Why Get Married: Men Lie Women Cheat!

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