

Hello Fam,

How can I thank you beautiful people? You all have been so wonderful. You made NSHM become this really beautiful thing I never imagined it could be. Alas, the show ends today. I hope you enjoy this final episode as much as you have enjoyed the others.

In other news, I will be getting married to my best friend this Saturday. He inspired Jite’s character. I love him so much and can’t wait to start and errrr ayam not Boye sha oooo, although I love her.

Wish me luck and check out our wedding website www.mywedding.com/synapse.

God bless you all.




Please read all episodes here, start bottom-up

On the flight back to Lagos, we talked about almost everything under the sun except anything that had to do with what happened in Calabar. I tried not to think about the incident too but when we got to the house, I couldn’t think of anything else.

Why was I so quick to judge her?

She is a victim like me; I should have understood and empathised with her.

I decided to call her.

“Hey babe”, I said hoping I sounded light hearted enough.

“Omoboye” she said flatly

“How are you?”


“I was thinking about the whole Dapo issue and realised I didn’t handle things well and I will like to apologise for that.”

“Hmmmm, it’s not important.”

“No, Boladale, it is important. I should have known better considering I have had a firsthand experience of how Dapo can be.”

“I know which is why I was surprised at the way you took it. I expected you to be angry but thought by the time I was done explaining you would understand.”

“I should have, but at that time, I was having lots of issues and it majorly had to do with women who get pregnant for other people’s husbands.”

“Oh…..are you and Jite having problems?”

“No.  At least not anymore.” I added remembering how Jite had said I should care less about what people think.

“Oh my God, hope nothing serious?”

“Not really, we are over that now. In fact we are having a vow renewal.”

“A vow renewal? So soon? Are you sure everything is fine? Should I come around; will you like to talk about it?”

“Relax Bola, we are fine, the worst is over. The renewal thing is just for us to say some things to each other, things we were going to start doing differently and all that.”

“Ok, Boye. Just know that I am always here in case you need to talk. So when is it?”

“We haven’t concluded, I will get back to you when we do.”

We talked about other things after that and then I asked her about the pregnancy and what her plans were. She said she was able to get the email address of Dapo’s wife and she had sent her an email about her pregnancy. I gasped at that, my heart aching for the poor woman. I asked Boladale why she felt the need to do it and she said she believed it was best that the woman knew the kind of husband she had. I was sure she would know that already but I said nothing.


I had no intention of killing Dapo at least not with my own hands but what does a man do to the man who abused his wife? Even if it was before she became his wife, the effect was still the same. It still hurt like hell.

The intriguing thing was if anyone had asked me how I would feel about hearing such things, I would have said I would be repulsed but all I felt was anger that anyone could take advantage of Omoboye so and worse, get away with it.

I knew people who could mess him up and inwardly, I thought of how to contact one or two, but still I hesitated.

There was bound to be some bad press given what happened in Calabar and I knew I needed to be there for Omoboye through it all. I resolved to concentrate on weathering the storm first and renewing our vows before taking on Dapo.
“Jite, about that renewal thing, when do you have in mind?” Boye asked breaking into my thoughts.

I looked at her as she walked out of the room and noticed her eyes looked tired.

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Yeah, initially but remember I later agreed it would be a good thing. I think it’s a great idea though, It would be like we are starting anew.”

“Yeah. But I think we should wait for a couple of months so the media could get tired of you first. I expect that the Calabar story will break soon and I have a feeling it might be ugly.”



We didn’t have to wait long. I had calls pouring in by the evening of the same day.

“Babe, what is this that I am seeing everywhere?”

“Someone just cooked a horrible story about you, but wait ooo, they also have pictures.” “They said your husband caught you in bed with another man, who did you offend Boye?”

“Boye, you need to make sure they yank off that story, I know someone who knows someone that can help with that.”

“Don’t mind those bloggers, they are crazy people, but wait o Boye, did it really happen?”

The calls kept coming in and at a point we decided to switch our phones off. .

Later, we decided to check out the stories ourselves. Jite suggested that we go to a particular blog which was notorious for breaking unverified and usually false stories first but I told him I will prefer to Google my name just to know the extent of the damage.

The result of the search was astonishing and despite my “I don’t give a damn stance”, I felt my eyes mist over as I glanced at the web page.

“Popular makeup artist in adultery mess.”

“Caught pants down; MUA  Omoboyede Osereme’s lover rats out on her in public.”

“I rammed you so hard, you farted non-stop.  Femi Brody to Omoboyede Osereme”

“Boye of Delicious Makeovers’s young marriage falls apart.”

Jite’s face was impassive, he slipped a hand around me, opened all the links and together we went over it.

“This is preposterous, why did they decide to twist the story like this? Can’t we do something about this Jite? This is falsehood.”

“Baby, relax. We knew this was going to happen, didn’t we? Besides, we both know most of these bloggers are useless and will publish just about anything if they think it would make them get some hits.”

“But we can’t ignore this Jite, imagine them saying you caught Femi and I in the act and that we have broken up because of the incident.”

“You are not happy they didn’t say you are pregnant for Femi?”

“They dare not, I would have sued them.”

“You know you won’t baby, they don’t deserve that much attention. I give this story four days at the maximum; everyone will forget it and move on.”

“Four days? How will I cope with this way of existence till then?”

“Which way?”

“Holing up in the house with our phones switched off.”

“Of course, we won’t be that way after today. My plan is that we would even go out, so that people can see us. Is there any event that we can go to? If there is, we should go. When they see we are cool, everyone will shut up.”

“Good idea Jite but I can’t think of any. I think we should just make a video recording, tell everyone we are cool and what happened between you and Femi was just a misunderstanding.”

“No babe that will be attaching too much importance to this issue, we are going to ignore this.”

I wanted to argue, I wanted to tell him it was easy for him to say we should ignore it considering he wasn’t the one whose name was being bandied all over the town but common sense prevailed.

It can’t be easy for him too. I decided. No man wants to be pitied; no man wants people to think his wife was whoring.



Busybodies thrive on attention, you give them some; they come back for more. I believed they were all going to get tired of the story soon enough and Boye agreed. When we put on our phones, we told friends and family that we were fine and that my wife didn’t have an affair with anybody, to the bloggers we said; “no comments”. Boye felt they would take that to mean the allegations were right but I told her we shouldn’t care what they think.

With that behind us, it was time to plan our vow renewal party. Boye and I agreed that it would be a small party with fifty guests at the maximum.


We slated our vow renewal for our 6th month anniversary which was two months from the day we got back from Calabar. In an effort to rekindle my friendship with Boladale, I got her involved in the planning. I love elaborate parties but Jite wanted it to be a simple one and so Boladale’s other assignment was to constantly remind me of this.

A week to the renewal party, we were on our way to the caterer’s shop when Boladale received a phone call.

“Oh Christ!” She said repeatedly as she took the call.

What is it Bola, what happened? I asked when she was done.

“It’s Dapo.”

What about him? I asked my fingers shaking as I remembered Jite’s threat that he was going to kill him.

“He has been admitted to the Neuro psychiatric hospital.”

“What? Who told you that?”

“One of my colleagues just called. Apparently, his wife left him and he was trying to celebrate when it happened.”

“Hold on, a minute. His wife left him and he was celebrating?”

“Yeah, I am not surprised about that. He has always said he would like a situation where she gives him breathing space so he could have the freedom to do as he pleases. He is always excited whenever she travels and would even tell us he will be glad if she stayed longer wherever she was.”

“Hmmm, why am I not surprised too? But wait, how exactly did celebrating land him in a psychiatric hospital?”

“The details are quite hazy but my colleague was saying something about drug overdose and how he started acting funny and his children called the neighbours.”

“Oh my God, so the wife left her children?”

“Yeah, I learnt he didn’t allow her to take the kids; something about how no one could take his sons from him.”

“Bastard! How was he hoping to take care of two toddlers?”

“Who knows, maybe he was planning that his mistresses would be their stand in Mom.”

“Poor children.”

“I guess, they would be fine, his wife will go back to get them now.” I just feel a bit sorry for him because he might lose his job. Our employer is quite funny, if he recovers, he won’t want to have anything to do with someone who has been admitted for mental issues.”

“Well he brought it upon himself, what about you Bola, will you be fine? He is your baby’s father after all.”

“Yeah, he is but I have decided to see it as a sperm donor situation. The child is going to be mine alone; she will be taking my father’s name too. I don’t want her to have anything to do with that lunatic. To buttress that further, I have decided I am naming her, Teminikan.”

“Oh, Bola, that’s a good one and I am excited to hear you are having a girl. We are going to dress her up in the prettiest dresses ever and I know she will be so beautiful. In fact, I can’t wait. Have you started shopping for her? I will like to join you.”

Awwww, thanks friend, which reminds me, when are you and Jite starting a family?

“Oh us? We want to wait for like a year, we are still having fun and stuff?”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” I replied ignoring the part of me that reminded me I was not supposed to be lying about my life issues just because of what people will say.



The day we renewed our vows, I wore a Blue Guinea Brocade Buba and Sokoto while Boye wore a Blue dress designed by some fancy designer. I had told her, I would like for us to wear the same outfits but she said matching outfits was so outdated, I didn’t argue.

Like I predicted the stories died a natural death especially after Femi granted an interview and he said everything he said about Omoboye was a lie and that she was a good woman and wife. Another good thing was the Oil tycoon Skipper got pregnant for agreed to marry her and she had become his fourth wife in an elaborate ceremony that had the whole of Lagos talking for weeks.

The morning of the renewal, Omoboye asked if it was still necessary considering; we were already doing things differently. We were talking more, laughing more and fighting less. I told Boye it was necessary that since we got married under false pretences, it was only right that we redo it in the proper way.



 I felt like a bride. At last I knew how my wedding day should have felt, I tried to laugh at the irony of it all. We had spent so much money on decor, food, outfits and still we had both felt like we were being sentenced. This was different however, I was all smiles as I got ready, this time there were no bridesmaids, no hair stylists or make up artists just myself and my husband.                                                                                   

“So baby, what are you planning to tell me today?” He asked.                                                                            “You will find out soon sir, shey we agreed we won’t tell each other before hand?”                                “I know Boye, I am just curious”. He said moving close to me.                                                              


I closed my eyes as he planted a kiss on my head. He wrapped his hands around me and I wrapped mine around him. We stayed that way for about five minutes rocking to a beat that existed only in our hearts.

Marriage is beautiful. I thought the smile on my face spreading wider.

Who would have thought that talking more and assuming less will be the secret to our happiness? One month and no drama, I intended to keep it that way. Those dark months must never come back. I said aloud.                                   

“They won’t if we don’t want them to baby.”                                                                                           “I know that now Jite.” 

Thirty minutes later, we were in the restaurant where our renewal party was scheduled to hold. I was glad to see the people there weren’t more than forty. I knew Jite would be pleased. Everyone there was family except for Boladale and her Mom.                                                       It was a day I will always remember; everything was perfect, the food, the decor, and our vows too.

Simple yet perfect.                                                                                                             

When it was time for our vows, Jite went first. With each word he said, a fresh tear fell. He said;                                                                                                                                                         Boye, with God’s help, I will always be your friend, champion, defender, protector, lover and confidant. I promise to never second guess you, I promise to always give you the benefit of doubt, I promise to never stay mad at you, I promise you my heart’s devotion, a smile to chase away every tear of sorrow, a love that’s ever true and growing, a hug and a kiss each day and a love devoid of suspicion and rancor. No matter what happens, I promise I will always love you, even when you grow old and wrinkled, with shaky legs and a toothless mouth, you will still be to me, the most beautiful woman on earth. Omoboye Olamide Ayomipe, I will love you till death.   

 I was still crying when he hugged and kissed me.   The claps and hoots was defeaning and out of the corner of my eye, I saw both our Moms hugging each other. They must have been worried for us, I realized; especially my Mom.                                                              

And then it was my turn, I asked Jite to sit down and then I knelt in front of him, holding his hand.                                                                                                                                                    Jite, I have asked God to help me to be the wife he wants me to be and I know he will. I am grateful for your love especially because I know I don’t deserve it. I have made silly mistakes and yet you always kept a space for me in your heart; for that I will always be grateful.

From today husband, I promise you a tongue that speaks good tidings and blessings, a heart that trusts, a heart that forgives all wrongs. I promise to obey you and love you with everything I have. I will always be your best friend and confidant, the one who has your back anytime, anyday. I promise you a home devoid of stress, rancor and bitterness. With all that I have, I Omoboyede will love you forever.                                                                         

He drew me up when I was done and kissed me whispering; “this dress is so beautiful, did I tell you that earlier?”                                                                        

“No, you didn’t.” I replied feigning hurt.                                                                                                 “Guess I will have to do penance for that later then. I am thinking I could help you take it off later, just to show how much I like it.”                                                                                           

“I will be looking forward to that.” I replied

Afterwards, our parents prayed for us and then it was time to eat. Bola had organised a band even though it wasn’t part of the plan but she said she decided that will be more fun and I agreed.                                                                                                                                               The strangest thing and which also turned out to be one of the highlights of the evening happened when I went over to Boladae to ask her if she had paid the band.

“Good afternoon Mummy, I am so glad you came.” I told her mum kneeling down to greet her.

“It’s my pleasure Boye, I am grateful to you for how you have supported Boladale through this pregnancy wahala and I am so happy to witness this beautiful ceremony.”

“Thank you ma, ire a kari.” I replied kneeling again.

“Rara o omo mi, you shouldn’t be kneeling down anyhow like this oo, it’s not a good thing given your condition.”        

“Mummy”! Boladale exclaimed. “You have started again.”

“Which condition?” I asked looking at Boladale

“Your baby.” Her Mom responded.

“Baby?” I asked glancing at my flat stomach.

Boladale sighed. “Boye, my Mom has this strange almost psychic ability to detect pregnancies. She even claims to know day old pregnancies. I have always told her it’s embarrassing and that she should try to keep it to herself but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh, really.” I asked looking at her Mom. “But Mummy, I am not pregnant.”

“You are Boye, you are carrying my dear.” Her Mom replied drawing me up.

“See ehn, Boye. I am sorry about your one year no pregnancy thingy but if Mom says you are pregnant; then you are.” I smiled at her words and quickly changed the topic. But all through, I was bubbling with excitement and praying she was right.

For two months, I had not thought of pregnancy, I had just focused on loving my husband and I prayed that Boladale’s Mom was right; I didn’t want to be reminded of pregnancy only for it not to exist.



My eyes never left Boye as she moved around the room and I watched as she left Boladale’s seat and walked back towards me.

My wife forever. I thought as she sat beside me.

“How is my bride doing?” I asked

“She is confused.”


“Something Boladale’s Mom said.”

“What is that?”

“She said I am pregnant and Boladale said she is one of those people who can see even a day old pregnancy.”

“She may be right.”

“You can tell when someone is a few weeks pregnant too?”

“No. It’s just that I can tell when you have not been menstruating. You haven’t done it for two months now.”

“And you didn’t tell me.” I replied rubbing my stomach.

“I didn’t want you thinking about it yet. I was too glad to notice you were over that obsession.”

“Oh, Jite, you are so going to pay. When is this show ending so we can go home and I can start my revenge?”

“Not before we dance baby. Everyone has been waiting for that.”

“Then let’s dance.”

We walked to the platform and started dancing to Boye’s favorite song – From this moment on by Shania Twain.

We had danced to it at the wedding too but this time it was different.

“Errr, wifey, your revenge might be delayed a bit; our mothers want us to come over for dinner, it’s holding at your parents’ place. They said they want to celebrate us.”

“Who says it will be delayed, you have forgotten the mind blowing sex we had the last time we were at my parents’?”

“How can I ever forget?” I replied kissing her.

Not So Happily Married….Episode Thirteen





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No, I didn’t hear right. Boye is going to burst into laughter anytime now and spit in this liar’s face. I thought, glancing at Omoboye.

My face fell and I felt tears spring to my face at the look on her face. She looked ashamed, trapped, like she wished she could disappear.

“Is it true?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, she just darted furtive glances around the room.

Femi was sitting up, one hand was held to his bleeding lip, he looked smug, his eyes shone with mirth. The room was quiet; they must all be waiting for Boye’s response. I thought.

I looked at her too and shook my head at the way she pleaded with her eyes.

So she wants me to cover her shame and do this in private? Oh, well. I shrugged. I can do that as long as she explains. But I made a decision there and then. If it was true, then it would be the last issue we would have. I was going to walk out of the marriage.

I grabbed her hand and made for the elevator. She followed crying. Several whispers and chuckles trailed us as we walked out and at that moment I wanted to cry.

Why did I marry this woman?

I must have said it aloud because she increased the tempo of her cries.


This is it. Jite will divorce me. There is just no way around it. No sane man will want me after this. Yeah, this man loves me but seriously how much more can he take?

I sobbed as the elevator went up but started wailing when I heard him say “Why did I marry this woman”

He had never said that. At least I never heard him say it. Not even when we were neck deep in the abortion issue.

I wiped my tears when we entered the room. It was time to talk. I had no choice; my best kept secret was finally going to come out.

“Now start from the beginning and don’t hold anything back this time.” He said.

“Okay Jite. I promise I will tell you all.”

“Look at you. You know I really want to hate you now. I thought you were a Queen, I treated you like one, I thought you were decent.” He paused and I saw tears cascade down his cheeks.

My heart broke at his tears.  He doesn’t cry. He had told me severally that only weak men cry and that he was a real man who knew how to keep his tear ducts dry and grieve without wasting body fluids. Here he was, crying.

He sobbed for over three minutes and I engaged myself in a debate trying to decide on what to do.

Boye, move close to him, console him. Oh no. I can’t do that. This man is mad enough to slap me if I do.

Okay. Tell him you are sorry. Tell him what happened, that it wasn’t intentional and why you never told him. That won’t solve anything; it will sound like bull shit to him.

So what do you want to do? Allow him to finish crying and tell you to expect his lawyer?

No. Start crying too.

That was the option I took. Why didn’t I think of that earlier, why did I stop crying? Of course that’s the thing to do. Join him in the sobbing.

And so I started sobbing too. They were not fake tears; I was feeling real pain, pain that the nightmare was starting all over again, pain that I was making my husband hurt so bad, pain at the stories that were bound to show up in blogs and newspapers, pain that my life was totally out of my control.

My weeping got louder as images of what Femi referred to flashed across my eyes. Wounds I thought were healed reopened making my heart bleed the more.

I was licking my lips, kneading my breasts with one hand while rubbing my hair with the other. A recurring laughter resounded in my ears and when I wasn’t licking my lips, I was laughing too and then I was crying out from pleasure, sinking my fingers into his collar bone and tightening my thighs around his waist. Femi’s eyes was shuttered, his mouth open, strangled noises coming out of his mouth, and then suddenly we were both quiet, the laughter stopped, the moaning stopped, the silence was marred only by the splat splat sound of skin knocking against skin and then the sound of Femi’s cry as he came mixing with the farts that came out of me in succession. The combination was almost musical and made our lone audience to start laughing again.

“Omoboye, what is wrong with you? Are you fine?”

I heard his voice from somewhere far. I opened my eyes and felt him touching my fore head.

“Boye, what is it? What were you thinking of that made your eyes look like that?”

“I am fine.” I murmured looking into his eyes.

“You are not, you looked like you were about to pass out, like something was torturing your mind.”

“I want to forget it. I am not sure I am strong enough to talk about it yet.” I said

“You can forget about it after you have told me. I won’t let you hide whatever it is from me again.”

“What happened between you and Femi?”

“What did he do to you?”

“Jite, please I want to forget.” I said, placing my hands on his shoulder. “Help me forget, love me, I need to shake these images off. Please replace them. You may walk away after that. I won’t blame you, but please help shake these images off.”


“No Boye. Snap out of this. Calm down and talk to me. What happened?”

“Give me a minute”; she said rushing to the bathroom. I heard her retching and debated whether to go in and check on her.

What’s wrong with her? Guilt? No. There had been something else in her eyes, fear? Pain? Regret? shame? anguish? …. and the way tears had been cascading down her face, the way her eyes had been wide open but unseeing …..was she acting? Is she even now composing a lie to tell me? No, that can’t be. Omoboye isn’t capable of that. Or is she?

“I am ready.” She announced when she entered the room.

She sat on the bed facing me and I couldn’t help noticing how pale her face was.

No, she is not acting. I decided. She has something to tell me and it would be the truth.


“What I am about to tell you is something I have always liked to think was a dream. I can’t even explain how I was able to convince myself that it was; I just know I push it back into the recesses of my mind every time I think of it.”

“Boye, quit the drama and say what you have to say.” He said, I could sense he was impatient and getting irritated too.

I nodded, then yanked the blanket off the bed and covered my body with it.

“Remember Dapo?”

“Your ex boyfriend. What about him?”

“Okay. It happened when I was dating him.”


“What I am about to tell you.”

“What are you about to tell me and how does it have anything to do with Dapo?”

“I will get to that. Please Jite, just allow me to explain. The only way I can explain it is by starting from the beginning.”

“Take your time then. I am all ears.”

“It was his birthday. That was July 5, 2004. We had just made up having recently broken up as we used to do every other month. This time, it had been because he cheated on me with one of my cousins. I had been determined that I wasn’t going to have anything to do with him again but he managed to change my mind. He told me, I was his conscience and his life would be destroyed without me. I felt like his messiah and so I accepted him back.”

“It was a small party; just a few friends and colleagues. I played the role of the supportive girlfriend; ensuring the guests ate to their satisfaction and that everything went on fine. Dapo had told me he wanted Femi to cover the event. Even then, Femi was quite expensive but I managed to convince him to do it as a favor for me.”

 “I was supposed to spend the night with him so I was still there when everyone started leaving. Femi wanted to leave when the party thinned out but Dapo said no, that he wanted him to do a photo shoot for us. I was excited and even thought that perhaps he was planning to propose.”

“I was naive and stupid.” I added in a low tone. I wasn’t looking at Jite’s face despite the fact that I could feel his on mine. I didn’t want to see what I was sure would be there. Disgust.

“So?” He asked, prompting me to continue.

“So we did the photo shoot. It was fun; Dapo was at his very best, attentive and very loving. I was in high spirits too still hopeful that a proposal was in the works. After the shoot, he brought out a bottle of wine, said it was the best and that he saved it for both of us but he would however love for Femi to join us. He poured a glass for the three of us and we took the drinks.”

“I didn’t know I was drugged, I just realized that after a while Femi and I got cuddly with Dapo encouraging us. I even remember asking Dapo if he wasn’t going to be annoyed if I kissed Femi and he replied me saying. “Why would I? I would love to see that”

Although I wasn’t looking at Jite, I could feel him perspiring.

“And then I kissed Femi, the rest is still a blur or maybe it feels like that because I always prevent my mind from thinking about it, I just remember I was acting like I was drunk only it was worse than being drunk, I was not in control of me, I was wanton, pushing myself against Femi and strange thing, he was responding too.”

“Stop. Boye. Please stop. That’s enough.”


I couldn’t listen anymore, yet I wanted to listen.

Who did I marry?

How come she had this sort of history and I never even had a clue. How did she manage to not mention this?

I wanted to cry, she wasn’t done but my mind knew whatever she still had to to say was going to hurt me more than what she had already said. I wanted to save myself the agony but still I felt like I needed to know everything.

She looked pale, sick even. I know whatever it was that she went through must have been traumatic but I needed to hear more. She shivered occasionally despite the fact that she was covered with a blanket and yet was sweating as much as I was.

“Continue, I need to hear more.”


“Somehow we started having sex.”

“You and who?”

“Myself and Femi. I didn’t know what I was doing; I just knew I was enjoying it. It was as if I stood and was watching my own body do those things. At that moment it felt like the only thing I ever wanted to do and not even seeing Dapo sitting on an arm chair laughing and blowing on his cigarette changed my mood. He was there throughout and even cheered us on at some point and then when Femi was done, he took over.”

“Oh my God! No.” Jite screamed standing up for the first time since he entered the room.

“Those bastards, did you report to the police? Of course, you didn’t. Why am I asking? But why Boye, why didn’t you lodge a complaint? Was it because you enjoyed it? Ehn.?”

“Ehn, was it because you enjoyed it?” He repeated shaking me with his hands. His touch was painful but that wasn’t what made me cry, I cried because I could see my marriage crumble before my eyes.

“Stop it Jite. You think I stood a chance? Do you think I even wanted to go through the trauma of letting everyone know what happened? It wasn’t until later that I even knew I had been drugged and it wasn’t just me. Femi too.”

“The next morning, Dapo sat us down and laughing at the bewildered look on our faces told us he drugged us both with Ecstasy and when I asked why, he said something that haunts me to this day.”

“You are too good for your own good Omoboye. You need to do bad from time to time. I hate your sanctimonious guts, I always have.”

That wasn’t all, he said he hated that I always made him feel so guilty for cheating on me and for not being a good boyfriend and that I always reminded him of the sacrifices I made for him and how he was my first and only.

He said:

“Boye, I needed to spoil you, At least now, you can’t say I am the only one you have slept with anymore.  I needed to make you have something on your conscience too”. He said he tried to push me into cheating too but I was too wrapped up in self righteousness to even cheat if only for revenge.”

“And then, he apologized to Femi saying he was just an unfortunate pawn. You needed to be there Jite to see the smug look on his face, to see the……”

My voice broke at that point and for the first time in six years I allowed myself to relive and mourn those moments.


I wanted to commit murder. Any resentment I felt towards Omoboye was gone replaced with a fierce sense of protectiveness.

“Boye, why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”

“How could I? I needed you to see me as me not as a victim of abuse. I needed you to love me, I wasn’t sure you would still love me if you knew all that happened. Besides the closer we got, the harder it was to tell.”

“Was Femi aware of his plans?”

“No, he was a victim like me. Dapo likes playing silly games just for the fun of it. He wanted to make me pay for always making him look like the bad guy and for leaving him so he wooed me back with the intention of punishing me.”

“I am going to kill the bastard.”

“God forbid. You won’t be a killer.”

“No, I am not a killer but he is going to die. I swear by my late father’s head. He is a dead man.”

“No, Jite please don’t say that. I have left him to God. All that matters to me right now is that you are not so angry with me anymore.”

“God, I can’t believe you went through something like this. But why will that idiot say that about you knowing what happened was not something you did in your right senses, which brings me to another question, why did you continue to work with him?”

“I really don’t know why Femi has been the way he is since we got here but I think he said what he said because he wanted to hurt me for telling you and he probably was jealous that we were still cool with each other in spite of the fact that I told you.”

“I guess.” Jite replied, shrugging.

“As to working with Femi, I didn’t really have a choice. As you know after we did the beauty magic competition in which our pieces were both chosen, one of the terms of the prize and our contract was that we had to work together whenever beauty magic had their beauty pageants/fashion shows which is every two months. So basically despite what happened I knew I was stuck with him for the five years of our contract but I could have cut ties with him after that but somehow we got past it and managed to keep up a professional relationship. He never acted inappropriately; we never even talk about it as he had been mortified about it as well.”

“But he must have been nursing some feelings for you. It’s the only explanation for what he did tonight. Anyway, I want you to enter the bathroom now and take a shower. Rest well because we will be leaving for Lagos very early tomorrow morning. There is a business I need to take care of.”

Perhaps, it was something about the way he said the “there is a business I need to take care of”. I just knew it had something to do with Dapo. I didn’t say anything, I just resolved to stay close to him and ensure he does nothing stupid.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was still sitting in the same spot, staring ahead.

“He is the one who impregnated Boladale”. I said before I could stop myself.

 “He basically used that girl too, looking back now I am thinking he might have even used Ecstacy on her too.” I added wondering why it never occurred to me before.

“Tell me what he did to her. Everything.”

When I was done, he said;

“Another reason for the bastard to die.”

PS: Should we kukuma allow Dapo to die?

photo credit:google images

Not So Happily Married ……. Episode Twelve


click here to read previous episodes of NSHM

I could almost hear my heart beat in my chest. How long had he been standing there? He couldn’t have seen anything, could he? If he had seen us, he wouldn’t stand here with that needy look on his face.

Oh God, what is wrong with me? Why am I not rushing into his arms, kissing him and telling him how much I wanted us to settle our issues?

“Boye, please be rational.” I heard him say.  My vision blurred at his words, my eyes clouded with unshed tears.

What have I become? I thought, leaning against a door. Why am I so confused, so disoriented?

“Boye”. I heard him call. He was close to me now,  the scent of his body spray teasing my nostrils.

“Things are not the way you think they are, that’s why I am here, to end this anguish for us both.”

“Did you have to come? You didn’t have to.”

“Errrm”  Someone cleared his throat. It was Femi. I had forgotten he was there. Jite and I glanced at him.

“Boye, I will be going downstairs to join the others. I think you should talk to your husband but if you are bent on throwing him out, I will be here. That’s a joke.” he added at Jite’s startled look.

I watched him leave, his words echoing in my head. “If you are bent on throwing him out, I will be here”

Is that what I have been doing? Throwing him out? Does Femi now say such things to me?

“Let’s find somewhere to sit Boye.”

I led the way to my room and he followed.


I am not a saint. Omoboye’s behavior was infuriating me and I wanted to do what my head was telling me. Turn back and look for an ATM machine to withdraw money from.

But I felt I had to do the best that I can to salvage our marriage. Heck! We hadn’t even done six months and we already looked and sounded like a marriage counselor’s nightmare.

I followed her to her room thinking of Femi’s remark. What did he mean by he was there for her? Was he planning to take advantage of Boye? I felt my fists clench at the thought. Would he dare? They were friends, they work together. That was all I knew, so what was that comment about? I didn’t want to dwell on such unpleasant things and decided to focus on Boye and the things we need to discuss.

I took in the room, “great place.” I said just to break the silence.


“The whole place is so peaceful and quiet.”


Okay, this is going nowhere. I thought.

“Omoboye, let’s talk.”


“First thing, I am sorry for not telling you about Skipper. I will like to do that now.”

“Not yet Jite.” She said.

“I am going to faint if I don’t say what’s on my mind now. I feel so guilty and dirty. I just have to say it.”

My heart constricted at her words. I swallowed the saliva that instantly pooled in my mouth, my hands shook in dread. She feels guilty and dirty, she feels guilty and dirty…….why would she feel guilty and dirty? I felt a faint headache starting as I said the words over and over in my head


If we were going to talk, we might as well bare it all. I had made up my mind I was going to open up to him only that the decision was easier to make when he wasn’t there, seeing him face to face , it was hard to talk.

But still, things had to change and there was never going to be a good time. He needed to hear everything and then he could decide if he still wanted me.

“Jite” I began pausing as I saw the fear on his face.

Oh my God, he knows already and it scares him. But I felt compelled to say it.

“Jite, Femi touched me.”

“Oh Lord”. He whimpered burying his head in his palms.

“It wasn’t a touch touch like that. It’s not what you think.”


“So what kind of touch was it?” I asked raising my head up.

“I was upset, I was crying and then he was trying to comfort me.”

“In the room?”

“No, Jite, we were outside, just by the door. I didn’t even plan to cry, the tears just started flowing when he asked why I was without make up and if I was having problems with my husband.”

“He was hugging me, consoling me and then he placed his hands on my bum.”

She paused.


“And nothing Jite, nothing. I stood there, I didn’t flinch, I didn’t remove his hands, I didn’t say he should remove it, I did nothing, not for several minutes and that’s why I hate myself so much right now. How could I stand there and do nothing? I have always imagined myself as the kind of girl that took no nonsense, as the type nobody except my husband could touch. But Jite, I let Femi touch me. I don’t know who I am again. I find it hard to recognize me.”

I said nothing. I just stared into space for several seconds.

“So where were you going ?” I asked

“He said there was this sightseeing organized by some of the guests. He wanted us to go too.”

“I see.”

“What else were you going to just stand there and let him do?”

“Nothing. I swear. He offered to take me back inside the room so we can talk but I said no.”

“The bastard.” I said through clenched teeth.

So Femi is one of those people I have heard about all my life. The Lizards who stand around waiting for cracks in a marriage’s walls so they can sneak in, and to think my wife just stood there and allowed another man touch her backside. My own property, the one I was supposed to be the only one that ever touched.

Easy Jite, don’t be too hard on her, remember why you are really here and be grateful that it didn’t get worse than that and above all be thankful that she told you.

“Anyway, I am grateful that you told me this Boye”. I said placing a hand on her exposed knee.

“I know you very well or at least I think I do. I know you are not the wayward type and I will like to believe that you won’t cheat on me. So I am not going to dwell on what happened between you and Femi. All I will say is you won’t be working with him ever again. I think as your husband. I can still say that right? I am still your husband or aren’t I?”


“Yes Jite. You are my husband.” I said warmth filling me and removing some of the guilt that I felt.

I don’t know if it was the hand that he placed on my knee or hearing myself call him husband but I was suddenly so aware of him. I smiled at him, my heart open and ready to make peace as my mind visualized a night of passion.

“Alright then Boye, so we are done with that. Now to the Skipper issue, I am sorry I didn’t tell you about her.”

“Did you read the note I gave you in your Mum’s house?”

“I don’t think I did. I didn’t. I hope I have not misplaced it though because I can’t even remember where I placed it.”

“Don’t sweat it. What I wrote there was that Bisade is not pregnant for me and that I am sorry once again about what happened with her. Right now, I am hoping you would forgive me totally. I know you still harbor hurt in your heart and that’s why you can’t trust me. I can’t blame you too much. It’s only human but Boye, we need trust if this is going to work. We can’t keep doing this or we would have to dissolve this marriage.”

“God forbid. Anyway, God will only forbid if Skipper’s pregnancy is not yours.” I added searching his face.

“No baby. I dated Skipper years ago. I am sorry I didn’t tell you about her, she was someone I wanted to forget. It was a turbulent relationship, she was not only a sex addict, she also had Borderline personality disorder, she was clingy, controlling too. It was more than I could handle. I just wanted to forget that one year of my life.

“Yet, you kept her pictures…”.

“I know it’s crazy to keep them, but I am the kind of person who finds it hard to trash pictures, messages or any other thing that connects me to someone. Even if I have forgotten that they exist.”

“So where did you meet her? School?”

“During NYSC.”

“Oh!….so she is the weirdo you once mentioned that you dated during service. The one you said got a nick name that had to do with a skipping rope just because she had an uncanny ability to skip classes and still pass.”

“The very one.”

“Oh! Oh my God!” I covered my mouth as the pieces fell into place.

“So that was why I thought the name was familiar.”

“You know she called the morning after we made love all night. That was back in Zanzibar. You were sleeping and you asked me to check who was calling you. I did and I saw Skipper and felt the name sounded familiar. Somehow I saw a text she sent to you where she said she loved you and had something to discuss with you, something that was very urgent. I decided to assume that it was Bisade’s name that you stored as Skipper.”

“Are you serious? So that’s why your behavior changed; I kept worrying about what it could be. Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t. I also deleted the message and the call record and I felt ashamed afterwards and couldn’t tell you because of that.”

“You see why we need to talk to each other. To think you were obsessing over someone that means nothing to me.”

“Jite, you know this is so funny.” I said putting a hand to my mouth to suppress laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“As in I am a joke. I kept looking for flaws in her; a pimple, darkened knees or something and yet she had all of these issues and looking at her you wouldn’t know.”

“Yes, you wouldn’t. At least not until she opens her mouth.”


She was smiling. I felt all the tension in me ebb away. I stood up from the couch, pulled her up and embraced her.

“Jite, hold on.” She said sighing.

“We are not done”.

“Okay. What else is on your mind?”

“I think I may never be able to conceive.”

“And why would you think that?”

“It’s just a gut feeling that I have. Besides I have had enough time to take in since we got married.”

“Relax Omoboye. No need to worry. I want children, I am not going to pretend that I don’t but the fact remains that I want you more than I want children so not having them won’t change what I feel for you. It was part of the things I wrote in that note. Children or not, I will still love you. Worst case scenario, we will adopt children. I keep thinking that there are several children out there praying to God for a mummy and daddy, we could be the answer to their prayers especially if we can’t have ours.”

“Jite….hmmmm….are you sure? Because all these things are easier said than done ooo especially since we both know this is my fault. ”

“Shhh, Boye. Don’t go into that”

“You see. It still hurts you to think about it, so you are pushing the thoughts away.”

“No Boye. You are not entirely right. True, it hurts that we might have been parents by now but I am willing to let go of all of that and see what the future holds.”

“Jite, I just hope that future holds something positive because Mum promised to make my life a living hell if I don’t have a protruding stomach or a baby by our anniversary.”

I laughed out at her words.

“Are you for real?”.                                                                                                                             

“Yes , she said plenty things o about how she will make sure the whole world knows what I did and how my life will be miserable. Really scary things o”

“There is no problem baby. Your mum can’t cry more than the bereaved. Besides who says anything is wrong with you. It’s still early days Boye. We haven’t even been married six months yet. I need you to get over the paranoia and just relax or we could go for a test just to know if everything is okay.”

“Why does that sound so scary Jite?”

“Don’t be scared. Like I said earlier, I will still love you, Children or no Children”.

“Oh Jite, I don’t deserve you.” She said sitting on my laps and wrapping her arms around my neck.

“No, baby. I think we deserve each other. We are both crazy”.


“I think I am the crazier one here Jite.” I said pressing against him.

“Well, since you insist, I  have to agree that you are the crazier one.”

“Something about us is odd, Jite. I feel like we always do this and then we go back to our quarrels.”

“You mean we always make up somewhere out of our own house and then not long after something else happens that takes us back to where we started.”


“So what do you suggest? That we stop making up?”

“I don’t know Jite. I am just tired of our wahala.” She said frowning.

I laughed at her words and tickled her ribs till she joined in the laughter.

“I have a suggestion.” I said when we stopped laughing.

“I think we should do a vow renewal.”

“No. Jite. That’s a no no. Vow renewal when our marriage is not even up to a year?”

“It doesn’t matter; even if it’s two days into marriage. What matters is we know why we want to do it. You and I know our wedding day vows weren’t exactly heartfelt. We know our wedding was just a show for our guests.”

“You are right though. So the vow renewal will be like the one where we say our heartfelt vows right? I think I like the idea.”

“I knew you would. We will organize something small, invite some of our friends and do it. No priests, no dressing up, just two souls baring their hearts to one another.”

“Won’t our friends suspect that something is wrong with our marriage?”

“Do you care if they do? Boye, we need to start paying less attention to what people think. Let them think what they will so long as we are happy.”

“Okay then. But I don’t agree with the no dressing up thing oo. Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well and so we are going to make it a grand party”.

“Seriously, Omoboye, I want  a small party.”

“Leave story jare husband and kiss me. Kiss me like your very life depends on it, then I want you to make love to me, do it like I am this bad girl that you want to set straight, like you want to punish me for all the stress I have been putting you through.”

“You have been watching porn?” I asked before shutting her up with my mouth.


Sometimes you think you know what your husband can or can’t do and then he shocks you by doing the unexpected.

The time for Dinner came and we went down. We were all over each other, basking in the afterglow of great sex. I made sure we sat at a table far apart from everyone else. I wanted to avoid Femi as much as I could and hoped that he would do the same.

For a long time, we ate our dinner in relative seclusion. We were undisturbed save for the occasional one or two people who came around to chat with us. Femi was the last person I wanted to see, I still felt some shame for allowing him to touch me the way he did  and so I was very uncomfortable when he walked up to our table.

“Hello Mr&Mrs, you guys seem cozy; everything cool in conjugal land now?”

And then Jite spoke through clenched teeth.

“Femi, excuse us please.”

“Sorry to bother you. I was only being nice.”

Femi looked sincere as he spoke and I could have been fooled if I hadn’t recognized the mischievous glint in his eyes. Jite wasn’t impressed either.

“Thank you Femi, we appreciate your niceness. Now excuse us.”

“What’s with the attitude? Is it my fault that you guys are having problems?”

He said that aloud and my eyes darted around the room desperate to see if anyone was taking notice. They were; several pairs of eyes were trained on our table.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Jite replied. “But let me warn you, the next time you as much as lay a finger on my wife, you would wish you were never born.”

I fixed my eyes on Jite, my heart doing flip flops. I had never seen him that angry. His fists were clenched, there was saliva hanging at the far end corners of his mouth.

“Jite, please ignore him.” I pleaded. “Let’s not cause a scene.”

“Baby, stay out of this.”

“Wow, wow! Such honesty amongst couples. This is so cute.” Femi said.

“But Omoboye seriously? I can’t believe you told him about our small adventure this afternoon. Makes me wonder if you also told him about how I use to ram you so hard, you farted for …….”

He didn’t finish the sentence before Jite’s fist shut him up.

I was mortified. I wanted the ground to open and swallow me up. I still don’t know the one that affected me most; the shocked look on the faces of the other diners, the damage that Jite’s fist did to Femi’s mouth, the clicks of cameras as  pictures were taken or the look of excruciating pain on Jite’s face as he turned towards me.

P S: Ladies, do you think Boye should have told Jite about the bom bom incident? Do you think she would have been better off not talking?

 I find it hard to make up my mind on whether it’s better to hold back some things or spill all .

Not So Happily Married ….. Episode Eleven



I never speed while driving, it’s a personal decision. I had vowed to myself after my father lost his life in a motor accident that nothing will make me speed or drive rough. But that afternoon, I ignored my vows and drove like someone who was being chased. I wanted to meet my wife at home if that was where she went to.

I would have been on time if not because I had decided to obey the traffic light on the highway just before my estate. I was driving in through one gate when I saw Femi’s car drive out of the other.

I parked, ran out and started yelling my wife’s name. There was no way she would hear but yelling made me feel better.

So she is going to Calabar. I thought. She had told me about the event earlier but had said she wasn’t interested in going.  I didn’t need to wonder what made her change her mind; I just didn’t understand how she could be so irrational.

Another woman would stay to ask questions, get angry or throw tantrums. Why do you always abandon me instead Boye? I muttered.

I decided to try her number again. I waited for it to ring, I willed it to ring, I begged it to not give the same not reachable message I had been getting while driving down but it wasn’t my lucky day.

“I have to go to Calabar too.” I decided

“Okay, relax first Jite.” I told myself. “Why on earth will you want to go to Calabar? For what na?”

“What will I be doing here? My life is going to be empty without Omoboye. The fact that we might not even talk throughout her stay there will only make me more miserable.”

“Oh my God, you sound pathetic.” I chided myself

“Is this what marriage does to people. Does marriage make an adult male so dependent, so wimpish or is it just that I have a problem?”

“Why did I get married, why did I marry Omoboye? Is this what the rest of my life will be like?

“Things do not have to remain this way” I said continuing my soliloquy.  “You are the man here. You can take charge. You need to make her know she can’t just walk out on you whenever she feels like it. Go to your house, take a bath, go out with your friends, go clubbing, do whatever. Just have fun. When she comes back, don’t allow her in until she begs. In fact pack her bags for her, let her meet them in the hallway.”

I laughed at my own words thinking one of my ancestors must have taken over my mind for a minute. Throw her bags out? Who does that these days?

Here is what you will do. I will swallow my pride and take the next available flight to Calabar. I will go to my wife, sit her down and force her to say everything on her mind.

With that, I started the car.



I saw his car when we were driving out, I could have told Femi to stop the car. I think I wanted to only I didn’t. I knew I could quit the drama and demand explanations but I was growing fond of taking time apart when we have issues. It seemed like an easier way. 

Femi and I got to Tinapa late in the afternoon. Our flight which should have been for 12 P.M was delayed for an extra two hours for reasons we were left to imagine.

It wasn’t my first time in Tinapa but still I mouthed a “wow” upon entering the resort. My room overlooked the Sea and I thought of how much more beautiful it would be if Jite were around. Funny how I always think of him when I am having a good time. I thought.IMG-20120215-00573

The event slated for that day was over by the time we got there but we were still able to meet up with some key people in the industry. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, I just kept thinking of my husband. Why did I even leave Lagos? I wondered. Why didn’t I just talk to Jite?

It’s still Jite ooo, the guy that forgave me for killing his baby. Why didn’t I just hear him out? Who knows, maybe Skipper’s baby is not even his after all.

That would be nice to know wouldn’t it? I didn’t want to think of Skipper’s pregnancy because it only reminded me of my own failure to take in. Several thoughts had been running at the back of my mind; thoughts that perhaps I had damaged my womb. It even crossed my mind that perhaps, I was destined to have one child and I had wasted my only chance. I had Nollywood and the movies where they try to make us believe there was one place where you choose the number of children you would have to thank for that. But I kept pushing the negative thoughts back.

I think I should call him. I decided switching on my phone.



There are days when it would seem like everything on earth conspired to make your life miserable. That day was one of such. I needed cash; I had more than I needed in my account only I couldn’t access my money. Every ATM that I checked had the same story to tell. “Issuer or switch inoperative” From the little I know, I understood it could only mean there was a problem with my bank’s network. I also knew things could remain that way for the rest of the day but still I had to go to Calabar. I had 5000 naira on me and I was sure there was no way I could get to Calabar with that. I thought of driving to my Mum’s place for help but decided I had to solve the problem on my own.

I drove back to the house confident that there would be some money lying around. Omoboye is a cash person, she doesn’t believe in using her ATM card although she has one. She believes that having cash at hand was still the most reliable way.

I checked the places where I knew she kept money and was glad to find an envelope which contained 15000 naira. It wasn’t much but at least I was sure of having enough to take a flight down. I told myself it was risky to depend on the fact that Omoboye would be there and I could share her hotel room.

Her phone has been switched off for a long time now, what if she intends to leave it that way? What if you can’t get through, where will you sleep?

The University of Calabar’s campus, the hotel lobby, the airport….anywhere. I replied myself with false confidence.




The text message from Boladale came in while I was trying to call Jite. She said something about how she finally found the courage to tell the father of her baby (my ex) that she was pregnant and that she had given him an ultimatum of seven days to tell his wife or she would. She ended the text message with “wish me luck babe”.

I did wish her luck only it was the negative type. Who is this new Boladale? I thought wondering how I didn’t know what she was capable of. Why would she want him to tell her? What does she hope to achieve?

But isn’t it better that she knows? A tiny voice whispered in my head

Is it? I replied myself wondering if I would want to know. It was easy to put myself in the shoes of my ex’s wife. I believed I was going through something similar too.

Do I really want to know If Skipper’s pregnancy is for Jite? I knew the answer was NO, a part of me would rather not hear the truth and I knew that was why I ran. I was afraid of hearing that he was responsible after all.

But you can’t run forever Boye; sooner or later you will have to face these issues.

I knew that and some part of me was ready to talk to Jite but his phone stayed unavailable.



I thought of Skipper all through the flight. What game is she playing? She is pregnant but still won’t leave me alone. What on earth does she want? I kept sighing. I was restless and uncomfortable despite the fact that the flight was a smooth one.

I thought of sending her a text message that read

 “Samantha Nkiruka Ofure Ismail, what do you want from me?”

 She was a contradiction just like her name. Born to an Edo/Igbo mother and a Fulani father, she had also been exposed to all three cultures. As with her physical beauty, that should have meant a beautiful character and mind but for the fact that something had twisted her. Sometimes I would wonder if it was because she had been raped by their house help when she was Eleven, other times I would think that perhaps it was because she had once been in an abusive relationship that lasted several years but most of the time I would conclude that it was most likely a combination of the two. Her parents had refused to prosecute the boy claiming their decision was to protect her; she had never forgiven them or herself for it. The boyfriend, a cultist did not only abuse her body and mind, he also made her participate in their initiation orgies.

After hearing about all she went through, it had been easy to understand why she was so addicted to sex and why despite having a gorgeous body, she had no respect for it. I did feel sorry for her and on some level wanted to help her heal but I knew I wasn’t that man. I didn’t have the patience and neither did I love her enough

I ruminated on her pregnancy thinking perhaps if the father of the baby decides to accept her she would leave me alone. I had not been too surprised when she had told me on her third call that she was pregnant and who she was pregnant for. She claimed the baby’s father wasn’t ready to accept her pregnancy and she didn’t care if he did or did not. I knew that was a lie, she had always been searching for acceptance and love. I could sense that not getting it was the reason she was bent in making my own life miserable.

Perhaps she thinks if she couldn’t be happy, I shouldn’t be also. But that was strange too. I thought of another text message I could send her but I knew I wouldn’t dare. I thought of saying. “Skipper, why don’t you just hunt the guys that messed up your life and ruin theirs? Why don’t you just leave me and my wife the hell alone?”



Femi called at 5pm that day that dinner was at 8.00pm and that he had arranged with some other guys for us to go sightseeing by 5.30pm. I wasn’t interested in anything and had even started contemplating leaving for Lagos early the next morning.  I asked him where we would be going and he mentioned the Calabar slave museum, the sea port and that we were also going to take a boat ride.  They all sounded exciting especially the slave museum part. I had once been told that it would blow my mind. Although I didn’t feel like doing anything at all; I told him I would be ready.

All I wanted to do was put the lights off and bury my head in a pillow. The room was perfect for such, with the lush furniture and the magnificent ambience; I could enjoy being depressed there only I was sure it was designed for happy things. I could imagine it as a love nest and that made me miss Jite more. Tomorrow morning I will be out of here. I decided. I need to talk to my husband about everything; my fears that I couldn’t trust him ever, my fears that I might be infertile.



I got to Tinapa around 5.15pm, I was scared for myself. I had just 5000 naira left on me. I knew there was no way I would get a hotel that cheap in the resort. Omoboye’s line was still not going. I didn’t know the name of the program she came for but I trudged on hoping that there won’t be so many things going on in the resort. It was deserted in a way that I liked. I had expected it to be busy and was pleased that it wasn’t, not only because it would make it easier to find Omoboye but also because it made it my ideal place for a vacation. Refreshing view of nature, clean fresh air just what I believe every Lagosian needed from time to time.

I asked for directions and was pointed in the way of the hotel where the participants of the beauty products exhibition were lodged. I summoned courage and walked up to the front desk.

“Hello madam.” I said ensuring that I sounded confident.

“Hello, you are welcome.” She said smiling. Good customer service. I filed that away as another reason to come on vacation later.

“Thank you lady. Errrm, my wife is here and I can’t get through to her right now. Her number is not reachable. We came to Calabar together but I had to take care of some business in town first. You see she is part of the beauty products exhibition thing and I decided to accompany her thinking we should make this a weekend getaway of some sort. The thing now is I need to know the room where she is.”

“I am sorry I can’t give you that information. It’s against our regulations. I would love to help in any other way. You could sit at the reception and keep trying her number.

I murmured thanks and proceeded to the reception. I made myself busy with the magazines there and also kept looking out for anybody who might know Omoboye.

“Hello there, aren’t you Omoboye’s husband? She didn’t say you were around. I also came in with my hubby. It’s our first time being in Calabar.”

Excited, I stood up to greet the speaker. I couldn’t remember her but was sure I must have met her somewhere. All that was unimportant, what mattered was someone knew who I was and had seen Omoboye.

“Quite a long time.” I replied smiling and giving her a warm hand shake.

“We didn’t actually come in together; I took another flight because I had to take care of some things before leaving Lagos.”

“Oh okay.”

“I am so happy to see you. I am in a fix here. My wife’s phone line is not going through and I don’t know what room she is in.”

“Oh, that is not a problem at all.  I can get that for you. I am in charge of logistics so I have a schedule of where everybody is. Let’s see.” She added opening the folder in her hands. “Your wife is on the fourth floor. Room 40B. “

“Thank you so very much ma. I am grateful.”

“It’s Sholape. I guess you’ve forgotten the name. You came along with Boye to our anniversary party last December and I was at your wedding too.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I am very poor at remembering names and faces.”

“It’s no problem sir.”

“Thank you very much.” I said taking brisk steps towards the elevator.



It was 5.25pm. I was ready, I expected Femi to knock any minute. I sat in the darkened room running my palms over my dress. The dress I wore was something I wouldn’t have worn to an outing back home not to talk of an outing with the top shots in the beauty industry. Do I have to go? I wondered. Yes you have to. You have to leave this darkness and have some fun.

I opened the door immediately Femi knocked.

“No makeup?” He asked the moment he saw me walk out.

“Yes, Femi no makeup. Woman shall not live by makeup alone.”

“Hmmmm….. That’s strange coming from someone who makes up when going for a swim.”

“I’ve wanted to ask you this; what’s wrong with you? Are you and your husband having problems? There has been something about you all day, something dark and melancholy.”

“Femi, leave the poetry. Let’s go.”

“No, Boye talk to me. We are friends right?” He asked tilting my chin upwards.

“I can’t.” I whimpered feeling tears spring to my eyes before I could stop them.

“Its okay.” he said drawing me close.

I snuggled up to him and allowed him to comfort me.

“Stop crying Omoboye. We could go in and talk about it.”


“Stop crying please”, he said rubbing my back and laying a hand on my buttocks.

I paused wanting to slap it off but I didn’t; at least not for several seconds. For some strange reason it felt good lying there.

“Let’s go.” I said breaking the contact after several seconds.

“We don’t have to go. “

“Femi, we either leave now or I go back into my room and lock myself in.”



Omoboye’s dress was the first thing I saw as I entered the fourth floor. She said she hated this dress, why is she wearing it? I thought. It warmed my heart to see her in the dress. It was my gift to her for her last birthday before we got married and she had said it wasn’t good enough for her taste.

I stood at the elevator entrance and watched her walk down the lobby.

Femi saw me first.

He tapped her and pointed at me.

I smiled rushing towards her to give her a hug.

“Jite, what are you doing here?” She asked stepping aside to avoid my hug.

“Omoboye, I wanted to see you, I wanted us to talk.”

“And who said we can’t do that when I get back? I think you should leave.” She added.


 photo credit: Toyinfabs’ Album


Not So Happily Married ……. Episode Ten

Hi All,

We have done Ten episodes so far. I can hardly believe this. That means TEN WEEKS. Wow! Thank you for being here every week. I love you. Mwaaaah.

This Episode is dedicated to my brand new Nephew. Mobolaji Oluwadamisi Omoikudu Daniel-Bello. Aunty Toyin loves you so very much. May God always be your strength and shield. Amen.



She walked towards me with her arms outstretched and combined with the smile on her face; you would think I was her long lost sister.

So this calls for a hug? I asked myself as she wrapped her hands around me. Still smiling she drew back and inspected me from head to toe.

She turned to Jite when she was done. He was still looking angry but she acted like she didn’t notice.

“Jite, you picked a very pretty one this time.” She said giving him what looked to me like an intimate smile.

That is it. I am done. I thought clenching my teeth. Who told her she could date my man behind my back and still act patronizing?

“Jite, I am leaving, I will see you later.” I said walking away.

I didn’t look back to see his expression but if he had called my name I would have heard.


You would think I was dumb. I didn’t say a word throughout the encounter, not even when Omoboye walked away. Skipper left right after Omoboye did giving me a jubilant look before she entered her car.

Is our marriage jinxed? I thought as I sat back inside the car. Why is it that every time we make some progress something happens that reverses it all? The weekend was supposed to be spent in relaxation. We were supposed to talk and sort all our issues but then Skipper decided to show up. How did she even know where we were? I wondered. Was she tailing me? It wasn’t something that was beyond her. She was psychotic enough to do worse.

Skipper! She was someone I had hoped Omoboye would never meet. She was someone I never wanted to have anything to do with. Again.

We met during my one year National Youth Service. I was determined to marry her and have three kids with her all in the first five minutes that we met. It was a classic case of Infatuation at first sight even though at that time I thought it was Love. I had been standing under the sun for hours waiting to be registered for the orientation camp and there were just about ten more people before it would be my turn when this lady walked up to me pleading with her eyes that she would like to enter the space in front of me. It wasn’t like she needed to plead, I was taken already just by looking into her eyes. Who wouldn’t? Not with her kind of looks. She had the kind of face, frame, skin and body that you get when you mix Edo, Igbo and Fulani genes.

I didn’t even think it through; I just motioned for her to get in. It didn’t matter that I had to contend with the other people on the queue especially the females. I made feeble attempts to make up a story about how she had been there before but the looks they shot me said they understood why I couldn’t say no.

I stayed glued to her even after registration. I was the dude who took her bags to the female hostel, the one who ensured that she got two buckets of clean water every day. I also took her feeding as my responsibility. She didn’t like the food served in the dining hall. She said it wasn’t up to standard, I agreed with her. She was too beautiful to eat the kind of food they served and so I took care of breakfast, lunch, dinner and the snacks and drinks she took whenever we were on the parade ground. She rewarded me with her attention; we spent almost every free time together. We wouldn’t go to our respective hostels even after the bells for lights out had been rung. We would remain entwined in one of the numerous dark corners until a Soldier chanced upon us or sleep became too hard to hold.

She wanted me to make love to her the first day we met. I declined. I believed she was too beautiful for that. I told her she was a delicious dish that one was meant to savor. She didn’t seem too happy about that and by the third day she threatened to give her attention to other guys who needed it. And so I obliged her even though I would have preferred that we do it on a regular bed. We had to make do with the parade ground and concrete floors. That first day and on subsequent days she brought a wrapper along from her hostel room which we spread on the floor or field whenever we wanted to make love. I told her how I felt, but she laughed it off saying we weren’t the only ones after all. I felt she was more beautiful and classier than all those other girls and I told her so but still it made no difference. That was when I started hearing the alarm bell that must have been ringing the moment she started pestering me for sex. What kind of girl does not mind being slept with on a parade ground? But I ignored my fears and we continued our escapades.

It wasn’t until we got posted to the same ministry and we started living together that I realized she was a sex addict. Skipper just had to have sex; nothing could stand in her way. Not menstrual periods, not fasting, not Malaria or Typhoid, not even having an audience. Nothing. I couldn’t keep up and wanted to break the relationship but I couldn’t not after she told me she had borderline personality disorder and could commit suicide if I left her. So I was stuck with her for the rest of the service year. I was ecstatic as NYSC drew to an end especially after she told me her parents wanted her to go for her Masters programme in Cyprus.

We parted on the passing out parade ground. She made me promise I was going to call her every day. I made the promise and a host of others that I had no intention of keeping. I liked her a lot, she was and is still very beautiful but she was much more than I could handle. She however wouldn’t let me be. She became my official stalker, I had to close my Facebook account and even change my email address because of her but still she always had a way to get in touch. She would use my Mom, friends and anyone else that could give her access to me. That went on for two years and then there was silence. Three years of silence. No calls, no mails. Nothing, until the day Omoboye and I got back from Zanzibar.

My heart had skipped a beat when I saw “Incoming call from Skipper” on my phone. I was never going to delete her number; I wanted to always know it was her calling so I could ignore the call. But that day I picked it and then she screamed my name saying how glad she was to have found me again. I didn’t ask why she had to call after I had given thanks to God that she was gone forever. She apologized for not keeping in touch for so long saying that after her Masters programme she took up a humanitarian job in Asia, something that had to do with educating children in remote villages. So why did you leave the needy children of Asia or did you just wake up one morning and realized there were children with greater needs in Africa? I wanted to ask her that but I didn’t instead I asked why she was calling.

“Jite that hurts me; you shouldn’t be asking me that. You are the only man I have ever loved and you know that. It wasn’t like I ever forgot you, I thought of you all the time and when I got back I wanted to call but I decided it wasn’t time yet. But then a few days ago, I was quite bored and I decided to check a blog that a friend told me about. Going through the blog, I saw a link about some popular make up artist’s wedding and when I opened the link I saw you Jite.”

She said the last few words in a pained voice. I knew what was coming even before it started.

“Why Jite? Why would you marry another woman? That should have been me you were holding Jite. We had so much promise. But anyway let’s leave all that. I think I am over it now, although I cried for hours after seeing your wedding pictures, but I am fine really. I will just like you to do me a favor. Can I meet her? I will like us to be friends.”

“Friends ke? I wouldn’t even allow you guys to meet.” I replied ending the call. But Skipper kept calling every day and her request was the same every time. She wanted to meet my wife.

I started the car deciding it was better to go look for Omoboye. I decided to go the house praying I would meet her there. I could imagine what was going through her mind. She probably thought the pregnancy Skipper was carrying was mine.

Why is it so easy for my wife to believe the worst of me? I am so not trusted. I sighed driving away from the Supermarket.


Getting a cab wasn’t hard, there was a taxi park few yards from the Supermarket and I hopped into the first one I saw.

“Where?” He asked.

“Just keep driving towards Ajah.”

“Where in Ajah?”

“Just keep moving.”

“We charge 2,000 naira for anywhere in Ajah oo.”

“You talk too much o jare. Just move the car.”

I was calm. It was strange. My typical reaction would have been to cry or tear my hair out. But I was calm. I knew what I had to do. It was to get out of Lagos for a few days. I needed to be out of Jite’s reach at least for a few days and I knew just where to go. Calabar. I should have been there that weekend. There was a fashion and beauty exhibition organized by an international clothing line that was being held in Tinapa and I had been invited together with the photographer I work with. Femi.

He had been excited about us going together but I had declined thinking it would be better to spend the weekend with Jite.

Calabar is where I need to be. I decided. I gave the cab driver the directions to our house praying I would be able to pack my things before Jite would get home. I placed a call to Femi and was glad he hadn’t left. He was about leaving for the airport and I told him to get me a ticket and come pick me up on his way to the airport.

However, there was something else I needed to do before I leave. A pregnancy test. It was time to know I decided. If Skipper was pregnant then it was only fair that I should be pregnant too. Let’s see who Jite will pick between his wife and mistress. I thought.

I was glad to see Jite wasn’t around when I got home. I had a short time for everything I wanted to do. Jite could come home any minute. I had bought some Pregnancy test strips on my way to the house and grabbing three, I rushed into our bathroom.

Fifteen minutes and three used strips later, I had what had to be the result in my hand. It was negative. There is nothing in this stomach after all. I murmured. I had no idea how much I wanted to be pregnant until that moment.

“Three months and you are not pregnant. You are barren Boye.” I wailed images of several childless women that I knew flashing across my vision.

Not So Happily Married …. Episode Nine



It felt like when we were dating. There I was getting flowers, smelling several bouquets, trying to get a perfect blend of Tulips and Roses, just the way she liked her flowers. When was the last time I gave her flowers? I thought, a pang of guilt coursing through my veins. Flowers, chocolates and every other silly thing that women love; It was close to a year. I had stopped being who I was right after the abortion issue. A part of me reassured me it wasn’t really my fault but the part that loves Omoboye unconditionally faulted me. It told me I was wrong to stop being me. Love forgives all.

By the time I was done shopping, I had three goody bags filled to the brim. One look at me and Omoboye’s mum would know we had been fighting. I thought chuckling. Since I was supposed to be coming back from a trip, I decided to add two loaves of bread to my load. I went home after I was done, there was five more hours before night fall.


“No, Boladale. You did not!”

“Tell me I am wrong. Tell me right now. Tell me it’s not who I am thinking.”

“Omoboye, please calm down.” She whimpered.

“I should calm down?” I saw through the corner of my eyes that we had an audience and I almost imagined the security of the eatery throwing us out any moment.

“Boladale, I will calm down because I need you to start from the very beginning. I need you to tell me that I am wrong, that it is not Dapo that you are pregnant for. So I am going to calm down right now, I am going to sit down and you will do the same and we will have a very calm discussion, just make sure you tell me it’s not Dapo.”

That was when she broke down in tears. Frantically drawing out her handkerchief, she blew her nose and I turned up my face in disgust. I hated her so much at that moment. There was no denying it, I had to be right. It must be Dapo or why else would she feel this much guilt. I thought.

“Omoboye, I didn’t plan for this to happen at all. He is not someone I would want to have anything to do with given the history between you two and the fact that he is married.”

“Wait, Boladale.” I said as calmly as I could.

“Are you saying Dapo is the father of your unborn baby?”

She nodded.

“Babe, I don’t want you to nod. I want you to say it. I need to hear his name on your lips.”

“Yes, Boye. It’s Dapo.” She said choking on her tears.

“It’s Dapo.” I repeated placing my head in my palms.

“Boye, you don’t have friends.” I told myself. Why would this girl do this to me? She knew what Dapo put me through, she knew how much he maltreated me, she knows how much I hate him, she knows everything that ever happened between us and how I hate to hear his name mentioned.

“So you are pregnant for Dapo?” I said after raising my head up. “It’s okay. Now I want to hear exactly how that “mistake” happened. The whole story mind you.”

She then started a story that could qualify for a full episode of a “Why do hoes fall so quick” series. (If someone ever decides to do such)

I didn’t interrupt, it was too sweet a story to spoil with comments or questions. Here is how she told it;

“We were just having fun as we usually do at work and that day someone brought up the topic of married men and single ladies. The married women on my desk said it’s totally wrong for a single girl to date a married man. They went on and on about how stupid it was and how shameless such girls were and how nemesis will catch up with them when they also marry.”

Boladale then said although she agreed with them, she decided to play the devil’s advocate and side with the guys. I didn’t ask why she did that but she said it all the same. She said the ladies were too full of themselves, that they saw their being married as a trophy of some sort and looked down on single girls like her. She said she told them she saw nothing wrong in a married man dating a single girl because it doesn’t matter to a single girl whether the man that can fulfil her physical and emotional needs is single or married especially when the single ones are not forthcoming.

“The guys hailed me” she said. “They called me a “correct girl”  but the ladies shot me looks of disdain and went on to give several reasons why they believed I was very wrong. Boye, I stood my ground and kept defending my point even though I didn’t really believe it.”

I wanted to smile at that point, and the part of me that was still a diehard fan of Boladale wanted to give her a thumb up. That was vintage Bola; she never backed down in any argument even when she was wrong.

But still I didn’t interrupt; no words, no smile, no thumbs up and she continued.

“After a while, we moved on to other things. Later that day a male colleague told me since it was Friday night, they wanted to go to a Karaoke bar and restaurant that just opened on Ligali Ayorinde Street, they asked if I would like to come and I felt it was okay given that it wasn’t so far from my house. So I followed them.”

She paused at that point and swallowed hard. Go on Bitch, I wanted to say. At least they didn’t rape you or did they? Go on bitchy Boladale, let’s hear how you slept with your friend’s married ex.

“We had fun  and then the other guys started pairing up with girls, every one of them except Dapo. At a point, we were the only ones left at the table. I really don’t know what happened, but I am pretty sure I wasn’t drugged because I didn’t leave my seat at all and I opened all my drinks myself. But somehow the atmosphere changed. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I have been celibate for over Eight months.

Mstcheww, perhaps it’s due to the fact that you are just an unrepentant hoe! I wanted to say but I didn’t interrupt her and so she continued.

“Suddenly, Dapo’s perfume felt like the sweetest thing I ever smelled and I could feel myself getting moist just looking at him. He must have felt something too because we just kept looking at each other. Boye, do you know that place? Da Real? If you know it, perhaps you would understand. They have these enclaves that are dimly lit, cozy, cool and so romantic. Perhaps that was part of what affected me. But before long, Dapo got all feely touchy and I didn’t stop him. I knew I should have but I didn’t.

Of course I didn’t know Da Real and I didn’t understand how a cozy enclave could make a woman lose her senses, maybe I am just biased but I didn’t answer her yet again. I just stayed mute listening.

“And then, we were walking and I somehow hoped we were going outside where I could breathe fresh air and get over the lust. I knew I won’t be able to say no if he decided to kiss me or do more than kiss.  I  followed him when he entered one of the back rooms. You know those rooms they keep in anticipation of such things. Looking back, I think Dapo must have booked it earlier because I can’t remember him booking a room. I didn’t allow myself to think, I was afraid common sense will tell me to flee. Not even when his lips sought mine, not when my clothes started dropping like onion peels. It wasn’t until I felt the first wild thrust that my brain started warming up. It was at that point that I started murmuring. Oh no, we didn’t do this. No I didn’t do this. He didn’t say a word in reply Omoboye, he didn’t say a word. Not shhhh, not “don’t worry” not even “yes Bola, we are doing this”. Nothing Boye, he just kept thrusting in and out. He never paused, not until he was done. Boye, I didn’t even enjoy it, I could not. The first thing I did when he got up was confirm that he had used a condom and then I put on my clothes hurriedly and without a word ran back to my car.

I was crying by the time she was done. We were both sobbing, my tears were silent; hers were a bit noisy. A part of me felt sorry for her, that part of me wanted to console her. I knew very well, the kind of man that Dapo was and I felt sad he hadn’t changed. I knew I should forgive Boladale but I couldn’t stop thinking of Dapo’s wife, her angelic and sweet face kept coming to my mind.

“How will she feel if she knows you are pregnant?” I said aloud.

“Boye, that’s my greatest nightmare right now but I can’t abort. I can’t afford to.” Bola said amidst the tears. I didn’t fail to see the determination in her eyes.

I had no intention of advising her to abort her baby; I didn’t even want to say anything more to her. At least not yet so I wiped my face clean, picked my bag and walked out. I didn’t glance back but I could feel her watery eyes trailing me as I walked out.


I still can’t decide which was better between that night and our first night in Zanzibar. It was beyond beautiful for want of a better adjective to use. The very sane part of me kept wondering if our relationship was that type that was only sweet when misunderstandings and making up are mixed in the right blends.

I got to the house about Eight pm and Omoboye gave me a very warm hug. The hug was warm but her eyes were not and I knew the hug was just for her Mom’s benefit. We could still go home if we wanted to but I understood that it was important for Omoboye’s ego that she stayed that night just as she had said when we spoke on phone. Her Mom was watchful and kept trying to see if there was any awkwardness between us. We both had enough experience in keeping up appearances so I think we succeeded in fooling her.

My mother in law went to bed few minutes to Nine pm and bade us good night after ensuring there was an extra cover cloth for me in Omoboye’s room. My wife however took it to the guest room immediately her mom went to bed reminding me she had said we were not going to sleep in the same room.

I didn’t mind, I had guessed she wasn’t going to back down anyway. We didn’t speak after her mom left and she even ignored my enquiries about how she was doing and when we were going to have the discussion. She kept her eyes glued to the television watching a program where women found themselves in labour without any prior knowledge of being pregnant. The program seemed drab and un-real to me. How could you possibly tell me someone was pregnant for nine months without knowing? But above all, It was quite depressing to see Omoboye was still neck deep in her Somatization and pregnancy obsessions.

I left the sitting room after watching the program for about twenty minutes. I walked up to her as I was about leaving and slipped the note I wrote earlier in the day into her bra.


I must have been so tired to not have heard when the door opened, but I opened my eyes immediately she entered the room. It was her scent that alerted me; the scent of Frederico Mahora’s Pheromone that had become permanently registered in my brain.

She was on the bed before I could say a word, lying on my chest. I hugged her hard and kissed her lips. We didn’t speak, we just held each other at first and then I splayed my hands on her rear. It was smooth despite the fact that I was touching it through her sleep wear. The kind of smooth that makes you realize she was wearing nothing under. We didn’t speak; I never even opened my eyes throughout. I just made love to her with my eyes closed. My hands were familiar with every part of her and her soft little moans told me where exactly she wanted me to linger.

It was like our best ever, perhaps because we knew her Mom was just down the hallway and we couldn’t afford to make animal noises or maybe it was because we both channelled the unresolved issues between us into a sexual energy of some sorts or maybe it was because we didn’t allow each other to come fully. She kept vibrating in my arms for a long time after we stopped, grinding her body against mine. I smiled a smile of contentment certain she was going to follow me home the next morning.


How could I say no when he asked if I would go home with him the next day. First I knew Mom would ask what the problem was if I didn’t but I could have explained that away so it was more like I followed him because I wanted to. It was hard to fight with him after the explosive night we spent together. It was as if Mom knew too because I caught something that looked like a wink in her eyes when she asked me what I thought my husband would like to eat.

We left after breakfast. I carried the flowers that Jite brought the previous night. They were well preserved. I am a sucker for Roses and Tulips and I think I temporarily forgot every bitterness I felt the moment he walked into my Mom’s house with the flowers in his arms.

We were not going home. Since it was a weekend, I suggested that we go to a resort outside Lagos to unwind and he had agreed readily. I told him I would prefer if we discussed on a neutral ground, somewhere different from our house.

We had stopped at a supermarket to get some toiletries when a car parked in front of ours and a woman stepped out from it. I frroze. It was Skipper in real life. She is even more beautiful than her photos I thought disappointment clouding my eyes. I had hoped for a blemish, but I could see none from where I stood.

Jite stood rooted to a spot, he looked angry.

Bastard! I thought, he never expected his mistress to trail us and reveal herself this way.

“Wow, you must be Boye.” Skipper said excitedly.

I didn’t answer; I just gazed at her stomach as she removed the shawl draped around her upper body. She was sporting an unmistakable bump. I was sure it was pregnancy; it was the only thing I knew that could curve a woman’s stomach that way.

She is pregnant I wanted to say but the words didn’t come out. I just looked from her excited face to Jite’s angry face trying to decide if I should scream or run.

“Boye, I am so glad to meet you. This man here is so desperate to hide me.” Skipper said smiling and revealing deep and beautiful dimples.

So she also has dimples too.

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