I’ve been seeing someone’s husband for 3 months - Akosua Abebrese

If you are one of those judgmental creatures whose first approach to issues is to find fault with another person’s actions, and as such you are about to judge me for my adult choice, close this page—this article is not meant for people like you.

In fact, I hate to have such conversations with people who condemn and judge others, simply because those people sin differently from them. You are not better than me in any way.

2016 ended on a good note for me: Nana Akufo Addo, an old man whose wife may be receiving little to no in-bed satisfaction, except if he’s as good with his tongue as John Dumelo managed to kick the energetic Usain Bolt style thief-John Dramni Mahama out—giving us some sort of hope that things are about to get better in Ghana.

It wasn’t just the political change that ended the year on a high note for me, I finally landed myself a responsible man, who’s able to pay for the Friday night’s simple ‘Banku and Tilapia’ we enjoy at Osu together—unlike the days of my ex when I had to always foot the bill and his taxi fare.

That guy was the contemporary definition of USELESS.

So, somewhere in October 2016 when I suddenly disappeared from the writing board, I met a good-smelling man who works in Sales at one of the Telecommunication Companies in Accra. I had gone to their office to lodge a complaint and on leaving the building, he approached to do the usual, ask for my phone number.

Later that night, we started texting—at about 11pm, we were still sending the getting to know each other messages. Apart from the fact that I was using him to keep myself awake to lock the main door when my mother returns from her late night service, he was somewhat interesting.

Out of the blue, I called; I do this a lot when I want to know if a man who claims to be single is indeed single. And he didn’t answer—the first sign that he had company.

How can someone showing online and replying my messages miss a call on the same phone? I asked myself.

And then he asked; “Akos, did you just call me?” To which I replied, “sorry, it was a mistake.” The aggression and quickness with which this man was messaging, an opportunity to have a late night voice chat shouldn’t have escaped him unless he was lying by the side of another woman while chatting me.

Right from that night, I knew I was about to become a side chick again—not that I hate this position, I just didn’t see myself ending the year as someone’s side chick.

But this was different and before anything else, let me explain to you the two types of side chick situations out there, which will help you have a fair idea of where I sit and the lack of regret.

Sidechick

The first side chick position, which I find pathetic is when a man has a serious woman and tells you about it and yet you decide to go out with him. Here, he is able to talk to the other woman when you are around because you are aware of her and have sanctioned the relationship. However, when he’s with the main woman, he wouldn’t dare pick your call—because you do not exist in such circumstance.

The other situation is when a man thinks he’s playing smart. He will tell you he’s single but the truth will be that he’s married, engaged or have a serious girlfriend. Unknown to him, you are aware of his lies but you decide to play along, to your gains—so that eventually, he gets busted by the main chick for you to also leave his sorry cheating butt.

I’ve been playing on the second ground and so far, it’s been going well—maybe after “Mr. I can lick you all night” reads this, he will first pull the plug. I am certain he wouldn’t read this as he claims to be always working at night, even from home. That’s the sort of lame reason he gives to his inability to pick up late night calls and why he must cut the call anytime he reaches home from work.

It’s 2017 and yet some douche bags called men still think women are inherently stupid and therefore they can play it smart with them.

So far, I’ve gotten a new iPhone from the workaholic sales executive who asks for n*ked photos as if he’s a p*rn casting director. Of course, I’ve not sent any photo yet and I wouldn’t send any in the future too.

A few weeks ago, I ‘whatsapped’ him around 10pm when I knew his woman would be around and said, I just finished my shower and I am in bed, “do you want to see me on video call to satisfy your unquenchable desire to see me n*ked”, he replied; “I am in the middle of something hun.”

And then the next morning, he texted to ask, “is the video offer still on the table” while on his way to work. I told him, “we can video call tonight when both of us are in bed—n*ked”, and that night, I didn’t even get a text message.

I’ve had about 9 after work dinners with this man and on all occasions, he comes with some sort of a gift. The last was an expensive Chanel perfume which I sold to my cousin two days later—to drop the money into my dried savings account.

Perhaps, the wife of this man who seems so generous to me, simply because he wants to get into my panties and collect a bunch of n*ked photos to add to his fetish collections cannot even remember the last time she got a gift from him or a dinner outside the home with him.

I am certain beyond reasonable doubt that he lives with a woman. The other day, he called me from the bathroom (you know the bathroom echo thing) and was literally whispering. And then a woman called his name—following which the call just went off. He later texted to say, his phone died on him.

If he hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have asked—I didn’t care. I am just enjoying his stupidity and I look forward to the weekly dinners, betting with my cousin each Friday what gift ‘Mr Otoolege’ will bring this time.

He tried kissing me about two weeks ago—disgustingly with his onion and beer breath, right after the weekly ‘Banku and Tilapia’ ritual. I told him, “we are not there yet—I need to know you better and be comfortable to do this.”

I am single and I have plenty of time for losers like this and though I feel sorry that I take a few hours of the time meant for whoever he has at home, I do not regret it, because he wouldn’t plausibly be giving it to her. If it’s not me, it will be another woman.

For now, let me put on some weight, courtesy of free dinners—from a man whose cunningness to me is nothing but absolute stupidity.

I pray his wife or whoever he lives with, catches his butt.