What name do I call mine, sheer stupidity or a victim of circumstance? Once beaten twice shy they say but I wonder the perfect adage for my state. I was a fresher at the university when I met Gbola as he came for his weekend MSc lectures when he gave me a lift from the school gate. For the next 6 months he remained on my case, asking that I be his girl. I finally gave it a chance & explained my “no sex” condition to him and the reason was made clear, I was a virgin & I wasn’t ready to lose it. The rule wasn’t a problem and he adapted well. All we did were cuddles as I managed to stop him whenever he pushed far. He works in Ibadan, being a stone throw from Ife; he visited on weekends.
8 months into the relationship, I was in my 2nd year already and had moved to town (off-campus) for ease of life and more privacy as things went fine till 2 months ago. I was surprised to see him pull over on a Wednesday evening and he claimed to be on leave. Glad to have him around, we cuddled intimately but this time, he insisted for “more”. I was scared having heard loads of stories about men, sex & pregnancy. “I’m for real”, he said. “I don’t lack sex and could get it from call girls if I wanted. I just want you”, he whispered and after so much persistence, pleas, promises, reassurance & struggles, I couldn’t fight it no more because my heart beats for him as well. He wouldn’t stop cuddling so, I let go and we made love passionately. We kissed & cuddled afterwards. Few minutes later, I stood up to pee and asked to use his phone lights as torch to see since there was no power. It wasn’t a problem because he knew I’d never check his phone, read his messages nor pick his calls. I don’t know why I chose to break the jinx and browse through his phone while at it in the loo. His inbox was clean and I clicked on sent items, only to discover the shock of a lifetime. Gbola was getting married!
The next day was registry, Friday to be his engagement and Saturday the white wedding ceremony. I almost fainted and with my jaw wide open, I rushed back to the room, shaking and went further to show him the message hoping he’d tell me it was a joke. He went quiet for seconds and went on his knees, tears rolling down my cheeks with shame written all over my face, I managed to wear my cloth, picked my bag and headed for my friend’s. The rest of the story I was told as I woke on a hospital bed the next day. I just wish someone would wake me up and tell me it all wasn’t real and that it was all a dream.
2 months since the incident and I just found out I’m with a child. The thought of Gbola in my womb is frustrating, opening my yet-to-heal wound. How do I love a child whose occurrence kept haunting? A child whose father I despise so dearly?
I don’t know what to do.