I could think of nothing else other than my big day. I am no saint, but I am true to myself in many ways. I have lived a fun life, and now, it was time to put the icing on the cake. It was time to marry my girlfriend of three years. Nene and I had dated for three years and those years had been the best years of my life. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all rosy as she was a pig-headed, dogged, almost over-confident young lady. It took half of those three years for me to get comfortable and understand that we were not working in opposition, but that my Nene loved me as much as I wanted to be loved by the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. That was enough for me.
At the beginning of our relationship, we had decided not to dwell on past relationships. We swapped stories of past relationships, but in no great detail. Sometimes, the past was a heavy burden the world could do without. Along the line, I had met some people she had dated in the past and she had also met some of my own exes. No qualms at all. My woman was a gem and besides the lustful glance to the left and right once in a while, I had remained faithful to her.
I suppose you have a feel of the picture I am trying to paint. The picture of a relationship my friends envied, a woman I honored and loved and a relationship my family couldn’t wait to bless. I anxiously and impatiently waited for my big day. Now the time had come. It was barely 24hours to our church wedding. I was exhausted from the traditional wedding ceremonies of the day before. It was all worth it. Very soon, Nene and I will start a life of our own. Those Saturday and Sunday visits, fun as they were, were quite tiring. Not being able to kiss my love when I wanted because her folks might come into the living room… The stolen moments at my flat after work, just before she rushed off home. All these will be history by tomorrow. I hadn’t had sex in six months. For most men, that’s a feat. I couldn’t wait to take my bride, nice and slow…
These were the thoughts that played through my mind that Friday night. My groomsmen were partying away at my bachelor’s eve. I was too tired for any of that. I had made an appearance and come back home to sleep but excitement (or anxiety) had chased sleep through the back door. I wanted to drive over to Nene’s house. She left her phone in the car when we went to pick her dress from the drycleaners. My mum said it was a bad omen to see your wife a few hours before the wedding, so I had to control the urge. I went down to the car park and took my wife’s (saying that gives me pride) phone out of the glove compartment. I’d just turn it off and keep it at home and when she comes in tomorrow night, it’d be waiting for her.
As I got to the room, the phone beeped. A text message. I don’t read Nene’s texts, but what if it was important? One of her friend’s coming into town stranded somewhere. I flipped the phone open and saw a picture message. My woman was on top of some muscular, fierce-looking young man. My head felt light and my stomach rumbled. I read the text beneath. “Happy Married Life Pom-pom… Monday night was great. I’ll miss you, but I understand. I wish I could give you the things you want. I hope you find the security you seek. Love, Rocky.” What did this mean? I tried to tell myself this was an old picture, but I could see the scar on her hand. That happened on Saturday when Nkem, her younger sister spilled hot water on her. “Pom-pom???” How sleazy! “The security you seek?” So what was I? A provider of security? Here I was, madly, deeply in love with someone who saw me as an assurance of security. When life wanted to screw you up, it did it real hard! I felt a knot in my chest. I just closed the phone and turned it off. I curled up in a fetal position and with tears spilling down my cheeks, I slept.
The next day, like a zombie, I went through the ceremony. It would have been a wonderful ceremony if I was in a different state of mind. As I was I couldn’t be bothered. When we got back to the house, Nene busied herself with taking a shower and getting ready for ‘the wedding night sex’. I just lay in bed staring at the ceiling. When she came out of the bathroom, my wife looked like a goddess! My eyes were moved, but my heart and loins felt nothing. I passed her phone to her saying, “You got a text, Pom-pom”. She looked at me and the disgust in my eyes told her all she wanted to know. She broke down in tears. There was no need to cry. I got up and walked out of the room. It was over, just as it was beginning.