Never EVER Talk Bad Of Your Husband
To Anyone…Learn!!!
Wow! This is a MUST read story guys! Came across this
piece online and not sure who wrote it, but it’s a great
story with a solid lesson to teach and a reminder to every
woman. Please continue reading and don’t forget to
share…..someone out there might need this!
“Biyi hasn’t worked for that long?” Dayo’s voice drips with
resentment. “For real?” “He’s been trying,” I say in feeble
attempt to defend my husband. “You know how the
economy is.”
…My husband and I had vowed never to bring in a third
party into our relationship but with a bank account
screaming for revival, I need to share my burden with
someone else. I grip the phone. Dayo is unusually quiet.
“You still there?” I ask. “Hello?” “I am here,” she says. “I
just didn’t know things were this bad. And all this while, I
thought Biyi was providing for the home.” But he is, I
argue silently. Well, maybe not financially for now, but in
every way else, Biyi is a rock. “It’s not that bad.” My
words sound frail. Dayo clucks her tongue. “You might as
well be a widow.”
The words hit me like a fist. “Na you I blame,” she
continues, oblivious to the damage her words have
caused.
“Me? Why?” She is blaming me for this? Seriously?
“Why do you keep paying the bills?”
“Because there is no one else to do it,” I protest, upset.
“For real? He drives your car too?”
“He needs it,” I mutter. “To attend job interviews and
stuff. He gets back late sometimes.”
“How late are you talking?
“Nine, ten…ish.”
Dayo pauses for a second. “I hate to say this gurl, but
your husband spending your money on another woman.”
Whoa! Hang on. Where did that come from? “Haba,
Dayo. Biyi would never—” “Look, I know men,” she slices
in. “You are his moneybag and he will take you for a ride
as long as it takes. Where is your dignity, gurl?” Ride.
Dignity. Moneybag. Ouch. “But he’s a good guy,” I
manage. Can my husband be using me? It had never
crossed my mind in the past, but I now wonder if Biyi is
actually having an affair.
“I trust my wonderful Dennis…,” Dayo is saying. I barely
listen. My eyes are on the clock. It’s almost midnight and
Biyi isn’t home. I force myself to hear what Dayo is
saying about Dennis Ono, her multimillionaire-oil-
company-golden-husband. Gosh I envy her life, her
perfect marriage. “My marriage is wonderful,” Dayo says,
as if in affirmation to my undeclared words. “But only
because I show Dennis who the boss is. He cannot try
nonsense with me. Abi, you think it’s easy to get ten
thousand pounds a month as pocket money?” She really
gets ten grand a month? That’s like, my entire annual
salary in my crappy job plus bonuses. Life is unfair.
Honestly. “I am Biyi’s wife,” I say. “I cannot just desert
him.” Or can I? At this rate… “In that case,” there is an
edge to her voice now, “give him an ultimatum. He gets a
job in two weeks or you are out of that marriage.”
“I—”
“Look, I know his type,” she says with conviction. “He
conveniently won’t get a job as long as you keep dishing
out your money.”
“But—”
“Starve him,” she adds. “No sex. Make life hell. You are
not an ATM machine.”
Keys jangle in the hallway. Biyi is home. “Talk later,” I say
to Dayo. “He’s back.” “Stand your ground,” Dayo
whispers menacingly. “Ultimatum. Two weeks.” I hang
up with a sigh. My husband is leaning against the door
frame. For a second my heart falters. He looks tired,
drawn. But Dayo’s words punctuate my compassion.
“Where have you been?” Biyi gives me a side smile. “No
hug?” I jerk my head at the wall clock.” Its midnight.” “I
had a job interview in Birmingham,” he says. “I called you
tell you I was stuck in traffic but I kept getting your
voicemail. What’s wrong?” I cock my head. Is that a whiff
of female perfume? It is. Dayo is right. He has been with
another woman. With my car. Spending my money. My
head spins. “Biyi,” I glare at him, “Where are you coming
from?” He steps back, surprised. “I went to Birmingham
—”
“Did you get it?” I screech. “The job?”
Biyi shakes his head. “I didn’t—”
This is the last straw. I wrench my hand out. “My car
keys.”
He gives me a hard level stare. “What is wrong with you,
Toni? Did I offend you?”
“Pass my keys!”
He thrusts the car keys to into my palm. I push past him,
grab my duffel bag and stuff my overnight things into it. I
know I am acting crazy but I have to show him that I
would not be taken for a ride. That I am not a moneybag.
That I have dignity. I zip the bag up and spin around. My
husband is staring at me. “Is everything all right with you,
sweetheart?”
“Get out of my way.”
“Where are you going with that bag?”
“I need to clear my head.” I am still yelling.
“Can we talk first?” Biyi suggests.
“I don’t want to talk. Get out of my way.”
He moves out of my path. I swipe a hand across my face,
smearing my cheeks with mascara. “Don’t look for me. I
will be back when my head clears.” I rush out of the
house, jump into my car. My rage doubles as the
feminine scent permeates the car. He has been with a
woman in my car. I feel like an idiot.
* * *
I pull up in front of Dayo’s mansion. Her husband’s
Porsche is in the driveway, and the porch lights illuminate
my dreary form as I reach the door. I ball my fists to
knock, but a scream freezes the motion.
“Kill me!” I hear Dayo scream. “Good for nothing idiot.
Womaniser of the century!” Whoa. Momentarily, I am
unable to move. My hand hovers in the air. Dull thuds,
muffled screams. Dennis curses. “I warned you never to
serve me stew that is not freshly cooked!” “Am I your
slave?” Dayo yells back. “If you want fresh stew, get your
PA to cook it for you. Or you think I don’t know about
her? You think…”
Dayo’s words are silenced by another thump. My hands
fall to my side as a flurry of blows stifle her cries. I want
call the police, do something…anything. But I cannot
move. And so I shut my eyes tight and listen as my friend
is pummelled by her husband. The beating stops. I
should dash to my car, but something holds me back. “I
am sorry I got you upset darling,” Dayo finally says. Her
voice is laced with pain. “It is my fault. I should have
cooked for you. I…Toni wouldn’t let me get off the
phone…its her fault.”
“Next time you talk to me like that, I will tattoo a punch
on your forehead,” Dennis growls. “Get into the kitchen
and make me fresh stew. And do something about that
leech you call a friend.”
That is enough for me. I sprint back to my car and drive
home.
* * *
A knock sounds on the window. Biyi. I wind down and he
gives me a smile. “Head clear now?” he asks. “Leave me
alone,” I mutter. Dayo’s wonderful Denis beats her up?
And she never mentioned?
“I will leave you alone in two seconds,” Biyi says. There is
a twinkle in his eyes. “But first, get out of the car.” I
oblige, grudgingly. “What?” He reaches under the car seat
and pulls out a small basket. “I didn’t come home
straight from the interview. I stopped over at the
Perfume shop to get you this.” He hands the basket over.
Inside is a range of exotic feminine perfumes and a small
card. I pull the card open, read the words: “Thank you for
your support during the hardest times of my life! I love
you.”
“That’s why I was late,” he explains as he pulls me into a
warm embrace. “You have been so good to me, Toni. I
couldn’t have asked for a better wife.” I can’t reply. My
throat is lumpy.
“When you left the house to clear your head, I got a call
back from the recruiter,” he says with a beam. “God
answers prayers, babe. I got the job. It’s a package you
won’t believe. Let’s go in. I’ll tuck you into bed and you
can tell me what’s bothering you?”
* * *
I awaken to a text message from Dayo. “Denis is flying
me to Seychelles this weekend. This is what you get when
you stand your ground. You have to be a no nonsense
gurl! Don’t you just love my life? Ciao sweetheart Bleep.”
I type a quick response back: “Ciao! and i deleted her
number right away.
Now, this is one story every woman should read. The
grass is never greener on the other side, best believe that.
No matter how good a friend’s marriage it, NEVER EVER
compare with yours. It’s DEADLY and could cost you so
much!
by Abimbola Dare

Ok

nice one,how wonderful marriage will be if women can stop discussing their marita isssues with their parents and friends

Inevitable exhortation for d pius wife.

True talk. Should go for the husband too though