Why Get Married: Men Lie Women Cheat!

Saturday, October 28, 2006

I Cheated and I am not Ashamed

I am not ashamed of what I have done. In fact I am proud of what I have done. If you have a problem then you don't understand what it feels like to be trapped
I married young. I am not excusing my actions but i was coerced.

My parents met this young accomplished business man from Lagos and his friend in 1995. They came to our village to visit his family. I was only 15 at the time and barely past SSI for those that don't know what SSI is well that is Tenth Grade here. I loved my village. I will not tell you the name of my village in the East but it was a very small community. We had festivals and wonderful activities for young women. I had many suitors in my village and loved the attention I got. I will not say I had never been kissed or touched but I was still a naive virgin when I got married.

Anyway, my father and mother I feel sold me into marraige at the age of 15 to this friend of a business man from Lagos. The man's name was Emeka. He was in his forties and had a rotund belly. He was from America and after many years of not having a wife he decided to come to the village and find one. I was the unfortunate girl. He plied my father with money and gifts and my mother, her eyes to big for her own self, accepted these gifts. So I became the wife of Mr. Emeka Nwan------. I didn't like him from the first day.

He was balding and he had a huge belly. I remember how repulsed I felt the night he climbed his huge mass on top of me and took my precious gift. I remember him sweating and hurting me and after three minutes of him saying "Oga," and "kei" he fell his huge body on mine and passed out. I remember crawling out from under him prefering not to suffocate and crying in a corner.

we left for Lagos and I lived in his sister's house for many months. I was her house help basically. Cleaning, washing her clothes, cooking and taking care of her miserable children. I hated my life. I wasn't allowed back in school. I was locked in the house and not allowed out of the compound. five months later, I was taken to the U.S. Embassy and then shipped off to the United States.

My very fat husband met me at the airport. He was so happy to see me he began kissing me with his bass like lips. His lips were everywhere and I kept trying to wipe off saliva from my face. I am sure all those americans were grossed out. He kept grabbing and pinching my breasts in the car and calling me his "sweet woman". We arrived at this house and I marveled at my husbands wealth. Apperently Emeka was doing good for himself. He had a big house and the car we were in wasn't so bad. He lived in a gated community in Maryland and well the house was big.

He took me upstairs and accusted my body once again. I remember pretending to like it because I ddin't want him to throw me out of the house.

So began our charade of a marriage. I got my GED and got pregnant and had two sets of twins. My mother came to America to help me look after them. Life was great for Emeka he had a wife and four boys. I was attending a community college and at the time the affair began.

There was a Nigerian boy in my class. He was very handsome and Yoruba. I fell for him with his strapping body. He was part of a soccer team that played for University of Maryland and was taking classes for the semester at my community college. We became friends. I had a cell phone but I told him (Bimbo) that he should call me because my husband might pick up. I explained my situation and he seemed sympathetic. We decided to meet up for lunch one day at his apartment.

Since I knew my way around the D.C. area by now and my mother was watching the kids, I met with him in D.C. He had an apartment that was rather small but really nice. He lived alone and he was very neat. We had lunch which he made and watched a movie. It was getting late and he kissed me goodbye at the door. It was the best kiss I had had in a long while if ever. I felt like my world had stopped. He smelled good and the feel of his strong arms around me holding me was great. I mean no flabby flesh, not stomach or loose weight. Just muscle. This was how a man was supposed to smell. This was how a man was supposed to feel.

I left feeling excited. I wanted more but didn't want to be the one to start so that he wouldn't think I am slut.

My husband was waiting for me at the house. I apologized and said my teacher took long and that I was sorry. He wanted dinner and I immediately fell into the role of wife. I gave him dinner, which my mother had made and that night allowed him to touch me. I had taken to finishing myself off in the bathroom afterwards. or in the morning when showering with the shower head. A girl has to learn to take care of herself.

Two weeks later I met up with Bimbo again. This time we met up at school. He drove me to his apartment and before we could do anything we were making out on the couch. He told me he wanted me. I told him I wanted him too and we fell on the floor. My clothes came off and I remember spreading my already dripping pussy open for him to enter. We made rough sex all over his furniture. It was great. On my way home I felt the touches and caress of him. He had a huge penis. I never knew a guy could be that huge. He filled me totally. He had hurt me inside because he was so large and i was really excited.

This began our romantic encounters. By day I was the naughty girl who cheated on her husband by night I was a docile Nigerian wife. Our affair went on for six months. I got pregnant. Bimbo was scared. I told him that he didn't have to worry because the baby would be taken care of my husband. My husband was excited. He wanted a girl. I hoped it was a girl.

Bimbo and I stopped seeing each other. I had a baby girl. She looked like bimbo but had my complexion. My husband thought she was beautiful. I think she is just gorgeous. Last year we took a family picture. My husband, the five children and I. Everyone swore we are the perfect family. Only two people on earth know otherwise. Bimbo sent me an invitation to his wedding this year. I attended with my husband.
I met up with Bimbo the day before his wedding and we had sex. It was once again great.

We keep in contact and we plan to continue our affair.

I am in a loveless but happy marriage. My children are happy, my husband has use of my body and is happy. I have a lover. He loves his wife and is happy. I am the other woman, he is the other man. We have a love child together. I do not love bimbo. But I do not regret what I am doing.

So go ahead and judge me. I don't care

Posted by Passion :: 8:12 PM :: 6 comments

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Yes Mom!

She rules his every move. I don't mean to be very dismissive of her because she has her good side. But she rules his every move.

When we first met Paul told me he was not a traditional Nigerian man. He didn't believe that his family should know all his business. He told me he was different. He didn't need a green card because he was a medical doctor. He didn't need anything from me except "the pleasure of my company"

That all changed after we got married. You see I am not the typical Nigerian wife. I am a white woman. A very blonde, loving her life as a wife no children. I told Paul that I didn't want children. He understood because of my traumatic childhood.

My mother was abusive to my sister and I. And she is currently in jail for the murder of my sister. She tied my sister to a table leg and left her there with no food. I got a serious beating for getting food to her one day and well mother dearest broke two of my ribs and cracked my collar bone. Needless to say, while I was in the hospital under teh care and watch of social services, my sister was dying on the kitchen floor.

By the time she was found she was so malnurished that she died of hypothermia enroute to the hospital. What a way to celebrate Christmas right?

I hate Christmas till today.

So, Paul understood that I didn't want my mother's line to continue through me. i just wanted to die and let her legacy and her heritage die with me. He helped me want to live. But respected the fact that I didn't want children. He didn't care and said we could always adopt.

Well after the wedding, about four years into our lovely life, his mother came to live with us from Nigeria. Paul felt that a change of environment would do her justice. We welcomed her into our home and gave her a room. We live in New York City in a beautiful home in Manhattan. Or shall I say we live in a beautiful apartment. I love the feel of the city around me and I love the fact that we can afford it. His mother didn't like it.

She complained that we didn't have a house, we told her we owned our posh apartment. she said that and i quote "your mates are buying homes and you are living in this apartment..." I loved our vaulted ceilings, fine designer furniture and beautiful balcony patio garden. I had had designers come in a make sure that our floor to ceilings windows had custom drapery. We had a lot of square footage and we had a loft room set up for her. She hated my home. I was offended. She insisted she was going to stay with Paul's sister in Virginia if we didn't "upgrade". I had hoped that Paul would explain that the way things were right now was very "upgraded".

Four months later I watched as our Real Estate Agent and my husband signed the final closing documents for the sale of my home.

We bought a beautiful home in Greenwich Connecticut. It cost a bundle but she seemed pleased. The commute compared to living in the city was long and I missed th hustle of life around me. Here we had a pool, a jacuzzi and trees all around. Nothing else. No bars, clubs or restaurants on the corner.

Anyway enough of me moping.

She hated my cooking. I am an excellent cook. My whole family raves about my lasagna. My foster mother was Italian taught me how to make some really good Antapasti and Gnochi. She hates my cooking. I came home one day to find the house smelling like dead rats. Apprently she was making him something called "Ogbono". I respected her and he stopped eating my food. He started gaining weight.

He lost his flat stomach and started growing a belly. I told him he needed to hit the gym. She told him that successful men grew stomachs and that if his wife took care of him it must show. So he didn't go to the gym. He went up five dress sizes in the last eight months.

She controls our money now. I have a seperate account but we have a joint account for vacations. She hijacked that account and convinced him to use the money to build a house in Nigeria. She is using my hard earned money to pay the tuition of one of his causins in Lagos without my consult. I found out about this of cours four months into the atrocities. I was attempting to book our annual cruise. We do this every year with our friends, it is alot of fun. The agent said the account was closed. I found this hard to believe so I asked Paul about the account. He closed out a $25,000 account to send money to his mother's brother's son who is in need of money for school, and he mentioned he has started building our retirement home in Nigeria.
His mother adviced him on it.

She got him in trouble at work. Yes my darling husband is under investigation at the hospital he practices at. He was sneaking prescription drugs to his mother for one of his "family members" back home by writing phony prescriptions out to his mother. Justice caught up with him and now he is out of work until the whole mess is sorted out. Guess what, the financial responsibility now rests on me. I have to pay for this fucking big ass house that I didn't want, and the two cars that we didn't need if we lived in New York. I have to pay all the credit card bills and other expenses of his that are now piling up.

I think what pushed me over the edge was the constant battle about children. He was becoming withdrawn and refusing to touch me. I didn't care since I didn't find him as appealing any more. I went out with our friends without him and he no longer hung out with me. Instead he took his mother to Nigerian parties and he travelled to functions with his sister who conviniently was "visiting" her mother for the last three months from Virginia. Ugh!

I knew he was being pushed by his mother because he woudl say things like "what is the purpose of sleeping with you if we will not have any product of our marriage" or "How can you deprive me of creating my own family and producing and heir for my people?" What the fuck was this? How can he begin to change his tune. Four years we were fine but once his mother comes from her village we become different people?

On the unfortunate day, my husband came home drunk his mother was awake. They were both yelling and screaming. I had a to be in New York City at 7:00 and I stepped out of my room to ask them to keep it down.

She proceeded to call me a Harlot, and asked me to pack out of her son's house because I could not make him happy. He sat there with his fat self and said nothing. I told her that I didn't think I should leave, I paid the mortgage.He got up and slapped me and told me not to disrespect his mother. I went to the kitchen got a knift and lunged for his neck. His sister, god bless her, pulled me back. I told them all, since I paid the bills, I give them four days to get thier shit and get out of my house. I packed an over night case and drove to queens village where my good friend Amanda lives.

Paul called me continously but by now, I have fallen out of love with him. He is the shell of the man I once knew. How can he not stand up to his mother. She tells him what to wear, how to talk, what to say, what to write, how to eat, what to eat, how to spend his money, manage his health and she manages to fuck up his life and career in the process. I can't be with such a spineless man.

So, I arrived at the house four days later to find nothing different. They were all still there. Acting like the drama hadn't happened. The mother was ignoring me and the sister was being exceptionally nice. So I decided to put the house on the market. I also contacted a lawyer about filing for divorce. A client of mine was looking for a home for his wife in CT and when he came over to visit (thank god the idiots where out at one Nigerian wedding) he decided he liked it and would purchase it. He contacted my realtor, I started looking for apartments in Manhattan. With the profit I was going to make off the sale of our home, I was sure I would be set after splitting the profit with Paul.

I sold the house three weeks ago and purchased my own three bedroom apartment in SoHo. I moved all of my stuff out of the house and into my apartment and all of Paul's stuff was put in storage. The keys were turned over to my client and well Paul's mother and sister's stuff were put in a heap in the front yard. I had a cleaning crew come in a disinfect the entire home and give it a really good shine up.

Today, I am going through a divorce. I never thought that I would be thirty and getting a divorce. If ever a man would have been a success it would have been Paul. Now Paul is living in an apartment in Bridgeport with his mother and extremely messy/lazy sister. He works at a local pharmacy and can't practice as a doctor yet. He calls often and asks to see me. I don't care to see him or his family. I am done with that side of it.

I am not dating yet but I am sure once all this shit is done with I will be able to continue my life. I am back in New York City, the place of my heart. And loving it. I am with my friends who are all the family I need. Drinks on Monday, Movie on Tuesday, Show on wednesday, Broadway on thursday, Jazz club on Friday, Clubbin on Saturday, Sleep in on sunday. What more can a girl want....

I miss the old Paul

Posted by Passion :: 11:24 PM :: 4 comments

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And he married me for money

When I first heard about this journal I thought that maybe my story wouldn't matter since mine has to actually do with the person I married not just his family. But my friend told me that the best wey to get rid of all my demons would be to help her contribute to this new blog that she is developing. She wanted my story to be first so here i am writing my story enjoy. For privacy sake I have changed my name to Adeola and my husbands name to Adebisi.
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We met on campus at a respectable University. I was young and foolish. You see my father is very wealthy and all wealthy kids go I am very spoiled and extremely frivolous with money. I am not boasting about my exploints I am merely saying that I spend money. There is nothing wrong with saying this.

When my mother dropped me off on campus I was told to go meet some uncle that would look after me. At the time I was thinking this Uncle would be one old baba that I had to answer to. So I didn't go for a few days but merely got accustomed to living on campus.

After a week I was downstairs in the commons area when I recognized this guy that used to work in my father's company. I was surprised to see him and ran up to him and we began gisting. That night when I was talking to my mother she said "oh that is the uncle I wanted you to go meet". At the time we met he was very handsome. He had a very nice smile and a very Nigerian "akatarized" voice. I fell in love

So began our romance.

We hid our relationship from our families and friends because he was really much older than I and my father had threatened to disown me if I mess up my life one more time.

He taught me many things: how to manipulate my father for money, how to lie and sneak out of the dormitories, how to make love. You see he was my first and for the better part of the semester I spent it in his house. I slept, ate, bathed and cooked in his place. I was never where I should have been.

Towards the end of my first year, I got pregnant. He became furious with me. He thought I was trying to trap him. Unbeknown to me he was secretely seeing another girl in Lagos, and he had another girlfriend in America that he was seeing who had promised him immigration. He was a serial dater. I was in love and quickly went and had an abortion. Our romance continued until his girlfriend took him to America. I was upset. So I found a way to follow him there.

My father guaranteed that if I graduated with honors I could go and do my master's in the States. So I took my two left legs and came to the States, to the same university in the area where he was living. Apperently he was yet to marry this girl. She had brought him in on a fiance visa. I am a citizen and was taken to do University in Nigeria because I was misbehaving in my school here in the states. So on arriving I contacted him and of course our romance kicked off again.

I quickly took him to court and helped him file his papers for citizenship without my father being aware of it. I had lied to him about the cost of tuition and since I have a trust fund I used that as a back up for income. Now that I think about it I realize that he only used me and I foolishly allowed him. What an idiot I am.

Two years into this fake marriage, we let the cat out of the bag. He went and formaly asked for my hand in marriage from my father. My father was excited. He knew this Adebisi was a good man and everyone in our family embraced him. Of course during the two years of the phony marriage I had had two more abortions. The second one I did without him even knowing I was pregnant and the last one I did because he was furious that I would get pregnant while we are still sorting out our lives.

I realize foolishly now that I should have ended the relationship.

I visited a friend of mine in London the summer before our wedding. While I was in Europe he was busy fornicating with a whole bunch of women at the encouragement of his family. You see they are all oppurtunists. They knew that my father who is a Minister in Nigeria would give me anything I wanted, and they were willing to use thier brother as the hose to suction out money from my family.

After much talk with my friends in London, I realized that I was a fool and tried to back out of the whole affair. I escaped to my family house in Lagos that was when catacata bust. Adebisi lost his mind. He began spreading rumors about me and threatened to tell my family about my promiscous life with him and the abortions I had had if i didn't marry him. Afte much threatening and coerccion, I was so scared and being only 22 at the time I quit school, and married him in Lagos in September of 1999

From the day I said I do to this day it has been horrible.

His family has done nothing but live in my families home. I had two twin girls the first year of marriage. He was furious and called me all sorts of names. He said that my body was worth nothing because my father didn't collect a bride price. He lied to me about his age. I found out his true age from his birth certificate when I was packing our stuff to our new home. He is now 48. I am 31. He was basically dating me while he was an old baba posing as a young guy. As I am telling this story three of his brothers are living in our family house in Lagos. His useless disrespecting sister is staying with us and not working. We (Adebisi and I) are paying her tuition and fees to attend Howard University. This stupid girl came home at 2:00am telling me she went all the way to Baltimore for some Nigerian Festival two months ago. What did you wear to festival omoge? Short skirt with high heels. If the girl bent over you could see her but and all her goodies. She forget underwear?

And my husband, he doesn't work any more. From one stupid venture to another. With his two masters (One in Agriculture from UI and one from Penn State) he has yet to establish anything worthwhile. Meanwhile the house, car, and even the shoes he was wearing come from my trust fund.

As for our three children (I finally had a boy) they are with me. After my confrontation with Tinuke (that is her real name) and her slapping me and my husband not doing anything. After the council that their parents called on my head and started insulting me as a disrespectful wife and him not doing anything. And after he slapped me last month on top all the things he is eating from my hand i left!

I took my kids and rented an apartment in D.C.

Now we are safe. Do you know he hasn't once called to see his children? All he wanted to know today when he called was when the check from my trust would be coming so he can buy some new studio equipment for the rap group his brother wants to start.

Omo fashi that yans! I routed my money to my own account. Since I am Catholic and my family doesn't believe in divorce, I am stuck in a fruitless marriage.

So my own lesson to you young ladies:Watch out oh! Dick surpass dick! If he is giving it to you good, just remember that if he doesn't respect your body enough to treat you good when you are not on your back, he will never love you.

Well, I am relocating to Houston come January, start a new life without him. Some girls will not be fortunate like me to have thier fathers money but imagine the embarrasment. As old as I am...

Posted by Passion :: 3:11 AM :: 11 comments