Just two months after dating, Danny asked me to marry him. I brushed him off. He said, “I’m serious. I want to get this thing done with and be free.”
I looked at him and his countenance. He looked serious. I told him, “Hey, there are two things I don’t joke about within life; Death and marriage.
I don’t go about telling people that someone is dead when indeed the person is alive. The same way I won’t ask someone to marry me when I know I’m joking.
These two are very expensive jokes. If you’re joking with me, please stop it because it’s not funny.”
He said, “I’m not joking. Is it because I didn’t go on one knee with a ring in my hand that’s why you don’t believe me? I’m ready. Let’s get married.”
We were standing outside. The sun was almost setting. I looked around and found a short wall on the left of where we were standing.
I walked toward the wall and sat down. He came close. He said, ‘I’m serious.” I responded, “No I’m not ready to marry. I’m also serious.” He looked like my answer had shocked him. Now he was the one asking if I’m serious. I repeated myself, “There are two things I don’t joke within life.
Death and marriage. I’m not joking.” He sat next to me and we were quiet for a while. He asked, “So when?” I told him, “I will be ready when I get the hunch that it’s the right time for us to get married.” He said calmly, “Whenever you’re ready, I would be ready too.
Two months. Just two months of being together, he was asking for marriage. I felt it was too early. There were questions I had to ask.
I didn’t want to ask him straightforward and get an answer from him. I wanted to know the answer to his actions.
From his own words and from how he does what he said he would do. Those things take time to know. I don’t know how long but definitely it doesn’t take just two months to know it all. I wanted enough time.
Time to ask questions day after day and get the answers from his actions. Two months is just the flowery stage of a relationship. Nobody goes wrong.
Nobody says the wrong thing. Nobody gets angry. And nobody’s real character comes to the fore at the flowery stage of a relationship. Hence the request for more time.
He took it the wrong way. He thought I was having doubts about him or he thought I was killing time with him just to wait for the right man. He started pulling away from me slowly.
I realised it and I asked questions. He was frank with me so I explained things to him in clear language. We did a year together and did two years together. I found him trustworthy.
He had his shortcomings. He had his red flags but those were things that wouldn’t eat into the fibre of any relationship. They were the little issues every human has. The “but” that comes after the good. I got the hunch and the hunch said, “He’s the one.”
I told him I was ready. He was happy but then requested a year to prepare. I said, “Ok. There’s no rush here. Let’s prepare to get it right.” A year came. He wasn’t ready. Another year passed by, he wasn’t ready. “Wasn’t this the same person who was ready to marry four years ago? So what happened? What changed?” I posed these questions to him and he said, “When I said I was ready, I had the money and I had the right frame of mind.
Now I have the right frame of mind but the money isn’t sufficient. Just one more year and we’ll be fine. Don’t have doubts. Don’t grow worried. Just believe.”
I believed but I was cautious in my faith. Call it doubt and you may be right. But he came through a year later as he promised. Within six months, we were able to put together all the things we needed to get married.
We did the traditional wedding on a Friday morning. On a Saturday morning, “I wore my white wedding gown and he wore his black tuxedo. We held hands as the pastor prayed for a beautiful marriage for us.
When the choir sang the “Oh happy day” hymnal, it made sense to me. When they sang, “…Well may this glowing heart rejoice, And tell its raptures all abroad,” it captured the state of my heart and the state of every heart that was present.
We left the church with a happy heart believing that we were going to have a happy marriage.
And we did. For a year and a half, we’ve been largely happy. We haven’t faced any problem that we haven’t been able to solve. We’ve had our fights but we’ve always fought fair. We’ve had moments we were angry with each other but we didn’t allow our anger to get the best of us. Little issues here and there but what’s marriage without these little issues?
October 2021 was my husband’s thirty-fourth birthday. We didn’t plan to have a huge birthday party. We planned something for just the two of us. It was a simple plan; we’ll go to one of the posh restaurants in town, order meals and drinks, eat and have fun until late in the night when we’ll both come home.
Everything went according to plan except for one minor hitch. It was minor until it blew out of proportion. It’s that same minor hitch that has caused me to share this story here with you.
My husband doesn’t know how to drink. We dated for five years and had a lot of parties. He never drank anything alcoholic during those parties. But that day, on his birthday, he ordered a drink that was too much for him to handle.
It knocked him off his balance and off his clarity. He started talking anyhow and very loudly. He was drawing attention to our table so I called a taxi, held his hand to the taxi and we drove home.
In the taxi, he talked about everything. He even brought our sex life into the conversation without regard to the presence of the taxi driver.
That was when I realised the thing goes deeper than I figured.
We got home, I helped him take off his shirt and helped him to bathe. I walked next to him until he got to the bedroom and lay on the bed.
I went to shower too and came to join him in bed. He was a little bit calm when I returned so I asked him, “Have you ever done this before? I mean the state you’re in, has it happened to you before?” He screamed, “Yeah! I was with Anita.”
That was the first time in our lives that I was hearing that name. I asked, “Anita?” He answered, “Yeah, Anita. She is the only girl I’ve ever loved. That girl, she is fine roff. If you see her today, you’ll bow.
She has a thick behind and is very voluptuous. You can’t take your eyes off her when you see her. I say you go bow.”
The conversation was going sideways but the statement he made, “She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved,” caught my attention so I decided to probe further.
“What happened between you and Anita?”
“When I wanted her, she was already with someone. I pushed. She said the only reason she couldn’t be with me was because of the man she was with. Do you know one funny thing? She became single when I found you.
We were two years together but I wanted to be with her. We started talking but she later went back to her boyfriend.
Two months before our wedding, she called to tell me she was available. The way it pained me. I should have had patience. A little bit of patience and I would have ended up with her. Now, look at me.”
“So, you regret marrying me?”
“I regret not marrying Anita. I still talk to her though. I don’t know. It looks like she still likes me.”
He was dozing off as he was telling me all this.
I should have recorded him. I didn’t think the conversation would go that far, I would have had the courage to pick up my phone to record him.
I was torn between two; “Is he saying all these because he’s drunk or it’s the truth?” He woke up the next morning with a severe headache.
He walked around the house looking for a painkiller while I was in bed thinking about everything he said the night before. When we settled for the morning, I asked him, “Do you know anyone called Anita?” He was taken aback.
The first thing he did was check his phone. He asked, “Did she call last night?” I answered, “She didn’t call. You told me her story and how you regret not marrying her.” He smiled. He asked, “I said that?” I nodded my head. He said, “That’s a lie! How would I tell you all that? What for?” I answered, “You tell me.”
For days we argued. At first, he denied saying it. Later he said, “If I said it then it’s because of the situation I was in that night.
I wasn’t in control of my thoughts.” I said, “Yeah you were not in control but it doesn’t mean everything you said were lies.” We argued again. He said what he told me were lies.
They were just fabrications coming from an intoxicated mind and nothing else. I said, “Open your phone. Let me see the conversation between you two.” He got up angrily and walked away.
He shouted, “If you believe what I told you when I wasn’t in control and won’t believe what I’m telling you when I’m in control, then the problem is you. Deal with your insecurity and leave me alone.”
It’s been months but it still hurts to think about everything he told me that night. That I was a choice he made because his first choice wasn’t available doesn’t hurt me as his regret for marrying me. I want to stop thinking about it.
I want to move on with my life and pretend that night didn’t happen but the thought of that girl lurking in the dark always scares me. They talk.
The girl likes him and he likes her too. Talk about gasoline and fire. How can I rest when I know this fire can burn anytime soon.
It could even be burning, how would I know. This is what keeps me awake at night. This is what keeps me restless when he’s out and late.
When I see him whispering on his phone, it gets me worried. When I see him texting and smiling, it drives me bonkers.
Am I thinking too much? Am I creating a storm in a teacup? Or my feelings and fears are valid. What do I do next?