By Bunmi Sofola
QUITE a number of young husbands find it difficult to transit to doting fathers. “My husband, Folami certainly changed when we had our first child,” recalled Lizzy, a 35-year-old hotel manager. “At first, he was glad to play the role of a father to our son, but it was soon obvious that the responsibility of being a responsible father was a shock—and it made him rebel.
He started going out a lot; would come home late in the night stinking of beer. The more I ranted at him to stop, the worst he became. Then one of his friends let it slip he was also on drugs.
“I was shocked. When I confronted him, he started crying. He promised to stop the drugs and women. Women? What women? He obviously thought the friend who betrayed him had spilled all the beans. I felt outraged. Betrayed. I slept in the guest room and refused to let him come with me to my sister’s wedding the next day.
I arranged for someone to stay with our son as the maid was relatively new. I seethed the entire way and through the wedding ceremony. The way I was feeling, all that sermon on love by the officiating minister was difficult to stomach, but I put on a fake smile and stood outside afterwards throwing confetti. After all, it was my sister’s big day and I didn’t want to spoil it.
“Nice to see young couple looking so happy,” the man standing next to me said. He was tall, aged thirtyish. I just shrugged but he was the talkative type. He introduced himself as Bob, and we stood making small talk as the photographer snapped the grinning bride and groom along with close family members. Bob’s wife wasn’t feeling well, so he’d come alone. He gave me a lift to the reception and flirted with me all the way.
The reception was at the hall of a very posh hotel. As 1 ran around helping out, Bob’s eyes followed me all over the place. Every time I looked his way, he’d flash me a sexy smile. Finally, I was able to plunk myself down on the table reserved for my friends and I, and Bob came over without being asked. As the table got crowded, he edged closer to me, his leg pushed against mine. He was obviously a respected guest of the groom because he left for a while and came back with a bottle of champagne. It was the dutch courage I needed as I drank some rather quickly. I was trying to steady my nerves from all that flirting.
”As the dancing became a lot more frenzied, he asked if we could go somewhere quieter. It was later I realized he’d even helped some of the guests secure rooms for the night and one of such guests just happened to be his friend. Things were moving too fast for me, but here we were in a strange room. But the chemistry between us was strong as he leapt forward to kiss me. Suddenly, we were snogging as we gave in to our passion.
I felt so alive—and so full of revenge. This was delicious payback for every thing Folami had put me through. After the sex, we both tidied up but I left the room first. I hadn’t even been missed at the reception as I joined the dancers on the floor. Bob danced a bit, ‘sprayed’ the bride and myself and whispered he was on his way. Could we meet again? I nodded as I put his card in my bag.
“I was surprised to find my husband in when I got home. He looked really rough and I felt sorry for him. When I asked if he’d eaten, he shook his head. Luckily, I brought in some food from the party and he was happy I wanted to share the food with him. I’m sorry for everything,’ he said, looking it. I told him he was forgiven, only, that doesn’t mean my new-found happiness would have to stop.
“After I called Bob, it was agreed we would be as secretive as ever. So from time to time, we meet for snatched moments of passion whenever we could find a venue. As far as I’m concerned, it is my turn to have fun—Bob’s just too good to give up!” I hadn’t fully recovered from Lizzy’s escapades when I ran into Karen and she launched into hers.
It was hard for me to keep a straight face as Karen told me the outcome of her revenge sex. She’d just split from Collins her boyfriend of six years after she’d caught him with one of her friends. “It was as if he made it a target to take all my friends to bed, and this last one was the last straw. Since I still had my flat, I moved all of my things back, and the more he pleaded with me to come back, the more determined I was to move in…” she told me.
Almost a year later, I was in the bedroom with my new man when he had to leave in a hurry. I was still savouring the good sex we just had when I saw someone looming in the doorway. It was my ex. His eyes were blazing as he flew at me, pummelling me with his fists, his face contoured with anger. I fell from the bed to the floor as I tried to wrestle free, but he still kept on beating me.
I’d been at the flat all night,’ he yelled, listening to you and that creep at it.’ I was horrified. It was then I realised he still had the spare key to my flat. But what did he want after almost a year? Though he’d begged and pleaded, I’d refused to have anything more to do with him. He obviously thought it would be a matter of time before he wore down my resolve.
“As I eventually broke free, I prayed the kitchen door would be opened—it was. I fled through it hammering at the door of the next flat. He was inches behind me as the door was opened. I bolted inside, slamming it shut before collapsing, sobbing on their settee. The wife quickly covered me with one of her wrappers and the husband discreetly disappeared—but not before having an eye-full of what was on offer!
“In the end I had to have a restraining order against him—and changed the locks on my doors with added security. For months after, I feared for my life until I learnt he’d gotten himself a new girlfriend. Poor girl, she doesn’t know the type of ‘catch,’ she’s landed!”