Our Message For The Fifteenth

Our message for the Fifteenth: A lady celebrates her crystal anniversary in words...

"Yeah, I have a huge amount of self-control," I stated. "Pity me, ND. I've waited for this for five years, praying you'd be ready when the time comes." He pleaded. "We agreed that you'll give me time to adjust to my current reality." "So, between April and now, you've not adjusted? Please, ND, I've married you. Don't push me away." He huffed, the mattress bouncing our lean bodies about. That was what was supposed to be our honeymoon. "I'm not going to force you. We've talked about this. I want you to willingly come to me, but it appears you're not going to."

I wondered what was wrong with simply enjoying the warmth that he had to sound irritated and snapped: "You don't like me again. Is that it? I'm lying here with you, and you're not happy?" "You're using that word 'happy' to describe my feelings. It's not a compliment." He continued as if I hadn't made a valid point. "That's not what I'm saying. Don't be difficult." "I'm not going away. Give me a few more months, please." I begged.

"And in that interval, what do I do? Admiring other newly married couples while my wife worships her virginity? I thought that watching the tutorial videos would have prepared you." "Do you mean those gross Orduga men with those awful white women acting like wild animals? I wonder whether they don't have a fear of God in them." "Those were educational videos, not porn." He started in earnest, his eyes searching his soul for any unintended error he might have committed to insisting that I saw them with him.

"Tell that to Jesus!" I exclaimed as I turned, drew the bedspread up to my chin, and closed my eyes. After a while, I heard him snore. "Oh," I said, "I thought only fat people snored!" Thus went our first post-nuptial night. As he dressed in the morning, he said, "I'm going back to my station, a hungry man. Thanks to you. When I return in November, better be ready." "Thanks." By January of 2008, I found that I had developed a deadly crush on my PG program coordinator. The guy did little to help but constantly gave me the green light. Internally, I started making plans. I loved hubby, but I wanted to experience another man, and I knew I was on an irrevocable path to destruction. I started shrinking into myself. Hubby called me one evening, "Something is not right with you. Do you care to share?"

The couch creaked; I had just returned from school and had flung my bag on the bed before joining him in the sitting room. I locked eyes with him and instantly knew he'd caught on. He merely wanted confirmation from me. "I'll tell you on the bed," I said, leading the way. He let my wearied body slide into his bosom. "Lovi, lovi," I called him. "I…I have a strong feeling about sleeping with someone from my department. I've tried to suppress it on my own, and I'm not making headway." Gently, he asked. "Is it Obioma?" "That mad guy! No way!" "Who?" "Dr. Kehinde." Hubby turned me and tenderly kissed me. When he released me, he said, "Tell me what to do to make you happy." I was surprised. He didn't shout at me or call me names.

"It's deeper than you think. It's killing me inside." "ND, dearest, you have a good heart. That it's killing you inside shows me you're fighting it. Now, I want us to fight and defeat that demon of infidelity together. What can we do?" "Pray with me." "Okay. But you need to do Something practical." "Which is?" "I think you're spending so much time with him. From tomorrow, start going to classes a little late so that you'd meet him together with your coursemates." "Okay." "Chai, my naïve ND, you'll get through this, okay?" And I got through it! Tell me, dear reader, why won't I love a man that handled such a delicate case with ease? I saved this story for our fifteenth anniversary, my LoviLovi! Fifteen hearty cheers!

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