Why I Left My Family For Another Woman

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I left my family for another woman. And this other woman didn’t even want anything solid, she just wanted companionship. When I asked her to marry me, she said no, I wasn’t surprised because she had already told me she did not want to marry again. But I still walked out on my wife and two children to be with her, the other woman; another woman.

I have only known hard work all my life. My grandfather was a mason, so was my father before me. And even though I had the opportunity for higher education, I could not find a suitable job, so I took up my family’s profession, and with my advantage of higher education, the business thrived.

I met my wife when she was a student nurse. In fact I met her while working on a contract I had won with her school. I had been contracted to build a number of tutor’s bungalows when she caught my eye. We became fast friends, and then lovers. We were the best of friends, she was funny, smart and so down to earth. I was so in love with her then that the thought of another woman did not even cross my mind, ever.

Not long after I started seeing her, her mother who happened to be her sole provider passed away. She was by then halfway through school, and would have been forced to drop out had I not stepped in and taken up the financial responsibility.

I was raised in a broken home. When my parents divorced, my father insisted on keeping my siblings and I. It was complete chaos in that home with my father and his wife. My stepmother was young, did not have children of her own and was put in a situation to raise three children, one teenager and two preteens. She was in over her head, and my father, he just lived like nothing was amiss. I remember crying for my mother many nights, I missed her. When my father was still married to her life as I knew it was smooth and fun. With my stepmother, I was always confused and afraid, I did not know where the next slap would come from.

So when my girlfriend finally became my wife, I let her know I’d rather not have children if we were going to break up and torture our children. I let her know how my parent’s broken marriage scarred me.

My wife reassured me we would work through any problems we would ever have. She told me she knew I loved her, and she appreciated how much I adored her. And she promised to reciprocate my love.

All was great with us. She graduated from nursing school and we had our first child two years later. The second one followed two years after the first one. Then my wife was transferred to a big, busy hospital in Accra. That is when my woes began.

In the beginning it was innocent remarks about how most of the other nurses were married to doctors, and how romantic it all looked. Then it moved to, “Can’t you find another job?”

And then she began pressuring me to invest in importing goods from China. She just wanted to tell her colleagues her husband was a businessman, because she felt there was something shameful about me being a mason.

The nagging eventually shifted from criticizing my profession to tearing my person down. My hands were too calloused, I chewed too loudly, I sneezed too much, my breath stank. She said my teeth were yellowed. Out of the blue she began complaining I snored too loud and started sleeping in our children’s room. Everything I did, she complained about.

Everything about me became a complaint; the way I walked, talked, dressed, ate and parented. It was as if she was requiring me to stop being me and become another person, probably one of her doctors.

And I tried, I tried to make her happy. It just wasn’t possible. And because she knew I was afraid to break up with her for the sake of my children, she had no incentive to change.

It went on for at least two and a half years; the belittling, the verbal abuse. The harder I tried, the more she emasculated me. I was always either really sad or really angry. I began staying out late and leaving home early to avoid her; it was a miserable life for me.

One day I was parked at a popular tilapia joint, sleeping in my car when a woman knocked on my passenger window and motioned for me to roll down the window. I did. When she spoke to me her tone was so kind and full of concern.

“Why do you always park here and sleep? Go home,” She said.

I smiled at her and said, “Home is unbearable.”

And to my everlasting shame, a lone tear streamed down my cheek.

She pretended she hadn’t seen the tear, and she gave me a bottle of water to wash my face. Then she invited me to join her and her friends. That is how I came to know her; another woman.

When you’re in the chaos, you don’t realize how fast you’ve been running, how extra hard you’ve been working, and how very exhausted you are, until someone stands behind you and says, “It is alright, you can fall down now, I will catch you.”

So I fell. For another woman. And she caught me. Widowed with grown children and not wanting to marry again, she caught me.

That is how and why I left my family for another woman. Unlike my father, I did not tear the children away from their mother, I love them, I still love my ex even. But I am never going back, I may die, or worse, kill her.

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