Sweet Poison

Love is sweet poison. Those who love know it is pain, but still love all the same. Have you ever had an affair with a married man? Three excuses you are likely to hear from a married man  are,  first, I am not happy with my wife, second, I never have sex with my wife, or more subtly it’s been long since I made love to my wife, and third, I still stay married to my wife because of the children.

                Am I right or not? Bet a million dollars, I am. Worse still, as regards the second excuse, you get the shock of your life when eight months later you see his wife pregnant. You then ask, but I thought you didn’t…? We know the question you are about to ask him. Forget it. Don’t bother. He is never going to leave his wife. You are just another pawn on his chessboard, unless you are too naïve you can’t see, or too unrealistic to reconcile with the truth, even if it stares you in the face every day.

What prompts me to reflect on love and infidelity between wives, lovers and husbands is a movie, titled Don’t Move I saw some time ago. It was about a surgeon whose daughter laid critical ill in the hospital. While waiting to hear good or bad news about his daughter’s fate he had time to reflect both on his marriage to his beautiful, but cruel, wife on one hand, and his violent relationship with his poor girlfriend, on the other. I could not but marvel at the burst of emotions between these three people, particularly the man in the centre of the whole drama, who had to swing from one woman to the other; practically torn between his duty and the girlfriend he professed to love but ended up hurting and indirectly being responsible for her death. That was a movie. But the contents are factual and reflect true-life drama.

I have been pondering on the movie since, marvelling at how very spot-on it is about husbands and their lovers, or perhaps wives and their lovers. Hence, no coincidence that I chose to buy Jane Elizabeth Varley’s Husbands and Other Lovers at the Duty Free Lounge of Heathrow Airport to keep myself occupied while waiting for a Virgin Atlantic flight back to Lagos. It was fun reading it. I laughed, I was angry at times, and other times I shook my head in agreement to some of the logic of lovers’ arguments, comments, and statements, while reflecting on the emotions of the characters, though fictitious, which still touched my very soul.

I am fascinated by people having affairs. They could be husbands and their lovers or wives and their lovers. Forgive me choosing such a topic knowing that infidelity is a taboo in our society. Taboo or not, the truth of the matter is that extramarital affair is happening and on the increase. We can either ignore, or pretend it does not exist, or admit it exists and talk about it. I present you with a few scenarios below, and see if one or two look familiar to you. Do you fit in anywhere?

Rachel is a forty five year-old widow with two kids and searching for the second Mr Right. Well, you may be lucky, but then you may never find what you are looking for. Ideally, you want a bachelor of forty seven to fifty years, rich enough to take care of you and your kids. You may still be fertile enough to give him another two, if he so desires, but you silently hope he does not, as ideally (that word again) he should love your children as his. Of course, you also expect his mother to love and accept you, right? An alternative, perhaps more realistic, may be to settle for another widower, with four children of his own, or a divorcee who has lost custody of his children to his wife.

Unfortunately, there is no luck finding the aged bachelor, or a widower or a divorcee. What is on offer is a married man, happily married but he may tell you otherwise, the only one that comes close to fitting the bill. Handsome, comfortable, great sense of humour, likes what you like; so you tell yourself.

Eve, a single thirty six year-old woman who feels life is passing her by. So you are so desperate for love and to be loved you always, and I mean always, get carried away by the first man that shows the slightest interest in you. You go along with him, refuse to ask whether he is married or not, or even when you summoned the courage to do so, you tell yourself what the heck. Your usual line is, ‘Let me catch my fun. I need someone to take care of me and pay my bills.’  The guy takes you out a couple of times, has sex with you, and never calls you again, despite the fact that you make an effort to call him.

 ‘Hello Joe, what happened? I waited for your call…’

‘I am sorry, my dear Eve, been busy at the office. I will call you later.’

 That was the last time you heard from him. You wallow in self-pity for another two months, praying that God will bring the right man to your doorstep. Have you learnt your lessons? Oh no, not yet. Not too long after, you met another hunk. Married? Yes.

‘But why another married man?’

‘Those are the ones that come my way.’

‘What if this one uses and dumps you like the previous ones?’

‘I won’t give my heart this time. I will be careful.’ So you said after the first and the second disaster…

Ngozi is a single twenty four year-old, still eligible by all standards, but just prefers the married men. Why?

‘I like the mature men. They are so considerate, so kind, and very rich. In any case, he has promised to tell his wife about us.’

‘Tell her what?’

‘That he is in love with me and wants a divorce.’

‘But you have been going out with him for two years, now. When is he going to tell his wife?’

‘He said he would tell her at the right time.’

‘Please, stop fooling yourself. The truth of the matter is that, he will never leave his wife for you.’

Those are three different people who yearn for love, but, sorry to say this, from the wrong people. What you get is not love, but lust and passion with some flowery romantic phrases, which don’t in actual fact make much sense when you really sit down to assess the whole relationship. For instance, you want to go on a date with the married man, you have to do a lot of research to pick where to go, what to do, and when to do it. You lose spontaneity because you are afraid of being caught by your lover’s friends or relatives, or his wife. Reflect on this scenario, you call your married lover:

‘Hello honey,’ you said.

 ‘Hello sweeteeheartee,’ he drools on the phone.

You both go on whispering sweet things into each other’s ears, until suddenly you hear another “Hello darling” on the other line. The wife has come into the room. What happens? The loving romantic tone of your lover’s voice changes to a more official, curt monosyllabic responses.

 ‘So let me know how things go at the office, and remember to book the appointment with the MD of the Union Bank.’

Before you could recover from your shock, he has hung up. You confront him the next day. ‘What came over you?’

 ‘Sorry my angel, that was the wifey.’ He gave you that “melt-my-heart” smile.

Have you also noticed that he chooses his own time to say, “I love you” to you or return yours? Mark my words, on days that he refuses to respond with “I love you” to yours, the wife is around. When you insist he should say “I love you” back. His reply:

‘You know I do.’

‘I want you to say it,’ you insist.

 ‘Why are you trying to embarrass me?’ He asks.

‘Since when has saying “I love you” become a cause for embarrassment?’

Are you getting my point? He dares not return your “I love you” when the wife is around.

To make matters worse, his friends know you and like you because they too engage in the same ex marital affairs. Hence you become one of the “boys”. When it comes to sneaking to hideouts with the “boys” to meet their girlfriends, you are invited. You feel great because you flatter yourself his friends have accepted you.

But the bombshell hits you when your married lover’s aged mother dies. There is a grand burial ceremony. There is a roll call of who’s-who in the society present. A celebrated “juju” musician is playing. Of course, you are invited. You get there thinking you will be the centre of attention. But to your surprise, you sit alone. What’s happening? Your married lover is with his wife, close relatives and friends. Even the ‘boys’ are in his circle with their wives. To rob salt on injury, the musician starts to play “No rival” song. In other words, you are an outsider and no rival to his wife. Suffice to say, you are Miss Nobody. When your lover’s wife gets up to dance, you almost choke with envy to see your supposedly darling boyfriend embracing and showering affection on his spouse. As a matter of fact, no one paid you any attention, except when your lover sneaks round the back of the marquee to chat for five minutes, shoving a bundle of crisp naira notes into your hands as your share of the ‘naira rain’, because he wouldn’t dare exhibit such generosity on the dance floor. This kind of action will raise eyebrows and guests would want to know ‘your own’ in the matter. Now you are really getting my drift.

Here and now, let’s flip the coin and discuss wives and their lovers. These are the married women having extramarital affairs with other married men, or single men. You have the married big girls, who call the shots in their marriage. Their success gives them the liberty to explore more exciting terrain, and they are usually from mid-thirties to sixty-something.

Naomi, a thirty-six married woman, who married early at twenty. You already had all your children and you are bored with your husband who is committed to his work and hardly takes you out or shows a little bit of romance. On the other hand, most men you meet outside admire your beauty, great sense of achievement and falling over each other to take you out. Mind you, you do not want to leave your husband, despite his coldness to your marriage, he has his uses, but you just want to breathe some fresh air, after all, every day is a gift.

Naomi’s first admirer is equally married. He is in his fifties, but looks forty. Strong, athletic build and a fitness freak. No wonder his adorable physique is the envy of his colleagues who are already showing signs of ageing: pot belly, flabby arms, slow motion, and wearing the problems of the world on their faces. Naomi never met his wife, but heard so much from him.

 ‘Oh, my wife is just so lazy and not in to any “fitness” thing. We hardly share the same interest. She is more concerned about taking care of the house and the kids. Hardly has time for me.’ So he tells you all the time.

Naomi’s second admirer is single, fourteen years younger, which makes him twenty-two. He is in his last year as an accountant student in the University of Lagos. Probably still mama’s boy, but somehow acts matured, and of course, when he opens his mouth to speak, you get wobbly knees. His own swing? He tells you how beautiful you are. He is motivated by your success, and tells you all the girls on the campus are either too childish or go for older rich men anyway.

Naomi’s third admirer is a thirty five year-old widower, with a son. You met him during one of your international conferences. Seeing him at first glance, he looked unmarried, so you can imagine the shock when he told you he lost his wife to childbirth and has a son. He is charming and suave, and bet a lot of women are already waiting in a queue.

Maria, in her late thirties, is in and out of her marriage, but technically married with four children.  You spent the last five years most times on your own, happy in the company of your children. However, these days, that is not enough. You are beginning to yearn for a man’s touch, a man’s voice, a man’s embrace and much more. You dream every day, craving for the perfect man to come along. Who is this perfect man? Let me see, definitely not a divorcee because he must be a difficult man for his wife to have left him or he left his wife. A bachelor in his fifties? If there is any such man, you will need to be a qualified world-class counsellor, or psychiatrist, to get this one out of his confirmed bachelor status. A widower? A chance in a million, but if there is such luck, probably has grown up kids who refer to you as daddy’s ‘girlfriend’. A married man? You can’t be serious. You have had that experience in the past. Never lasts and you always are the loser. A married man would feel pity for you, which is all he will offer. His yarn…

‘Oh I am so sorry. It must be terrible to be on your own. You still have years ahead of you, so it is not too late to fall in love again. You need someone to talk to and take care of you.’ Mind you, and they just mean “only you”.

He may have promised to provide for your children, pay their school fees, help you with monthly groceries and other basic things, but forget it, they are just sweet promises. After all he has his own family to take care of, so how come you expect him to manage yours with his? Let’s face it; his family has priority over yours. He may actually perform in the first two months, but thereafter, he begins to give you excuses and the calls get fewer. His mother, brothers and sisters start to remind him the distastefulness of having an affair with a married woman, even if separated, who is mother to four children. In the long run he goes back to his wife. Simple!

Yinka, a twenty five year-old married to a man of sixty five with three wives already in his stable? He had to prove his virility by marrying someone pretty and young. And of course, why did you marry him Yinka? Love?

‘Nah! Though I like him a bit. But I love the luxuries he bestows on me. He pampers me from head to toe. He even cuts my toenails sometimes. He practically worships me.  He calls me his “sweet angel”. When we go out together, I feel embarrassed by the looks I get from people. The women look at me with disgust, while the men shake their heads with pity. Our intimate relation is nothing to write home about. He gets tired too quickly or needs heavy petting to get him going, which of course puts the spontaneity off our sex lives, as we have to plan for every move. Rather tiresome and still childless after a year,’ you lament.

So you go get yourself a little bit on the side, a younger man, a bachelor, but who has a fiancée, is your date. You sneak out now and then, spin your husband some stories about seeing a girlfriend, or your parents, to meet your ‘heartthrob’. Things are going on well, and you seem to be falling in love, until one day you went to your young lover’s apartment to find a stunning nineteen-year-old girl lying comfortably on his settee.

‘Oh, hello, I’m Yinka. Are you Kunle’s sister? He told me about his sister.’

‘No, I’m not his sister. I am his fiancée. My name is Rose.’

‘Where is Kunle?’

‘Hang on a minute,’ Rose replies and shouts ‘Kunle, Kunle.’

‘Yes, Rose sweetheart.’

 ‘You have a visitor.’

 Kunle comes through the door, gasps, and stutters.

 ‘Hello Yinka. Good to see you.’

You wait for him to introduce you and confirm. He does.

 ‘Yinka, meet Rose, my fiancée, Rose meet Yinka, the lady I told you about.’

 ‘Told her what precisely?’ You hit back with venom.

 ‘Oh, just that you are my friend, but a pity that you have to get stuck in a love-less marriage with a man thrice your age.’

‘And did you tell Rose we’ve been having sex together regularly?’

 ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I don’t hide anything from her. What are you upset about?’

 ‘What am I upset about? You led me on, told me nice things, and gave me hope, now you are introducing your fiancée to me?’

‘But you never once asked about me how I feel. You talk all the time about yourself and your marriage. Each time I tried to tell you about my life, you interrupt and continue your household story,’ Kunle said.

Now you are really getting my drift. Love is sweet poison.

 Story Credit: Waving in the Wind, by Bisi Abiola (Outskirtspress, Colorado, 2014)

Photo Credit: Creative Commons.