Forums Coolval (series) Love: misplaced trust by olubunmi.d

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    Episode 1
    I will best be described as extremely reserved, and when it
    comes to matters of the heart (love); I can be annoyingly
    sluggish with showing what I feel. My best moments in my
    many relationships have all been in dreams with
    imaginary perfect men who never put a foot wrong. I was
    fearful, detailed and analytical to a fault. For the larger
    part of my life, the above weaknesses hindered me from
    opening my heart to accept love. On many occasions I
    turned men down only to get home and cry myself to
    sleep. I thought I had a pretty good idea about love and
    how it should work, but the problem with all I knew was
    that they had not been put to test in real life situations. I
    had a masterful knowledge of love but only in my
    imaginary escapades. However a time came when I got
    bored with denying myself of real love. I grew bitter with
    myself and craved to be in love with a man…a real man.
    About that time my frustration peaked, I had returned to
    Nigeria from Canada where the company I worked for sent
    me for a course. When I got back to my office I met new
    faces, some of whom were guys. The new faces I met were
    part of a team hired by my company to handle Client
    Service and CRM (Customer Relationship Management).
    They were hired for us through a modeling agency. You
    can imagine what they looked like. The sight of the guys
    amongst them made my heart palpitate. Already I was
    desperately searching for a man. I could not wait to put
    my ideas to work, to love a real man and to be loved back.
    With these guys thrown in my path, I hardly concentrated
    at work.
    Three weeks after I resumed work, I was asked by the
    head of HR (Human relationship) unit to supervise our
    new Client Service/CRM team. This meant I had to always
    be in touch with those ‘pretty’ guys. While my boss was
    speaking to me, my heart was racing and ideas were
    assailing my mind about how to nail one of them down for
    myself. I already had a target, Dayo. He had briefly
    modeled in London before things went awry for him and
    he came back to Nigeria to reinvent himself. He seemed to
    be above the other guys judging by how he did his work,
    carried himself and treated his colleagues. I was pretty
    sure I was not the only woman at work who dreamt of
    having him beside them in bed at night. But I was the only
    one in a position to get him with regard to the influence I
    would have over his career at work. I still do not recall
    much of what my boss said to me after she had broken
    the news that I should take charge of the Client Service/
    CRM team. My only question to her was, “Please madam,
    can I pick one of them to work as an assistant…sort of?”
    “Of course! You are free to manage the team the way you
    see fit so long as your method gives us great result,” she
    replied. I beamed with a smile because finally, I was going
    get me a man to love me.
    The next day, I went to work – but not for my company. I
    had spent the previous night studying the file I was given
    on each member of the group I was to supervise. I wanted
    to know how to get Dayo, or some other guy and slay him
    with love. I just could not wait to hear a real man say to
    me, “I love you” and then carry me into his bedroom to
    treat me like I was the ‘queen of Sheba’. It was time to live
    all those dreams I had dreamt for many years. Having
    over shielded myself from men in the past and did not
    really know what loving one was like, I did not know what I
    was getting into, and struggled to manage the surge of
    emotions which went through me like currents. To be fair
    enough to myself, I was annoyingly naïve. At the
    conference room I and the team converged and I
    introduced myself to them. One after another they
    introduced themselves to me. I was both strict and gentle.
    I didn’t want to be seen as easy or harsh. I wanted every
    one of them to know that I would be friendly if they
    preferred it and that I would also be tough if that was how
    they liked to work. I announced to them that Dayo would
    be assisting me with the job of helping the team achieve
    its goals. After making the announcement I waited to read
    their faces and to give anyone who had other ideas the
    chance to air them. There was none, so I proceeded with
    the meeting; however I kept a close look on their faces to
    see if I could decipher what they were thinking. Frankly I
    was scared. I had not wooed a man before and doing it
    tactfully in public scared the living day out of me.
    Nonetheless, I kept my cool, bellying the storm of fear
    which raged on the inside of me.
    After the meeting I went into my office and took a deep
    sigh of relief, I had given everyone a valid reason to be
    seen often with Dayo. So it won’t get tongues wagging if we
    were often seen together. Other ladies who were head-
    over-heels about Dayo won’t see me coming until he was
    gone. I set up my work in such a way that Dayo was in
    touch with me, and not me with him. In-between our work,
    I gave him the impression that I was available and that he
    could make the move. On the other hand I also reminded
    him that I was his boss. I had to be patient, but Dayo’s
    slow pace of making a move on me was frustrating. It got
    to a time I almost switched him with Samson, another
    handsome and intelligent guy in the group. I felt Samson
    understood me better and picked my cues as a lonely lady
    like a sniff dog. One evening after work, I was feeling
    lonely at home when my phone rang and it was Samson.
    My thoughts were that he called because of work; however
    when I picked the call he boldly asked me if I cared to join
    him on an evening outing. To me, he was clearly asking
    me out. My legs shook and my hands vibrated. In fact, I
    almost collapsed into the sofa close by. When I tried to say
    a word I found my throat dry like Sahara desert. My long
    silence had completely betrayed the fact that I was
    overwhelmed by his request.
    To regain my pride, I tried to intimidate him, “Samson,
    what do you think you are doing?! Are you asking me out?”
    My voice was not as harsh as it often sounded at work,
    and being a smart guy Samson saw through that. “I am not
    sure that is what I am doing right now, I am sorry if it
    came across to you that way. I felt you might be alone and
    wouldn’t mind to share a few bottles of drink with me at a
    bar.” I had to put up another façade, “How in God’s world
    did you get the idea that I am alone?” “I know you are very
    reserved and did very little outside after the day’s work.”
    “Thanks for your request Samson, tonight is not the night I
    will drink with you. Ask me another day. I happen to be
    very busy right now.” I lied, I was actually sick at home
    with being alone. I was an expert at throwing men’s
    advances back at them. After all, that was what I had been
    doing since my preteen years. However this time I did not
    do it stupidly, I simply did it not to look cheap, because I
    figured Samson had been studying me for long and I was
    not sure what he might have found. The next day I carried
    on at work like nothing happened and Samson was his
    usual self, doing his work with a smile on his face and a
    song in his heart.
    I studied him when I could and he perhaps did the same.
    By the time the day’s work was over, my fancy for Dayo
    had waned a bit; I was already fantasizing about Samson. I
    remember driving home from work and praying for him to
    call again with the same request. When I got home I got
    myself ready and waited for his call. It didn’t come.
    However another call came. Dayo was in my
    neighbourhood and had called to check on me. His call
    wasn’t the one I was expecting, so I brushed him off. But
    on a second thought I called him back and asked if he was
    leaving my neighbourhood immediately and he said no.
    He was actually waiting for his friend who was not at
    home. So I told him that I was coming out to bask in the
    evening breeze with him while he waited for his friend. He
    told me where he was and in a few minutes I arrived there
    in a taxi. I was spotting an adidas T-shirt and a pair of Loro
    Piana black trouser. I like flat slip-on footwears, so I wore
    one and had my handheld devices in a purse which I
    clutched unto. I spent about two hours with him that
    evening before his friend called to inform him that he was
    home. Those two hours were amazing for me. Dayo had
    knowledge about everything, and I happened to have a
    bent for intelligent guys. I almost asked him to take me
    home. Knowledge flowed from his mouth like water from
    a fountain. The sound of his voice was polished; it was like
    the sound of music. He clearly worked out a lot. As she
    spoke, his chest would pulsate and his biceps would firm
    up. I almost touched them.
    When I got home I could not resist calling him to say I was
    home. You should have heard me, I sounded like I was
    already his girlfriend. At work the next day I had him
    pinned in my office really doing nothing. I wanted to know
    if he could not get it that I was offering myself to him.
    Sammy (Samson) came into my office severally and saw
    us. He probably wondered what Dayo was doing in my
    office that long. I did not care. Thank God I had not fallen
    for Samson; Dayo was my man and I was going to get him.
    As if he understood the reason I had him detained in my
    office all day, that evening he called to ask if I cared for a
    round of stimulating chat over a few bottles of drink at the
    bar of my choice. “Of course!” was my answer. Then I
    asked him to come pick me up at home. I liked to be spoilt
    with tender loving care. That was how all the men I dated
    in my dream treated me. When he came, I silently prayed
    for him to open his car door and hold it for me to go in.
    He did exactly that. ‘Oh God! I am already living my
    dreams,’ I thought. To cut the long story short, from the
    events of that night, a relationship with Dayo blossomed.
    Two months later we were living partly in his apartment
    and mine. I washed his boxer shorts, cooked for him, we
    visited his parents together, his sisters often spent time in
    my house, and I would often ask him to bathe me during
    most nights he spent with me. I loved to be bathed by the
    man I love. If you asked the men I dated in my dreams,
    they would have told you it made me tick.
    At some point I boasted to myself that my relationship
    with Dayo was better than the ones I had with those
    imaginary perfect men in my dreams. By the time our
    relationship was eight months old, it had already hit
    overdrive. I could not figure out what in the world we were
    waiting to get married. So one evening, while he was
    bathing me, I asked him what he was waiting to propose to
    me. In a very romantic way, he put his index finger on my
    lips, signaling I should shut up, stood up and left the
    bathroom. I had no clue what he was up to; I just sat in
    the bathtub and waited for him to return. When he
    returned, he grabbed and began to kiss me as though that
    was our first kiss. In my head I wondered what his game
    plan was until his tongue began to wander feverishly in my
    mouth and left a metallic object in it. I broke from the kiss
    and spewed the object into my palm only to see it was an
    engagement ring. Faster than light can travel, my eyes
    moistened at the surprise he pulled off on me.
    I looked up and found him kneeling on one foot; the
    hallowed words from his lips took my breath away, “Baby,
    will you marry me?” Desperately, I gasped for breath, I
    had to blurt out my answer as if I waited a second longer
    he would take his request back, “Yes, I will!” I leapt from
    the tub and kissed him with tears flooding from my eyes.
    From that day our wedding plans began in earnest; I made
    sure all my friends and work colleagues got a good look at
    my engagement ring. I worked like an ant to make sure no
    detail was left out in my wedding plans. Dayo’s family
    could not wait to see us get married, especially his mother
    and sisters. Our wedding reception was grand and stylish;
    we had a very romantic looking table with white linen
    tablecloth covered with a pink overlay. I made sure our
    event planner tucked in a tiny, perfect rosebud into each
    guest’s pale pink napkin. A centerpiece included varieties
    of pink blooms, such as roses, orchids and tulips. We had
    masses of candles to warm everyone’s heart. We floated
    them in glass bowls in various heights on tables. We had
    table cards printed with the “firsts” of our romance. The
    two of us wrote those together. We used them instead of
    standard table numbers — for example, one table was
    “First Kiss” table and another was “First Date” table and so
    Stories continues……….

    Episode 2
    After the wedding, we spent two weeks in São Tomé and
    Príncipe in a hotel overlooking the sea. Dayo’s uncle had
    paid for that as his wedding gift to us. I will save you the
    details of what happened on the beach over there in São
    Tomé and Príncipe. However just five months after our
    wedding, my fairy tale romance with Dayo came crashing
    like a pack of cards. I was washing his clothes when I
    found a note in his trouser pocket which read, “Baby, I will
    be waiting for you in the hotel room. Don’t give me any
    excuses this time.” Unbelievably I stared at the note as my
    heart threatened to stop. Hot tears ran down my face and
    my head felt light. I began to cry. In the dream land where
    my kind of love evolved from, men don’t cheat and not
    one of my imaginary lovers cheated on me. With my feet
    wobbly, I stood up and reached for my phone and called
    Shola, Dayo’s younger sister who had come to be a bosom
    friend of mine.
    I cried so hard on the phone she thought I was going to
    die. When she came over and saw the note I found in her
    brother’s trouser pocket, she was struck dumb. We
    couldn’t reason our way around the evidence of infidelity
    before us. Dayo was out supervising work on the house we
    had acquired. Before he could get home I had packed my
    things and moved into another room. When he returned
    home and I confronted him with the note, he vehemently
    denied knowledge of it. To me his denial of having no
    knowledge of the note seemed quite genuine. He was mad
    with me for even entertaining the thought that he could
    cheat on me. My heart was in tatters, I did not know what
    to do or believe. I had never been cheated on before.
    Dayo was my first love. To save our marriage, Dayo
    brought the matter to the knowledge of his family
    members and mine. His efforts to save our marriage were
    impressive but the problem was that my heart had fallen
    prey to morbid fear and paranoia. I found myself thinking
    every time he was away from me that he was with another
    woman. To drive home my plight, my mind daily tethered
    on the fringes of hysteria.
    Slowly I started denying him sex occasionally and began to
    starve him at home. Before long the love I had in my heart
    for him was replaced with bitterness and disregard. Fear
    completely ate me up and I fell into darkness. To save our
    marriage I began to read his e-mails and went through his
    phone to prove to myself that he was not cheating on me,
    however the more I dug into his life, the more I found
    clues that perhaps there was another woman somewhere
    sleeping with my husband when he was not at home.
    When my heart could not take it anymore, I packed my
    stuffs and moved out of his house. He fought like a bull to
    keep me from leaving him, he cried, swore and even
    threatened to commit suicide, but my heart was no longer
    with him. Living with him was driving me insane. After I
    left him, almost every night I cried myself to sleep. I would
    wake up in the morning and found my pillow wet. Many
    times I thought that I gave up too easily and abandoned
    what mattered the most to me. But I was too afraid of
    Dayo dumping me in the long run, so I slipped into my old
    self who perfected the art of rejecting men’s advances and
    cried about it all night long.
    A month after I moved out of Dayo’s house I found out I
    was pregnant, so I called his mother and told her. She
    must have told Dayo, because he did everything he could
    to see me but I refused to see him, even though I cried
    about that. When I made up my mind to leave his house, I
    convinced my superiors at work to move me to another
    branch of the company both of us worked for. My request
    was swiftly considered given the good relationship I
    enjoyed with my bosses. So for Dayo to see me was
    difficult, and I made sure it stayed that way for long. I
    wasn’t sure if what I was doing was right. Everyone told me
    I was being stupid, including my parents. My father was
    particularly angry with me for throwing my marriage away.
    On several occasions he called demanding I move back to
    my husband’s house. Each time I tried to explain my plight
    to him he would shut me up, yelling at me. My Mother
    summoned meetings to get me to move back to Dayo’s
    house, but I wouldn’t budge. After some time, it seemed
    everyone cut me a slack and allowed me to follow my way.
    Even Dayo who called me off-the-hook, strangely went
    silent. The only person who stayed in touch with me was
    Dayo’s mum. She continued to treat me as though I had
    not left her son’s house. She was exceptionally nice to me
    and that made me feel guilty.
    Things further deteriorated about the eighth month of my
    pregnancy. Dayo’s mother had called to know how I was
    doing; as usual I was in tears. She decided to drive down
    to my house to see me. I had not let any of Dayo’s relative
    know where I was living. However, because of how much
    Dayo’s mum cared for me, I sent my address to her. About
    an hour later she was in my house. She didn’t like the way
    I looked. Living alone I had to do everything for myself.
    That evening, I had not much to eat and was too tired to
    fix a meal for myself. Dayo’s mother offered to cook for
    my, but on a second thought she decided to go buy me
    food. About a minute after she left my living room, I heard
    a loud cry at the staircase. It was Dayo’s mum. I ran out in
    panic, clutching my protruding tummy. The sight I met at
    the base of the staircase was shocking; Dayo’s mother was
    lying still on the floor with a bloody gash on her head. She
    must her slipped off the staircase. I began to shout as
    loudly as I could, calling for help. Thankfully my
    neighbours were already on the way to the staircase, they
    had heard my mother in-law’s cry. She was lifted quickly
    and driven off to a hospital. I ran back into my apartment
    and dialed Dayo’s number. I did not believe I would call
    him for any reason, but that was what I did in that
    situation. Sadly his phone was off. I had to call his sister,
    Shola and told her what had happened.
    By 10: pm in the night, doctors gave us a terrible news.
    Dayo’s mother had gone into coma; her head had taken a
    terrible hit when she tumbled on the staircase. Strangely,
    late into the night there was still no sign of Dayo. Everyone
    was at the hospital including my parents but Dayo was
    nowhere to be seen. I had to pull Shola aside and asked
    her why Dayo was not in the hospital. She was angry with
    me as was everyone. I was blamed for what happened to
    my mother in-law. They all believed that if I had agreed to
    return to my husband’s house, my mother in-law would
    not have slipped on the staircase. Judging by Shola’s
    mood, it seemed to me she was going to beat me up. I
    could tell she was having a hard time controlling her
    anger. Possibly to let me realize how selfish I had been,
    Shola decided to tell me what everyone had agreed not to
    let me in on, “Runaway-wife, when you came into our
    family we thought it was for good, but as it is, when you
    came death was following behind you. If you care to know,
    Dayo has been lying sick for three months at the hospital.
    He has colon cancer. The way things are; he is not going to
    survive it.” I still can’t explain what happened next. All I
    remember was going down in a heap as my head went
    The next day I woke up in a hospital bed, crying to see
    Dayo. Everyone in the room sighed, and I could
    understand why they did so. It was already late. My failure
    to forgive what actually never happened had ruined my
    marriage and the relationship I had with those in Dayo’s
    family. Nonetheless, I continued to cry, demanding to be
    taken to him. After I had recovered from my shock, I was
    taken to see Dayo at the hospital where he was. The first
    thing he said when he saw me was, “Baby, I did not cheat
    on you, and neither have I known another woman since
    the day we exchanged our marital vows.” My parents who
    had taken me to see him had to steady me. I seemed to
    totter at the sight of the gawky figure which lay on the bed.
    In just three months cancer had eaten up my love and left
    him looking like a retroviral patient. All I could say amid
    tears, as I sat next to him was, “I am sorry. I believe you,
    please forgive my stupidity.” Raising his frail hand he ran it
    on my big tummy and asked, “How is the baby?” I could
    not say a word, hot tears were gushing from my eyes as
    guilt stabbed at my heart.
    In the weeks that followed, I moved back to Dayo’s house.
    I was eager to make the brief moment we had to spend
    together the most memorable ones we had spent. I had to
    go apologize to Dayo’s father and siblings for my failure to
    forgive Dayo a wrong which he consistently confessed he
    did not do. His father was quick to forgive me, but his
    siblings dragged their feet. They believed I had ruined
    their family. While I was on knees crying to be forgiven my
    phone rang, it was Esther. We worked together back when
    I worked at the same branch with Dayo. At first I ignored
    her call, but when she persisted, I had to take the call
    meaning to ask her to call me back later, but what
    followed was unbelievable. I heard Esther crying and
    asking me to forgive her over the phone. She wanted to
    see me immediately. When I asked her what I had to
    forgive her for she said she was the one who planted the
    note which broke my marriage with Dayo and had sent the
    suspicious e-mails I read.
    I was so deeply hurt that I went into labour in that
    moment. Dayo’s father and siblings could not figure out
    why I cried the way I did. At first they thought that Dayo
    had passed on. Shola had to pick my phone which I flung
    in her direction to find out whom I spoke with over the
    phone and what he or she might have told me. After I had
    successfully delivered my baby, Shola gave me the full gist
    of what she had found out from Esther. Esther happened
    to have had a crush on Dayo, and had hope of nailing him
    down until I took him away. Determined to win him for
    herself, she went to work to destroy my marriage. All
    these were strange to me, I had heard stories of women
    stealing other women’s husbands, but I was too naïve to
    believe any of it. I believed that men leave their wives
    because they want to. When I mentioned Esther’s
    confession to Dayo, he didn’t speak a word for over thirty
    minutes. He simply turned on his bed and faced the wall.
    It turned out that after I moved out of his house, Esther
    began to pester him to let her move into his house so she
    could take care of him. It hurt Dayo so much because he
    did not make the connection when Esther pestered him
    and threw herself at him at every chance she got. She had
    to confess what she did because a native doctor had told
    her that if she did not, she would never get married (I do
    not believe this was the reason she confessed. She
    confessed only because she saw that Dayo was as good as
    dead. Perhaps guilty conscience wouldn’t let her move on).
    However the thought of Esther visiting a native doctor for
    whatever reason scared the living day out of me. Back
    where I come from I did not hear of such. I saw girls flaunt
    their bodies to catch the men they wanted, but did not
    hear of any visiting native doctors.
    In all, I learnt that I was naïve about love and life.
    Dreaming about love did not mean I knew jack about it.
    Right under my nose, a fellow woman took my marriage
    and smashed it on the floor. You can dream about love all
    you want, if you do not work your fingers sore and learn
    how to love and keep your man, you might lose him to
    those who want him more than you do. On the other
    hand, the birth of my son seemed to give Dayo a lot more
    reason to fight and live. He did not survive the cancer, but
    he lived long enough to see his son say, “Dada.” My
    mother in-law woke from coma about a month and two
    weeks after I had my son. She still treats me like an angel
    in spite of my folly. I still regret my stupidity. I should have
    believed Dayo when he swore to me that he knew nothing
    about that note. Cancer may have killed him anyway, but
    we would have lived happily all those months I left him.
    Maybe…just maybe my love would have stopped the
    cancer. Someday I might get the chance to love again, and
    even if I catch my man pants down with another woman, I
    won’t throw him away, until I have heard the whole story.
    The above story was narrated by Angela Ighalo (actual
    name withheld)

    #691608 Reply
    Etz Froshberry
    • "Posts"20733
    • ☆☆☆☆☆

    Oh..Nice Story

    Kudos To The Writer!

    #691625 Reply
    • "Posts"63
    • ☆☆

    Hmm…..walking out of marriage is not the best option, you only believe in the love in ur dream and imagination……..even if ur husband cheat on you,that’s doesn’t mean the end of the marriage(use both ur mind nd ur brain)not only d heart that was broken
    Learn how to forgive and forget……so that d marriage last long……………..I hope dayo lives more nd more

    #691640 Reply
    • "Posts"386
    • ☆☆

    Wow wat a lovely story

    #691651 Reply
    • "Posts"1262
    • ☆☆

    what a sad story but learnt some lesson

    #691665 Reply
    Certified Bae
    • "Posts"10892
    • ☆☆☆☆☆

    Nice story..

    #691690 Reply
    adrino26[sPORT GOVERNOR}
    • "Posts"873
    • ☆☆

    Eh nawa ohhhhhhhhh

    #691985 Reply
    • "Posts"1048
    • ☆☆

    Nice story full of lesson

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Reply To: Love: misplaced trust by olubunmi.d
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