When an ex-husband refuses to let go the hurt of the past!

Written by Candida

I’VE always believed disasters come in threes.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed a few weeks ago - and it was no thanks to Deji who’d purposely come the night before to ask why I was giving him the cold shoulder. Instead of feeling sorry for him, I felt really irritated. He’d set the rule that either of us should phone first before a visit to make sure the coast was clear. So what gave him the right to now berge in on me? He apologized and said he was around my premises for a meeting. Hoping to ‘find me in, he’d chilled a bottle of my favourite tipple, and if I was hungry, he was ready to send for dinner for us.

He then brought out all the charms in his arsenal and I thawed a bit. Afterall, I once thought him the cat’s whisker. But his kisses left me a bit cold. Women I’d seen with him flashed before my eyes, including the nymphet who just gave him a son. The conceit of some men - flaunting all their affairs and expecting you to jump with joy when they have time for you!

I was playing over the last night's episode when the electricity came to an abrupt end. Swearing under my breath, I called out to the houseboy to start the now cranky generator when my foot was caught in the cord of the wireless phone I was charging. As I fell flat on my face, my glasses caught the bedside dustbin and snapped into two. I managed to crawl and find my way to the phone so I could use its light to avoid more disaster. How long would this unwarranted suffering last when we’re not in the Dark Ages. Or are we?

I was still feeling sorry for myself as I made my way to the optician’s that afternoon to get my other glasses fixed. And who should be coming in the opposite direction but my ex-husband with his latest heart-throb! We’ve often tried to be polite to each other on the rare occasions we met, but this day in question, he was determined to have a chat. “I learnt your former boss (CTB) lost his wife,” he asked.
Where did I get this feeling he wasn’t wishing to offer his sympathy? Before I could give a suitable answer, he sneered: “I suppose you’ll be wanting to move in with him? All the time we were courting, I knew you were bonking him. This became apparent the day you took me to his house and I caught the wife looking at you with a bit of amusement. She obviously suspected but saw you as no threat.

Playing the godfather
“He was always playing the god-father when we were married. Remember how he used to come to the house just that time we were broke and always offered us generous life-lines? I wanted to tell him what he could do with his money but couldn’t as I never caught him red-handed. When I heard of his fathering two children by his typist, I felt it was poetic justice, not knowing your greed had robbed you of your pride and you kept on bonking him...”

My jaw nearly hit the floor at the venom in his voice as he went on and on. His big frame was virtually preventing me from moving away and his girlfriend’s face was like thunder! She tugged at his sleeve to let them move on but he simply ignored her. His mad side had obviously taken over. He didn’t even bat an eyelid as the poor woman stormed off. With pure hatred in his eyes, he went on, “Now the poor woman is dead, are you going to be his wife?. Or all you’re good for are furtive bunks whenever he had time for you?”

By this time, I’d quickly recovered from the shock of his tirade. Gingerly walking round his enraged frame, I dashed into the next shop. In the good old days when I was married to the brute, he would have followed me in and possibly start a physical fight. Looking thoroughly frustrated, he marched off, not even bothering to find out if the poor girl he’d humiliated by his unwarranted outpour was still around.

Hoping fervently that that would be the third disaster, I poured myself a glass of well-longed for wine when I got home.

Taking stock of events of the last 24 hours, I tried to relax, praying the usual nightmare I often had whenever my ex surfaced would have been a thing of the past now. It was at this juncture that Joel sauntered in. Talk about his being a sight for sore eyes! He looked really good enough to eat and I was hungry! I hadn’t seen him for weeks but we often talked on the phone. Nothing serious, just words - packed with a rid of native robes without his agbada, and his crown jewels were well conceived so you couldn’t notice them dangling. As we munched and relaxed, he casually removed his trousers.
He wanted us to make love there and then without either of us taking off our clothes! It was fun, believe me. I was sorry to see the back of him, but he’d definitely lessened all the tension that threatened to make me have a bad night. The next day, I felt much better but couldn’t get the apoplectic look my ex had when he was lashing out at me out of my mind. It’s been over 20 years since we’d called it quits and we’d both had several other partners.
He’s also had some kids by different women, so why was he bitter about CTB? I’d certainly known a few of his bits-on-the-sides too when we were married, why aren’t I keeping tabs on them when the marriage had long since died and buried?
Goes to show the workings of the mind of an insanely jealous man. A bit of jealousy is one thing but insane jealousy could be quite crippling. Gnawing at the mind of its victims and festering for years even when there is no need for it to!