Dear diary,
I got married last year June to Adigun Olufisayo Raymond, my supposed dream man. I have been married for just 10 months, and I already want a divorce. I miss HOME. I have tried to condone everything he and his family have been putting me through, but for the sake of my health and condition, I think it is just best to put things to an end. For better for stay; for worse, le walk away.
Let me take you to the very beginning.
I was a student of banking, and an aspiring writer at the time. You know how people just go to school for the sake of certificates, but have greater plans to put their lives into. Guess I am just one of such people.
I met Raymond on Facebook. He had sent me a friend request, which was followed by an in box asking to know more about me. He complimented my writings, and pictures; and claimed to be one of my very many teeming fans. Seeing as he kept up with my writing career and made me feel good about what I was doing, though my parents thought it was a total waste of time, I took particular liking to him; and with time, I let us take things a little further.
We became friends on BlackBerry, and all other social network sites that I was on. He would use my pictures every now and then, and post prayer messages for me whenever I was in a contest. After about a month of playing the loyal fan, and supportive friend, he asked me out and I accepted. Thinking back now, I think I accepted him for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t love him, I couldn’t.
I had loved too many people that my parents wouldn’t let me be with, so I settled for ‘like’. That was the farthest my heart could go after numerous heartbreaks. Raymond was not particularly handsome, or breathtakingly gorgeous but I liked him because he supported me like no one plus he was a banker, so I was sure my parents would like him too. At that time, there was too much pressure on me from the home front. My parents were not happy with my lifestyle. They would say my clothes
were not religious and this, and that.
They hated my hair, the company I kept, my passion for fashion, and flair for writing.. To worsen things, they never approved of all the guys I introduced to them as my friend, and ‘potential’ boyfriends. All they wanted from, and saw in me, was for me to be a banker. Both my parents are first class students of banking and finance from the same university, and they graduated during the same year. That was what they wanted for me too. They wanted me to introduce bankers, accountants, engineers, doctors, and the likes to them.
That was the main reason why I felt Raymond was just the way out of the hell they put me through. Now I know I thought wrong. There’s never a place like home. No one would give you the kind of love, and comfort your parents would give you. I never knew that, but now I know better.
We dated for three months, and all through the time, he never asked me for sex. That also impressed me. Rather than talk about sex, he would talk about marriage. He claimed to be a virgin, and a devout christian. He looked it too, so it was hard to believe otherwise. He had encouraged me to apply for a writing course in the University of Bedfordshire, and promised to sponsor me if it worked through. Sadly, He isn’t much of a giver but I was too distracted to notice.
His seeming support was my happiness, and whilst he made me happy, I did my best to make him happy too and never asked too much of him. At 28, Raymond still lived with his parents and two younger female siblings. You see, Raymond was a lot of things. He was insensitive, insecure, and most importantly, a mummy’s boy. All of these never mattered because I was too in a haste to leave where I was for somewhere new.
After my graduation, my parents secured a job for me in the banks where each of them worked, using their influences to pave the way for me. I refused the offer, and for that they wouldn’t let me be. I told them I had done my best sacrificing four golden years of my life doing what they want, and I couldn’t afford spending the rest of my life doing something I didn’t like.
They would persist that it’s either I accept their offer, or leave their house as they couldn’t bear my stay in the house like someone whose credentials were not good enough to get a job. I told them I needed some time. As an upcoming writer, you know, it takes a while to get established, and start earning money. To cut the story short, Raymond’s proposal came in good time, and I jumped at it instantly; not without cajoling him to get an apartment for us first. In my mind, I was in for bliss.
Preparations began, and in no time, I changed from ‘that 23 year old beautiful aspiring writer,’ to ‘that new full housewife.’ Two months into the marriage, I was as fat as the word itself. Each night, he would turn to me like a sex- starved maniac. And every morning, after he is off to work, worn- off totally, I would hit my bed and sleep through the day. I was too tired to even get inspired to write. I became unhappy because he had shifted attention from me to himself. He didn’t even consider us as a couple in the decisions he made.
Soon enough, my fans and readers from Facebook started contacting me to know what went wrong and like a cue, Raymonds insecurity got the hell over him. He started keeping tab of my calls, social network accounts, and wouldn’t let me keep in touch with my fans, most of whom were male. When it got somewhat unbearable, I discussed with him telling him how unhappy I was at how he had been treating me, he apologised, and I accepted. I thought it was over. But, I thought wrong.
(To be Continued)
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Damore Ali is a poet, short story writer and blogger. She has been published on several online forums including Naija Stories. She is an accountant by training and a lover of good music. Damore also goes by the name Dr. 2103. She blogs at http://dr2103.wordpress.com.
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