The first day that we got intimate, he asked me to give him something of mine that would remind him of me and bring back memories of our first intimacy. I was confused. “Something of mine? What could that something be?” Gilbert said, “Your pant or your waist beads. Any of these could serve the purpose.”
Two things came to my mind; “Maybe he’s going to use it to cast a spell on me, or someday, when the relationship is over, he might use it to blackmail me. The latter wasn’t likely so I got my mind fixed on the former. I told him, “We’ve known each other for close to three months. Whenever you want to see me, I come around or you know where to find me. I don’t think you’ll need to rely on memories when you have unrestricted access to me.”
He insisted. He talked me into trusting him. I looked into his eyes and saw how consumed he was about his request. I told him, “You choose one. Panty or the beads?” He said, “Panty.” I said, “I would give you the beads.” Right there, I got up and rolled the beads off my hips, folded it in my palm, and handed it over to him. All of a sudden, there was this spark of joy in his eyes as he placed the beads in his drawer. I told him, “I hope you don’t do anything silly with it.” He said, “It’s in good hands. When I miss you, I’ll put it around my hand or sniff around it to feel your presence next to me.” “You must be obsessed with me,” I said. He answered, “When you love someone as deep as I love you, you can only be obsessed.”
One year later, we’ve had an awesome relationship. I was that girl who always thought no man could make me forget my ex, Reggie but this guy came along and made me see the difference between being loved right and being loved by the right person. The two are different. Alex loved me right but he wasn’t the right person. In the end, when his family decided that I wasn’t the girl he should marry due to my family background, he backed off and never thought twice about me. I used to think of him. I thought we didn’t have the closure we deserve. I called him and even when I was in love with another man, I still waited to hear him say that he loved me again. That never happened until Gilbert came along to keep my heart at peace and my mind off Reggie.
One year with him was the best year I ever had with a man. Talk about being there. Talk about placing your needs beyond his and everyone. Talk about passion and deep knowledge in lovemaking. Talk about dreams and talk about kindness. He has it all. So when the time came that I should take him home to meet my parents, I did without thinking twice about it. My dad and mom were receptive and advised us to stay faithful till the end. Two months later, I met his parents too. I met his siblings and to date, her junior sister is my best friend. Gilbert did nothing wrong. All he did was to be the man I’d always wanted to live and grow old with.
We had dated for three years. Gilbert comes to spend the night in my house and my parents were okay with it. That was how far our relationship had gone—to the level, even our parents saw us as a married couple. One morning, he had spent the night with me and leaving for his house when my dad called him; “Young man, isn’t it about time you approached me with marriage discussions?” He laughed shyly. He said, “We are so close. It wouldn’t be long till you hear from me.”
Yes, we’ve had marriage discussion. The only thing left was to put a date to it. There was nothing standing in our way. He had a good job and I was in a very good profession. We started considering dates. I said, “it should happen on my birth month. Let’s ensure that.” He said, “Then November it is.” November was only 10 months away. Five months to our wedding, Gilbert rented a new place—a place befitting a man getting ready to marry. One weekend we started packing his belongings to his new house. I picked the lightweight stuff while he concentrated on lifting the heavy stuff. I saw a little box tapped at both ends. I reached for it and placed it under my armpit while picking other pieces of stuff. I didn’t see where he jumped from.
All of a sudden he was standing right behind me and was pulling the box out of my armpit.
The zeal and eagerness with which he pulled the box said something to me; “There’s something in the box he doesn’t want me to see.” He placed the box on his lap while he sat next to the driver. When we got to the new place, he still held on to the box until we finished offloading his belongings. I had to stay behind while he goes back with the driver to bring the rest of the stuff. All of a sudden the box was no longer in his hand. When they left, I started looking for the box. I was eager to see what was in the box that he had to pull it away with such eagerness.
Few minutes after searching, I came face to face with the box. It took diligent searching to find where it was hidden. I carefully removed the tape on top of the box, opened it, and saw two bulgy black poly bags in the box. I opened the first one and it contained waist beads of different colours and shapes. I counted them—they were 17. I opened the other bag and it was full of ladies’ panties. Also different colours, sizes, and shapes. I started counting them. That was when I realised some inscriptions on the panties. I watched closely. They were dates. Apparently the dates the affairs happened. In all, the panties were 37 and out of the 37, 11 were dated after I’d met him. I went back to the beads. They had no dates and mine was not part. My heart started racing. My mind began thinking crazy thoughts. Thirty-seven plus 17,54
Fifty-four women? Did he use condoms? Why is he still keeping these things? He smells all these things to keep the women close? What kind of fetish is that?”
I taped the box again and placed it back where I took it. I was monitoring his movement when he came in. He went to where he kept the box and checked if it was there. He then looked at my face and smiled. I coiled. I was still shivering on the inside, still thinking of what I just saw. When I got home I gave it more thought. You know your man isn’t a virgin but you’re still okay. Knowing the number of women he had slept with put your heart on ice, waiting to freeze. Fifty-four kept ringing in my ears all day.
In the evening I told him on the phone, “Can we put the wedding on hold?” He got anxious and uneasy. He asked, “Why? Why would you suggest such a thing?” I said calmly, “The panties and beads in the box, I counted them; 17 beads. Thirty-seven panties. Fifty-four in all. Eleven of the panties were dated after we had met.” He got frozen on the phone. Long silence. He said, “Can you come around so we talk about it?” I asked, “Mine wasn’t in it. Where is it?” He kept mumbling. He wasn’t making any sense.
Two weeks later, he was still not making any sense. All he said was, “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” Maybe he had it at the back of his mind that I would come back to him after a while so he gave me some space and that space was all I needed to think carefully and make a decision. After a week he called, I told him we couldn’t be together. I told him I couldn’t get the ghost of those panties off my head and it was better we let go.
To date, my parents don’t know the reason we broke up because it was so embarrassing for me to tell them what happened. I keep changing the story of our breakup. They are not kids. They know I’m lying but the most important thing is I’m happy now. When the time is right, I will have another go at love and see what happens. By all means, I will love again so I could be loved right by the right person.
—Doreen