I Want To Marry A Rich Man, Am I Asking For Too Much? (Part 2)

If you haven’t read the first part of this story, here’s the link. Kindly read it before starting this one.

After my story was published there were a lot of comments, the majority of which did not support my decision to marry a rich man. I took some of the advice that was given to me and decided to just open my heart to love whether or not riches were involved. There was a guy I had been ignoring in my dms for months. He is not rich but he is hard working and I liked that about him. He was very sincere in his desire to be with me so I decided to overlook his poor finances and give love a chance.

This guy, his name is Paul, we started dating in November. He told me how much he earned every month, and judging by his lifestyle, it wasn’t a lie. My monthly salary was more than twice his income but I didn’t let it show. He also didn’t ask how much I earned so it never came up. Our relationship had very open lines of communication. We knew each other’s passwords and could go through each other’s phones whenever we wanted to. Because of this, I always deleted my bank messages so he wouldn’t come across them and feel intimidated.

Although I felt he was underpaid for the kind of life I wanted with my man, that was the best he could do. He had been unemployed after graduating from school until he landed this particular job. So I stood by him and hoped that things would get better for him. Our relationship was a good one. He respected all my rules; no sex before marriage, no sleepovers, and no doing anything that married couples should do. The only thing I compromised on was cooking.

I don’t like buying food from outside so I am always cooking. And whenever I cook, I package some in plastic containers and stock his fridge with them. Sometimes I cook at my place, other times I cook at his place. I was the happiest I had ever been when we were together. I didn’t want money to be a problem between us so I told him, “If we are talking and I complain that I don’t have something, don’t try to be romantic by sending me money. Trust that I will ask you for money when the time comes.” What we did was buy gifts for each other.

Whenever we went out and the bill was high, I found a way to pay without emasculating him. While settling the bill I would make a fuss, “This money that I am paying, I will take it back from you in a hundred folds.” He would laugh and respond, “I know you will take it back. You women don’t joke when it comes to money.” After all this, I never asked him for my money back. I was rather concerned about how he survived on his meagre salary. So I just kept stocking his fridge with food in an attempt to help ease his financial burden.

Our relationship was indeed my dream come true.  Paul had almost everything I wanted in a man. I even berated myself for taking too long to pay attention to him. “So if I was still fixated on marrying a rich man, this good man would have been withering away in my dms and I wouldn’t even know,” I often thought. Although I was very happy with Paul, he was not the only man in my life. Relax, don’t get ahead of me. I am talking about my male friends who are my work colleagues. I have a healthy relationship with these men I work with, to the extent that when I send breakfast and lunch to work, they all share it with me.

Sometimes they would give me money to cook for work. Other times too, I put my hand in their pockets and I get money. They don’t mind me doing that because there is not a single day I go to work without food for them. It was our routine until one Tuesday I didn’t go to work. Coincidentally, Paul too didn’t go to work that day. I got bored at home so I decided to go and visit him. When I got to his house, I gave my phone to him to update something on it for me. While the phone was with him, my colleague Ernest sent me a message. It didn’t help matters that I saved his number as ‘Ernest Mate’ with the emoji with love bubbles on the cheeks. Then the message read; “Hi baby girl,  won’t you come to work today?”

I hadn’t told them I wouldn’t be at work so they must have been worried about me. When Paul saw the message he went through our chats and the things he saw were; “Hi dear, what food are you bringing to work tomorrow?” “Hey baby girl, tomorrow bring yam with kontomire stew for lunch.” “Hi sweet mate, how are you doing? Don’t forget the food tomorrow.” This is the kind of chat I have with Ernest and most of my other male colleagues.

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I was in the kitchen when Paul called me to come. I went and he asked, “Who is Ernest Mate with the emoji?” I told him, “He is my colleague at work.” “Why is your mate calling you names like ‘baby girl’?” he demanded. “I don’t know, Paul,” I responded, “We are just mates, nothing else. He has a girlfriend and he knows I have a boyfriend. In order not to cause further problems, I will ask him to stop calling me all those names. I am sorry that the messages upset you.”

I thought that should clear things up but Paul shook his head and said, “No, I don’t want you to talk to him anymore. Block his number and delete it.  And do the same thing for all the male contacts on your phone who are not related to you. That is the only way I will have peace of mind.” He was very particular about my colleagues because he said they were a threat to our relationship. I found what he wanted me to do drastic so I said no. “What if there is important information about work that my colleagues want to share with me? You know our work has to do with timeliness. I can’t miss out on all these things because my man doesn’t trust me.” Paul got angry and said a lot of hurtful things. One of the things he said was, “That’s what you the military ladies do and end up single mothers and unmarried at the age of forty.”

I told him, “I will take any insult from you but not this. The women in my line of work are not begging men to marry them. We know our place in life. Deal with your insecurities and stop attacking my mates. I will book you a counselling session to help you deal with whatever your problem is.” Before I could finish that last statement, a hot slap landed on my face. I returned the slap with skill and precision, “I don’t blame you. I blame your parents for failing society by bringing up an animal like you who knows how to hit women.”

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Paul raised his hand for a second slap. Well, I didn’t spare him. I gave him the beatings of his life. He may be stronger than me but I was trained for combat. I hit him in all the deadly spots only with the intention to weaken him, and I did just that. When I finished, I took all my foodstuffs back home. Physical abuse is a deal breaker for me in a relationship or marriage. So my relationship with Paul ended that very day. Instead of telling his friends what actually happened, he lied that we had a little misunderstanding and I left him. They came to beg me on his behalf, but I told them I’m done and that’s all.

In conclusion, I gave a poor man a chance and it ended up in disaster. I believe that it is better to cry in London than to cry in Kumasi. So I’m back to looking for a rich man to be a rich father to my unborn children. Wish me well.

— Esi

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