Mufty

I DIDN’T COME TO UNIVERSITY TO STUDY ALONE. I NEEDED A MAN WHO WOULD SPONSOR MY BADDIE LIFESTYLE. The moment I got my admission letter, I had two things on my mind: getting my degree and finding a man with enough money to make university life sweet for me. Forget all that suffering, borrowing money and managing small allowances. That wasn’t the university experience I had pictured for myself. I was a baddie, and I wanted to be treated like one. Nice outfits, expensive wigs, regular shopping, soft life and enough money to enjoy myself without constantly checking my account balance.

I was at my boyfriends house laying next to him in his bed. He was spooning me and one of his arms was wrapped around my waist. We were snuggling and I was kinda starting to drift off to sleep when I felt his hand move. He traced a finger up my waist, on the outside of my clothes, and up onto my side. He wiggled his finger under the hem of my shirt and gently dragged his fingers across my stomach. Teasing me, not letting his fingers go into my pants but not allowing them to go up to my chest either.

My first boyfriend was obsessed with my belly button. Often when we were alone he would crawl his fingers into my top and circle around my navel and slowly with circles dig in my navel. He would hug me from behind n poke his finger into my navel. He was quite creative and came up with ideas to play with my belly. Smudging honey over my stomach and licking it. An ice cube into my navel and watch it melt and later suck it. Poking it with a pen or pencil. Poking it with his middle finger, very hard.

I waited seven years to have a child, and my marriage almost fell apart because of it. For seven years, I watched other women become mothers while I kept wondering when it would finally be my turn. When my husband and I got married, we agreed to enjoy our marriage for a year before having children. That one year eventually became two, then three, and before we knew it, seven years had passed. At first, my husband was understanding. He constantly reassured me that we would have a child whenever the time was right. But as the years went by, his family started putting pressure on us. Every family gathering became uncomfortable. His mother would make comments about grandchildren, and some of his relatives openly suggested that he should consider another wife.

I was 16 when I found out my mum was cheating on my dad. I didn't find out from a text or a lipstick-stained collar. I found out because she forgot I was home. 
It was a Tuesday. I came home early from school with a headache. Her car was in the drive, and so was a grey Honda I'd never seen. I stood in the hallway and heard her laugh. Not her laugh with Dad. A different one, lighter, like she was someone else. 
I didn't go upstairs. I slipped back out and sat on the curb for an hour. When I finally came in, she was in the kitchen making tea. "You're early," she said. Perfectly calm. That's the part that broke me. She was so good at it.

My mum started saying it when I turned 22. "You're old enough now. Look at your cousins, they all have husbands." Every call. Every family gathering. And when I said I wasn't ready, she'd go quiet and say, "I want to see you settled before I die." 
By 24 I was tired of the guilt and the aunties looking at me like something was wrong with me. So when a man her friend recommended showed up, I said yes just to make it stop. 
He was perfect on paper. Good job, polite family, said all the right things. Mum cried happy tears at the first meeting. We were married in five months. I'd met him maybe six times, never alone.

When I was 9, he told me he'd marry me one day. We were on his father's veranda, sharing one mango. He said it like it was already decided. I believed him. After that, it became his favorite line. At 12, when I cried over a failed test: "Don't worry, you'll marry me, I'll take care of you." At 15, when a girl liked him: "She's nothing. I'm marrying you." At 18, we went to different cities for university. Every call ended the same way: "Wait for me. I'm coming back for you." So I waited. My friends said, "He's just talking." I defended him every time.

I've cheated death twice. The first time, I was 10.
The second time, I was 16. Both times, it came down to a few inches and a few people who happened to be listening. 
I was 10, goofing around on my friend's garage roof. You know how kids that age think they're invincible. Then I stepped wrong. 
I fell. Straight down. I landed flat on my back. I remember lying there, waiting for the pain. It never came. I got up and walked away without a scratch.

My friend told me an incident wherein one of her friends lied her prospective husband about her previous relationship. Things were fine within first two years of marriage but then he eventually got to know that she had relationships. There was argument and counter argument which ultimately led to separation. It’s extremely debilitating and disgusting to know when one deliberately hides something from the past.(Be it man or woman). Most don’t really hate the fact that you had relationship but the fact that you choose to hide or lie instead of being honest. If you’re honest and forth coming before marriage a guy would trust you more. Don’t hide stuff from someone who is going to be your significant part of your entire life. I myself would have no problems telling stuff about my past in future if I’m about to go for an arranged marriage.

IT IS POSSIBLE TO NEVER CONFESS AN AFFAIR YOU HAD IN THE PAST TO YOUR SPOUSE AND STILL HAVE A GOOD MARRIAGE I knew a guy who had been married 50 years, and he confessed to me that he had two nightstands and his wife never found out. He used to be a pharmaceutical sales representative and told me that a lot of affairs happen in that type of job… That lots of families have been destroyed because of the number of affairs happening in that field. Since traveling and staying in hotels are involved, sales are heavily dependent on building close, long-term, and trusting relationships with healthcare providers to secure access and maximize sales the closeness, a lot of times gets dangerous…

I once loved a man so much that I forgot I was supposed to be loved too. I stood by him through his darkest moments, sacrificed my comfort to make his life easier and supported him when he had absolutely nothing. But the moment he got back on his feet, he treated me like I was nothing. Six months into the relationship, I had already started noticing that the love wasn’t mutual. When he survived a nearly fatal car accident, I spent an entire week sitting beside his hospital bed, making sure he was okay. I also supported him financially throughout school so he could graduate without worrying about expenses.