Torn pages

THE STORY OF SUDDEN CHANGE – A LOVE HEARTBREAK UNION

I’m not really a lover girl, but when i love, i love so deep. I can go any length to please you and make you feel loved. I can be very understanding to whatever situation i find you in. I could give my last cent to make you smile or i could dance in the rain to fall ill if that would make you fine.

I can do crazy things for love. But then, i always fall in love with the wrong persons. It’s either they are not good for me, or I’m not good for them, or they are too good for me, or I’m too good for them. There must always be an imbalance.

I’ve dated the ugly one with a good heart, but he felt he wasn’t attractive enough to be presented to my family. I’ve dated the extremely and dangerously handsome one, but he felt my beauty wasn’t a match to his, so he cheated.

I’ve dated the confused one, but he said he doesn’t want to drag me into his messed up life. I’ve dated the seemingly perfect one, but he said his mum needed a perfectionist like her.

I’ve dated the fat one, and he complained of me being skinny around the waist that he feels like he holds a toothpick whenever he holds me or fear of crushing me while we make love.

I’ve dated the slim one, and he felt insecure that I’ll one day leave him because of his lankiness. I can go on and on and on. It feels like my every turn of love ends up making me more miserable. It seems I’m cursed.

They all start wooing me with sweet words of affection, making unrealistic promises, and making me feel like the world was under my feet in the pyramid of love. But after a few rounds of s*x, they begin to create reasons that are irrelevant just so they could leave me. I once decided to take a break from dating, s*x, and heartbreak. I succeeded for a few months, healed up a little bit, until Desmond came my way and then left me crumbled.

I met Desmond in a museum, the day it was opened for art exhibition. He wore a very fitted grey suit and combed his hair in a neat fold, that his full reflection could be outlined on his well polished shoes. He looked breathtaking just as i looked stunning. I was in my glow season and it was really irresistible for any man. He walked up to me, offering me a glass of wine which i politely took.

That started our conversation. He was an average business tycoon, who tries to get clients by looking expensive, as he says ‘dress the way you want to be addressed. If you want to be seen as rich, then dress rich’.

We went for drinks a few times and that tightened the chances of us getting into a relationship.I wasn’t too rich per se, but i was well to do, comfortable and satisfied. I just needed a man to love and, if possible, get married to before i finally turned 31. And the Desmond, after weeks of talking and getting to know each other, finally seemed like a right fit. So we dived into it.

The first 3 months in the relationship was like a trip to heaven. He made me feel good. We went on vacations, trips, dinner dates and shopping. Most especially, the s*x was beautiful. He taught me a lot of new s*x positions and that spiced up our moments in bed. I was always thrilled whenever he complimented my body. He was good looking with his clothes on, but fascinating with his clothes off. We had lot of fun and conversations, spent quality time together discussing business, life and future.

He seemed like the man I’ll get married to. Indeed if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. My entire castle of dreams came crumbling the moment i told him i was pregnant. Not just pregnant, but also HIV positive. How? You may ask.Desmond had other s****l affairs with ladies i knew nothing about. He was so cunny in his dealings.

It turned out he started sleeping with big successful women just to get contracts from their husbands, sleep with ladies who were attracted to him because of his ‘little’ money, s*x anything in skirts, and then come back to me with flowers. He had been doing these for months and i was obviously in the dark about these.

I did remember those nights where he would come to my house wearing the scent of a lady’s perfume and when i probed him, he kept saying, “clients just love being around me, it’s part of the job, yunno”. And i decided to stop asking questions because i really wanted to trust him, or should i say, i didn’t want to lose him? Breaking the news of my situation to him, he gave mixed expressions.

A happy sad one. He looked at me and asked, “who have you been sleeping with?”. I looked at him with a question mark written all over my face. Was he joking? Like what sort of question was that? “Desmond?”

I woke up feeling pains all over me. I noticed a sharp smell of spirit and hydrogen peroxide in the air. I could hear voices and i felt something flowing through my veins. I was in the hospital. How exactly did i get here? Where is Desmond? Who brought me here? Series of questions rushed through my mind and i couldn’t seem to find a good answer.

A nurse came in to check on me and i was told i was rushed in here by a man, Desmond. I asked where he was and she said he left already.I stayed in the hospital for a few days, being checked on daily by the nurses and being consoled for the loss of my baby. I couldn’t cry or give any emotions to how i felt. Desmond came to pick me up the next day and i was taken to his house. He began to explain how i fell and he tried helping me but i stood and hit myself against a wall, after which i passed out. Hitting myself against a wall? Like really? He couldn’t come up with a better lie. The nurse had told me i was a victim of domestic abuse, and Desmond was the culprit.

Yea, he was a cheat and a woman beater!Days after i was sure i had recovered from the miscarriage, which seemed pretty fast because Desmond was doing everything to cover his acts of abusing me by buying me flowers and taking me for a wardrobe change. I saw his efforts and decided to forgive him even if he never accepted his faults.We continued the relationship, going for HIV tests and getting medications. I went for therapy to get over the loss of my baby and also to see how i can now live with the disease.

I thought that life will continue being good to me, not until Desmond decided to pay my good for evil a second time.Coming back home drunk isn’t a strange thing for Desmond. It was becoming his second nature. We weren’t married but staying with him for months made me grow to endure and adapt to the smell of alcohol over time. But this very day, he came back with his friends, about five of them.