Me & Julian

ME AND JULIAN Even without a second opinion, I have always known that I stand out. My beauty is exceptional. I have been conscious of this fact right from my early teenage years. Boys were scared of asking me out, the few that summoned up the courage to even come close always do so to be seen more as my friend than my date. Their attitude more often than not amused me. This continued into my university days, very few guys had the liver to look me in the eyes and asked to date me, I can actually count. I wasn’t at any point playing hard-to-get. I was just naturally me. It dawned on me as I approached 30 that something was a seriously amiss when my mother made a side comment about my not being ready to marry and settle down. Until then, the thought had not really crossed my mind. I had a couple of guy, very rich and well to do who hang around me and always at my beck and call but I also noticed they never broached the topic of marriage. This didn’t bother me as I was enjoying the best that life could offer. Suddenly, my mother’s comment brought home some hard realities. I started engaging in some sober reflections. I questioned my priorities. I started being mindful of the fact that I wasn’t getting younger and needed to marry and settle down. I consciously began to be nicer and more homely, reduced the number of guys I was seeing until I was left with Victor and Afam. I could have agreed to marry either of them. I was only waiting for them to pop the question. I waited, and waited, and waited. At 34, a feeling of desperation set in. Victor had married and Afam had tactically disengaged from me. I was confused, lonely and desperate. Out of the blues came Emma with all the trapping of a gentleman and swept me off my feet. He wasted no time in proposing to me and I accepted. He came to see my mom. She liked him and the introduction was set for 3 months from then, while the TM and white wedding was slated for 5 months from then. In my excitement and with the prospect of getting married, I conceived without knowing until a month to the introduction when I was already 2 months gone. I went to see Emma with the good news but got a rude awakening. Emma’s living room door was not locked indicating that he was home that Saturday afternoon and although he wasn’t expecting me, all I cared about was the excitement I felt and the smile that will lit his face when I tell him that he will be a father. It wasn’t until I ran back to the living room that I realized that my instinct had tugged at me when I initially walked in, the strange cloths lying carelessly on the sofa, the sound that I thought must have emanated from the apartment below. I was too frightened by the sight that assaulted me in Emma’s bedroom, and on his bed – our bed in a few months – that I didn’t realize that I had run all the way to the street and unconsciously flagged a taxi. “Madam you dey ok, I say where?” suddenly jolted me back to reality. I had jumped inside the taxi and stared blankly at the driver. It took me about a minute to blurt my destination to the now perplexed cabby. Throughout the ride my mind was fixed on the scene I bolted from few minutes earlier. The bedroom door was half opened when I busted in. Emma, my Emma, husband to be and his friend Tega were so into each other that for 15 seconds didn’t notice there was a third party in the room. Yes, don’t get me wrong, Tega, Emma friend’s is not a female. The days that followed were so harrowing that they could best be described as 24 hours of nightmares. I contemplated suicide twice and failed on both occasions. My family didn’t just understand what had come over me. They didn’t understand why I had to call off a wedding that meant the world to me. More frightening to them was my decision not to abort the pregnancy. After pulling myself out of my emotional stupor, I made three decisions. I was calling off the wedding, I was going to keep the pregnancy and I would not tell anyone about the scene at Emma’s house. I also fabricated two stories to fend off further enquiries into the matter. I told my family I had two recurring dreams. In one, I was continuously warned by a strange figure not to abort the pregnancy, penalty will be death. In the other, the same strange creature told me I will end up in a psychiatric hospital within a year if I married Emma. These seemed plausible to them at the moment, after all, we are Africans. You may wonder why I didn’t open up on Emma to my family and or friends. When I made up my mind to keep the pregnancy, I also decided that I was not going to let the world degrade my child’s father. I was going to keep his sexual orientation to myself. My child will grow up to know his father as a decent and caring man and that is all Julian has come to know him for. Julian is going to be four years old in a few weeks. He has been a perfect creature from birth and has grown into such a beautiful young man. He is everything to me, he means the world to me, and he sparks up the joy in me. I treasure the relationship I share with my son. Emma was supportive right from when I communicated my decisions to him. I still live with my mother. She is still convinced am holding out on her. Well, it has to stay that way. Has it been easy? It was not initially, I must say I struggled. But the break came when I forgave Emma, prayed for and set him free from my heart, no bitterness any more, no pains, I just let go. It was then I started experiencing inner joy and peace. Lately, Emma claimed he has found Jesus and has denounced his sexual fantasy. He has even started a fellowship. I am happy for him. But he now wants us back with a view to concluding the marriage process and consummating it. Well, one thing is for sure; no one is going to railroad me into another relationship, much less with Emma.

@urbanemperors

#parenting #singleparenting #singlemother #singlefather #single