Some Men Make You Want to Hurt Them…..




Some men make you want to hurt them; men like my husband….

To him, he is first Tomide’s dad before he is my husband.


His twitter profile reads……… Thinker, Lawyer, Tomide’s dad”


His Facebook profile name was Tomide’s dad. Going through his albums on Facebook, you would never guess he is married. The pictures were either of him or of Tomide. You wouldn’t find a single picture of me anywhere.



His life and our marriage revolves around Tomide. He is the one that he spends seventy percent of his income on. My husband only bought me a car because I gave him a son. During the pregnancy; he believed BRT and Danfo were good enough for me. It was because of Tomide that I got the first opportunity to travel out of the country,

“My son is too precious to be born in this stupid country, let’s arrange for you to have the child in America”. 

It was because of Tomide that I had to be a stay at home mom. “I don’t want my son in a day care.” “No one can take care of him like his mother”


I had insisted I couldn’t be a housewife and he had promised to give me money to start a business of my choice. Five million naira later and a promise of more I agreed to quit my job. I kept the money in a fixed deposit account and chose to sit at home taking care of Tomide. My husband never asked why I didn’t start a business, he was happy to see his son have a full time nanny.



I have no illusions; Tomide was the reason he married me. I am a baby factory, nothing more.

I still remember how my journey into baby mamahood started.

I had been spending a weekend with him like I usually did; I hadn’t been myself that particular weekend and he had noticed.


Baby, what’s wrong with you?

You’ve been quite sluggish of late, abi I don score goal?

“Which goal?” I had asked raising an eyebrow

“Do you want to score a goal? Did you not say you are not interested in getting married for the next five years?”

“I know I said that but I didn’t really mean it oo, pregnancy changes a lot of things you know. If you get belle now, the story go change. In fact I will marry you before the end of this month.”

“Ehn ehn, really? congrats nigbayen ooo, because I’m pregnant.”

I kicked myself inwardly the moment the words left my lips. No one was supposed to know I was pregnant. It was a pregnancy destined for termination. I had no wish to have a child for the world’s greatest loafer. The action that led to the pregnancy itself had been a mistake, a madness induced by excess alcohol intake.

“Are you kidding me?”

 Say you are joking, I told myself but I found myself confirming it instead.

“I’m not kidding.”

“You mean you are pregnant for me?” He asked pointing a finger towards his chest.

“Yes”, I replied almost choking on the lie.

That confirmation changed our relationship, I got an engagement ring the next day and two months after we were married.

Perhaps, I would have summoned the courage to tell him he wasn’t my baby’s father if everything hadn’t happened so quickly. I never had a chance to take a breath.



Being a baby factory or feeling like one is no fun. Tomide is Kosi’s world. I have a tiny corner there just because Tomide existed. Some days I feel so tempted to tell him that Tomide isn’t his son especially on days when he makes me feel like Tomide’s nanny instead of his mother.

“Why is my son’s feeding bottle on the dining table?”

“Why hasn’t his cloth been changed all day?”

“Did you buy the toy I asked you to buy?”

“How many times have you changed his diapers today?”

He would go on and on irritating me to no end.

I would want to scream, “relax oga, he is not even your son”. But I never did perhaps out of pity for him or just out of plain fear of what he will do to me.


Sometimes I would laugh inwardly when he bragged about how much he and his son had in common.

He would tell a friend;

“Na my forehead, nose, mouth and eyes my boy carry. He resembles me in everything. I won this one oo totally. Maybe I would give this Iya the next one, she can decide to have a girl if she likes; this one is mine.”


Sometimes he would turn to me and say;

“Did you see how my boy kicked that ball? He will be a good football player like his dad.”

“Did you see how he turned up his lips just now?”

“Mum said I used to do that as a kid.” He would add grinning happily.

I would nod and summon a fake smile. I would later wonder why nature decided to play such a huge joke on men, a woman would always be sure that a child was hers but men on the other hand accept whatever we present to them as theirs.


Tomide shared absolutely no resemblance to Kosi, their nose and forehead might be of the same shape but I was sure there were millions of other people who had the same type of forehead and nose.  I knew for certain that Kosi’s blindness would be cured if he saw Tomide and his biological father together. My son is the split image of Setan. I don’t like it but there was no doubt about it. I could only hope that they would have different behavioral patterns.



It is not my wish to tell Kosi he has been wasting his time and money for the last three years but Kosi tempts me so much. Each time he treats me like a machine that produces children and takes care of the house, I feel like screaming the truth just to hurt him. I have tried to keep myself from saying it for three long years but I feel one day I won’t be able to restrain myself.

I fear that a day would come when I would scream it out; he would go pale in shock and would ask me if I was saying it just to hurt him or if it was true, he would point at Tomide and say, “he is not my son?” I would nod, grab my son and run. Five million naira plus the more that will come should go a long way in taking care of a woman and her child or would it not? One can’t be too sure these days.


photo credit: google images

This Valentine


February 14 2012 was a very miserable day for me and I’m determined not to have such a day again. I had gotten to the office that morning ready for the day’s work having convinced myself there was nothing special about the day. As early as 8.00 am that morning, the flowers, cakes, gift boxes and other gifts had started trickling in. By every female in the office had various gifts neatly displayed around their work station, every female except me. My table stood out for its emptiness, I didn’t receive one single gift. I wanted to disappear and sink into the ground.


There are some individuals that make it their duty to make life miserable for others and I was unfortunate to have two of such in my office. I almost died from their teasing that day. They threw a myriad of questions were  at me.

Folayimika, Don’t you have a boyfriend or a fiancé or a maga or something?”

“But you are a fine girl now, how come nobody is sending anything to you?”

“Is it that your man is stingy?

“I have noticed you don’t talk about any man ? “

“Is there a problem, if there is please try to pray about it or Perhaps you should tell your mum?…….

“All these your plenty catwalking and bonfo should have produced something by now ooo”

“Maybe you should try convent oo”

The questions and teasings went on until I stood up and left for the restroom to avoid them seeing my tears.

It was a source of constant worry to me that no man seemed to be interested in me, the last time any guy asked me out (not counting motor cycle riders and the occasional annoying bus conductors) was over three years ago. For some reason I still don’t understand, they just stopped coming. I wouldn’t stoop so low to ask any man out (not that there was even any that I thought was worth the shame) but I tried a lot of things, I changed my whole wardrobe and started wearing very short dresses and even wore tight fitting suits to work but it still didn’t work, I even joined the choir in my church and attended every singles program organized by my church or any other church but not one brother glanced at me twice.

I believe I am a beautiful girl, 6.1 feet tall, fair complexioned, blessed with a pretty face and a well developed bosom, men should be falling over themselves to have me but somehow there hadn’t been any since I broke up with Hussein, the one that vowed that I will live to regret dumping him, sometimes I wonder if his curse was the reason for my being without a man.


So, this valentine, I was ready to do all it takes to avoid shame. I carefully planned my strategy and set my plans in motion as early as November 2012. I searched for pictures of black guys on Google and chose a really handsome one that I was sure wasn’t a celebrity and used it as my display picture on Blackberry. I used the picture at least once in a week and I always made sure there was a smiley that depicted love or kisses in my display message and would use words such as le boo, me loff, bobo etc. Gradually the questions changed to “who is this guy of yours?” “Where does he stay?” “Where does he work?….. I never answered any of the questions, I just replied with a caustic “stay tuned”.


I started planning the gifts that I would send to myself on Monday 11th February 2013. My budget for this project was =N= 100,000, I wanted to be the center of all attention, my sanity depended on it. I made sure the calls were made when I was alone in my flat, I couldn’t risk anyone hearing I was making orders for myself. I paid for all purchases with my GTBank Naira MasterCard and gave the delivery address as my office.


So today, the 16 inches forest cake came in first at exactly 8.10 am. It was beautiful and I let out my carefully practiced “Awwww, my baby is so sweet” It had an inscription that said “My Darling Folayimika”. The cake was so beautiful and I beamed in smiles as my colleagues trooped to my desk to have a look. I smirked satisfied at the surprised look on their faces, if only you knew there is more to come, I thought.


The Valentine hamper came next, a big basket that had cost me =N=25,000. That was the one they all went gaga over; they arranged the gifts around my work station and took endless pictures. I was giddy with excitement, this was a good valentine and there was still even more gifts to come. By 11.00 am when the bouquet of fresh red roses came, there was a shriek of excitement in the entire office. “Wow!” they exclaimed, I looked out for jealous looks from my female colleagues and I caught quite a few. The bouquet was huge and filled my entire arms. I grinned from ear to ear excited by the attention I was receiving. At exactly one o clock, the big box of Swedish chocolates came in, everyone wanted me to open the box and cut the cake and so I left it for them, I even allowed my two greatest teasers to be in charge of the sharing.


I believe fervently that the =N=85,000 I spent in arranging all the gifts was worth it, you could say it was a waste of good money but I think the attention I received and the sadness I avoided today was worth the money spent. I was still smiling even as my office assistant packed my gifts into the boot of my car. I know the sadness will come later tonight when I am all alone and I see the display pictures of my friends going out on dinner dates with their husbands and boyfriends. The tears will come then but for now I am enjoying the happiness I feel. Perhaps I won’t have to do this next year. I can only hope.

















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