I have been heart broken, I will never love again. Perhaps, True love were predestined. Emeka said “He wasn’t into me anymore,”. I cried my eyes out. Emeka had played my heart like a ball and served it on a dirty plate for me to chew. I wasn’t bitter that he left, That Emeka wasn’t interested anymore didn’t surprise me either, I was angered and pained by the reasons he gave. One of his reasons was” my breast was sagged and he no longer finds me attractive”. Eventhough, I pleaded with him that I was going to go under the knife. (Breast Surgery).

As I went home reminiscing about what had transpired, I realized that Emeka. My Baby! was part of the reason, because he inarguable was fond of the two big oranges on my chest.  Another reason he gave was that I was too skinny for his liking. I tried as much as possible to justify his actions but none was forthcoming.  My task every day could drain the size of an elephant in seconds. After a very long tiring day at work, Only to retire home, do the laundry, as Emeka preferred his clothes to be hand washed, I recur him always saying “Washing  Machines ruin clothes”. He likewise insisted that ‘yam flour’ had preservatives and not suitable for a man of his caliber; I had no choice than to pound yam every evening after work as it turned out to be his favorite.

Yet! I never complained, I was supposed to be an “African woman”. It was a taboo for a woman to complain about her relationship, I was supposed to suck in every maltreatment and act strong. Emeka wasn’t even my husband yet, he promised to marry me 5 years ago. Emeka found great delight sitting at the orange “Sofa” with his bowleg twisted like a “Leprosy leper”.   Watching every single premiere league, at noon, he switched into porn. He had ample time as against me who worked from 8am -9pm though my salary was much higher.

During the late hour, he will pounce on my pussy as if he was meant to die there, he will ‘forcefully’ spread my legs apart, not minding if I was in the mood, entrusting his very small, stretched and short “cucumbers” into my “apple juice” (Dick, Pussy). Each time I screamed from the excruciating pains, it aroused him and when I said ‘Stop!’ that’s when he speeds up in his horse ride.  Sex wasn’t a thing of pleasure for me, when I hear people fantasy about it, I definitely knew it was being exaggerated.

Emeka had played with my emotions, we were both from the Eastern part of Nigeria, he played with my heart more than Michel Obi on the peach. My emotions had been butchered. 2months later, I heard he was married. I almost committed suicide but for my aged grandma, I survived. I fell in love with my job and started blogging in my spare time, all related to relationships. In less than 3weeks, I was given double promotions, in my boss words” You had an amazing performance in the last 3months, you no longer sleep at work with a heavy smile,”. I was given a personal driver and a new house. My driver was called “Femi” he had very funny tribal marks like he fought with a tiger. He was from the Western part of Nigeria, neat and articulate. He wasn’t my specs physically, no broader shoulder and short.

One faithful day, Femi had drove to my house to pick me up from work but I was drunk, I drank to stupor as I recounted all my failed relationships. Femi placed me on the bed, prepared ‘Amala and Ewedu”. I munched it, I was too hungry and besides it had a strange sweet tastes. I was too ashamed to look at him the next morning. He firmly greeted me but shame won’t let me respond. With time, I started noticing little kinds about him and in no time, my broken hearts was amended to love again. He was a Master degree holder but when the job weren’t forth coming he had to work as a Driver, with my help he secured a large paying job and bought me my first car; that night we had sex and I got an orgasm, I enjoyed every bit of the night as he caressed all my womanly parts. We got married and blessed with 3 kids. Love breaks protocols.