JUST IN: True Life Story (Part 2)

Yayyyy we got the part 2 of ‘the true life story’ a reader sent in. Here goes;
So, where was I? Oh yeah, so after I got home from Accra, I was consumed by thoughts of getting it on with M. Now let’s put things into perspective here. This was me, usually a goody two shoes, defender of all married women and sworn enemy of Lagos Jezebels, contemplating, no, FANTASIZING about hoping into bed with another man and a married one at that. What can I say? I don’t know what came over me. Well actually I do. Plain ol’ lust. No excuses, no sugar coating. Please click to continue reading…

So in the weeks that followed, M and I kept at it. Talking for hours, discussing politics, music, work, food and of course, our favourite topic, US. He finally got back from London and we met up at the Palms to catch ‘Jumper’ a movie we’d both been dying to see. We arrived early and got seats one in front of the other. I tell you, as the guy was teleporting from city to city, all I could think about was teleporting into a bed with M. He must have been thinking the same way cos sent me a message during the movie that read, ” I can’t concentrate on the movie. Let’s get out of here. ” I replied saying we’d draw attention to ourselves and should wait until the film was over. My phone lit up with a sad face and “ok, drive behind me when we leave”. That evening, we ended up at some boutique hotel in VI extension. He went in, sent me the room number, I waited about 20 mins and went up to meet him. I thought it would be wild, tearing at each other’s clothes kind of sex but it was slow and gentle. No fireworks, no crazy toe curling stuff. Just sex. I remember thinking to myself, “Shit! 
Am I really doing this?” don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t unpleasant but it wasn’t what I’d imagined. Afterwards, we just lay there in each others arms talking. Before I knew it, it was getting dark and I had to head home. We hugged and he checked the hallway to make sure it was clear before I made my way out of the room. On the drive home, I tried to analyse my feelings. I felt nothing. No guilt, no excitement, nothing. It was puzzling. I was asleep by the time hubby got home from the “work thing” he’d gone for. No questions, no accusations, no queries.
M and I didn’t have sex again for months but when I tell you the affair was still on, I mean it. We spent every free moment on the phone with each other. He’d “talk me home” as we called it everyday. Gisting for hours as I made my way home through the nasty VI traffic. M was the sweetest person in the world. My favorite piece of jewellery was a bracelet with colorful stones he’d bought me. He said they reminded him of m&ms, the candy and since both our first names began with M he’d asked for the bracelet to be made for me. As he put it, ” Since you gesticulate a lot, everytime you talk, you’ll catch a glimpse of it on your wrist and think of me.” 
He knew everything about me and I about him. I was robbed on Falomo bridge one night as I drove myself home and he was the first person I thought to call. Even though he was headed in the opposite direction he got out of his car, crossed over the median and insisted on driving me home then took a cab from Ikoyi Hotel back to meet up with his driver. Before I knew it M had become a permanent fixture in my life. How were things with hubby? I hate to say it, but things were peachy. In fact, better than ever. I stopped nagging and playing amateur sleuth by checking his phone and his glove box to find out where he’d been and with whom. I actually welcomed him being away so I could have alone time with M who had become my best friend. Like I said, we didn’t have sex again for ages but there was a bond between us that was unreal. We would consult each other on major decisions all the time, even on the most mundane of issues like what to wear to a function, what gifts to buy the celebrant etc. I guess the fact that hubby was away in PH a lot working on a project made it even easier to get further wrapped up in the relationship. I’d always thought all extra marital affairs were exciting, you know, like sampling a new exotic dish. This was like eating a plate of your grandma’s jollof rice. It left me not with tingling taste buds but full up. You know, content…satisfied.
Things continued like this for almost two years. Yes, two years. Looking back, I don’t know how I managed it. Compartmentalization, I guess. In one life I was a typical Lagos girl. Good wife, great teen church teaching mother (I don’t know how God didn’t strike me dead on the spot every Sunday) and on the side, a hardened adulteress with absolutely no conscience. When M and I would plan trips away, I had no qualms lying to hubby about where I was going. I usually hated travelling for work but began volunteering to take up assignments out of town just so M and I could be together where no one knew us and be uninhibited.
Things were soon about to change though, as hubby was promoted at work and that promotion came with much more money AND a move out of the country. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. The company hardly ever gave such appointments to Nigerians. Everyone was so pleased for us. Everyone of course, except me. The thought of moving away from M was gut wrenching. I used my job and the kids as an excuse. I was doing well at work, rising fast. The kids were settled in a new secondary school, doing well. It wouldn’t be good to move them now. Hubby and I began to fight A LOT. My parents had to intervene and gave me a good talking to. Mum said “Abi there’s another reason why you don’t want to move?” Naturally, at this point I had to give in. But was that the end of M& M? Nope…

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