Make him realize he's your lover, not your husband

 Written by Cadida

MOTHERS certainly know best no matter how old their children. Eccua, a younger friend, paid a visit to her mum some few months back, virtually bending her ears with tales of her husband’s latest escapades.

“She always made a soothing noise whenever she realized all I needed to do was let off steam”, said Eccua, “but this fateful afternoon, my mum gave me a bored look, yawned and declared: “Aren’t you a bit tired of hearing your own moan? I mean look at you!

A graduate we were all proud of now turned into what? Look at the back of your feet. When last did you have a pedicure? Or a good facial? Or a fancy stint at the hairdresser’s? I scarcely see you in anything glamorous but a frumpy boubou.

If I were your husband, believe me, I wouldn’t be interested either!” I glanced at her and she glared right back. Whose side was she on? I’m a mother of three for goodness sake, not some femme fatal! She ought to be more sympathetic.”

I hate to rub salt into Eccu’a wound but I told her gently that I agreed with her mum. She was really fashionable when she was younger and we weren’t surprised when she married into a respectable family. Now a couple of decades later, she’s settled into a rut.

She’d become sort of ‘mumsy’ and even mothered her husband. I told her that if she didn’t snatch a bit of her old self back, find some self-respect, her husband wouldn’t appreciate her if she didn’t value herself.

My harsh words obviously hit home. She looked at me as if I were a traitor, but I gently pointed out to her that she might be running a successful primary school, that didn’t mean she had to dress the part of a school ma’am! She’d put on more weight than necessary and in spite of her mum’s warning, she had on most an unflattering boubou-which seemed to be her trade mark lately. “Why don’t you give away your boubous and get some more flattering gears?” I asked her gently.

She nodded, then left, a bit dejected. Had I gone too far? She needed to be shocked out of her complacency. I consoled myself. Who best to do that but a well-meaning ‘aunty’ like me? When I next spoke with her on the phone, she told me excitedly that she’d started on a diet and joined a group of ladies that went for walks in their estate.

Good for her, I encourage, my conscience salved. When next I saw Eccua, I nearly flipped. She’d lost the right amount of weight, had a lovely and flattering dress on. She’d also put some fancy highlights in her hair.

“Wow!” I yelled encouragingly. “Double wow!” she shrieked and then her phone rang. Her face instantly lit up as she checked the caller’s identity. She had on a smug smile after she finished her call. That was Femi, one of my pupil’s dad.’

‘Oh’, I gulped. She joked: “Thanks to you and mum. I can now pull men!” “Heh, that wasn’t the idea”, I quickly told her. “We just wanted you to feel good about yourself, not start pulling men left, right and centre!” Had we created a monster?

“The good thing about having an inner glow is that other people notice, “she told me smugly.

“Femi has two children in my school and sometimes come for them instead of sending a driver. We’ve often chatted but it never even occurred to me that he could be anything but a parent. After I lost weight, he started staying longer and longer.

The staff decided to do a nativity play and one of Femi’s sons was involved. He was excited, chipping in his bits at rehearsals and since I hadn’t forgotten my sewing skills, I made some of the costumes. Femi praised my efforts to high heavens one evening after rehearsal. We were alone in my office and I thanked him. “I’ve always been good with my hands, “I told him innocently until I saw the dirty look on his face. “Show me,” he declared as he moved closer to me giving me a kiss.

He must have unlocked some hidden passion in me because I couldn’t stop myself - I was all over him and he was kissing me as if I was a much needed drug.