I am not perfect but I know I have done my best. When I married him, he had NOTHING. l was the one supporting the home with my little paying job. I went extra miles, doing extra moral classes after my job just to be able to meet up. And I continued doing my wifely duties while he is practically lazy with house chores.
He said he was not trained to do house chores. So after my job and extra morals, I come home to clean, wash, cook and spread my legs. He didn’t have anything doing at that time. He spends most of his time at home but doesn’t touch anything. He is also an abuser. He will beat the living day light out of me and abuse my family especially my mother on top of it. Mind you, my family never visits. They gave us a very big space when we initially got married. He was intimidated by my family and takes every opportunity to abuse them for no reason.
The worst part, he cheats. When he got a job, his true color came out. He even told me once that I am suppose to boil water to massage his dick when he returns from cheating. I don’t want to go into how his family frustrates me. The funny part is, he has a low sperm count. The count is so low that doctor advised us to go for IVF which he has refused to do. So on top of his low sperm count, he beats the crap out me, abuses my family, cheats on me to my face.
Well, I was frustrated and emotionally drained and got to my limit. I told my father I want a divorce. You know the typical African father. He objected. Well, I decided to live. I met a young man whom is 6 years older and he turned my world around.
To cut the story short, we had sex. Well, I broke up with him because I couldn’t live like that. I wanted to give my husband a second chance to see if anything can change. But no. Today, he told me how he sent one girl money to transport her from school to her house. The other time he told me a girl offered to come to town to fuck him if he doesn’t mind and if he can pay.
Well, right now I’m living everyday as it comes. We have a daughter, very beautiful daughter. Truth is, I don’t know whether he’s the father of my baby or whether she belongs to the man I met and I don’t care. If it happens that she’s not his, I will just pack my small bag and ‘fly’ out.
Did I mention the young man has never stopped checking on me? He mentioned that the baby could be his, he even begged for a DNA. I told him to get lost. But I know deep down that she could be his. So that is my story. Thank you my sisters for reading.