Dear Ojiugo,

One of the rookie mistakes I made while dating my ex-husband was telling him my body count. I’m writing this so young ladies will learn. 

Way before we got married, I had a hoe phase at university. Bear in mind that I hadn’t met my ex at this point. For him, I was his first. He’d always wanted his first to be his last. That was a promise between him and his God. 

At the time we met, I was having a religious break from sex, so the arrangement was perfect. He knew I wasn’t a virgin. I told him.  I should have stopped there. But he wanted to know everything. He prodded nd prodded. Even with his prodding, I didn’t paint the whole picture. Anyways, he filled in the blanks himself. He told himself the version of the story that best suited him. He probably exaggerated a bit too. The point is, I didn’t owe this man loyalty for a time in my life before we met.

It didn’t seem like a problem, except for when he casually mentioned how he felt like a novice while I was “the pro”. Please, don’t ask me what that means. It was absurd when I heard it too.

My aunt had warned me of these sexual dynamics. She said, “It never ends well when an inexperienced young man gets married. For men, there is something about the first sex. It’s like the gates of temptation open for him. Young lady, it is better to allow him get it out of his system than go on that ride. Very few marriages survive that”.

In my defence, when he proposed, I told him to go be with other women. If our relationship survived, then we were meant to be. He said, “It is you or no one else”. I believed him. 

Once we’d gotten over the first phase, it was a relief to find that we were actually a match in sexual energy. And unlike what my aunt predicted, he had eyes only for me. How delusional. That relief only lasted for a year. Now that I think of it, it may have been shorter. He may have been holding himself or practising in little ways. I can never know for sure.

One evening, barely six months into our marriage, I received a call from a young lady. She told me she was my husband’s mistress. She wanted me to know. 

I died on that spot. 

That night, he came home, ignorant of what his mistress had done. As usual, I served his meal. I let him bathe and get into bed before asking him why.

Why disrespect me like that?

What assurances had he given her that gave her the impetus to display such brazen insolence?

Of course, he said he was sorry. I felt his absolute remorse (at least I thought I did). He said he never meant to hurt me. He just wanted to know what being with another woman felt like. Can you imagine that? Cheating out of curiosity.

My befuddled mind was still processing his words when he added that he did it because I owed him, and now we were even. 

Apparently, all this while, he nursed the need to sleep with other women to feel some sort of equality.

Oh! He also said he knew I’d understand.

I actually understood why he did it. I would have told him I forgave him on the spot, had he not added the extra expectation. That’s to tell you how much he knew me.

With time, I got to know that my forgiveness meant very little to him. His remorse was a performative facade. Whether I forgave him or not, he was going to make himself happy by continuously exploring the wonders of adultery.

But that’s not why our marriage ended. That was only the first in a retinue of other things that happened and made the marriage untenable. 

For the young women around me, I am now the aunt telling them about sex and marriage. The same way my aunt warned me, I say to them:

Don’t make the mistakes I made. 

Then I add, “Lie! Lie if you have to. Subtle lies, intentional lies. Lie! Lie because your life depends on it. If it means tucking away that memory in a safe corner of your mind lest it is found out, that is what you must do. Your life is what you make of it. You make it by crafting your perception. And perception is everything. Guard it, because a lot depends on it”.

My aunt did not tell me about perception. Perhaps she never faced a problem it caused. I have. So, you don’t have to.

You must be almost pure in the eyes of the man who marries you. Though we live in the same world, men and women don’t experience it the same; you must know that. 

A little unveiling here and there to signal capacity, but never fully telling. A wise woman must know when to be cunning to get what she wants.

These men can never take what they dish.

Dear Ojiugo is a series of pieces of writings and voice recordings I have received from previously married women.

Names have been changed for privacy, and permission was granted to publish/share the stories here. Any resemblance to an individual, living or dead, is pure coincidental.

Bits or large portions of the stories have been  edited for brevity and clarity.

If you have a similar story to share, you can reach me via mail: [email protected]