I Finally Chose Myself After Eight Years of Begging for Love

I finally walked out of my eight-year relationship. He was my first boyfriend, and my heart beat for him. Whenever I saw him, a smile would form on my face. He was my muse, the sugar in my tea. I had pictured a future where I could tell anyone who cared to know that we had been together for this long, and still, I loved him. I loved him with everything in me—my heart, my mind, my very soul. Every part of me belonged to that man.

I could not support him financially, but I was there for him emotionally and physically. I gave him my shoulder to lean on and my chest to lay his head on. Sometimes I would cook with my own money and invite him over. He would eat, use me, and then say, “Adjoa, I’m going,” throwing his shirt over his shoulder as he wiped his mouth and walked out the door.

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He started building his house because I encouraged him to. He had found a good job and was earning well, so I told him he should build his own home instead of living in a family house. In a way, I was preparing my own path to become his wife. He got a piece of land and began the project. Because of that, I never asked him for anything. I believed all his money was going into the building, so I learned to manage on my own.

He had promised to marry me before he started the project, but he finished it without even telling me when he began or when it was completed.

My boyfriend loved money. Everything was about money. He was the type of man who would write on his social media status, “We left home to feed home.” Everything about him smelled of money. If it was not about money, then anything I did was senseless to him. But I did everything anyway.

After the building project was completed, I asked him when he would come to see my family. Guess what he said. He said he did not know. I told him I did not understand his answer, and he said he could not promise me anything. I even involved some of his family members, but they were afraid of him. All they could say was, “If he says he will come to see your parents, relax. He will come.”

He cheated on me. I forgave him and stayed. Once, he slapped me because I had a call and did not answer it. I forgave him. The cheating felt like it happened every day and night. I was treating infections constantly, like I was changing diapers. Whenever I went to the hospital to get treated, I had to beg him to come with me so we could both get help.

I was getting so frustrated. I was emotionally drained because I was the only one carrying the relationship in my heart and on my shoulders.

Because he had introduced me to his mother, when he went back to cheating, I told her. Guess what she said. She told me I was listening to other people too much. She said I was the woman he had introduced to her, so I should keep quiet and not worry. Even if he goes, she said, he will come back.

He was a man I had always prayed for, always gone on my knees for. Whenever things were not going well for him and I tried to encourage him, he would say, “Shut up. What do you know? You don’t know what you’re saying. I need money, and look at what you’re saying.” That day, I felt so sad. I told him that even if what I was saying was nonsense, he could at least say thank you.

I do not know the right word to describe him, but he did not care about how I felt or what I did. It was draining. I would call and he would not answer. He would not call back or offer any explanation. I would text him on WhatsApp, he would read it, and he would not respond. I kept complaining about how it was affecting me. I was always begging him to love me.

Whenever I asked him if he did not want me anymore, he would say, “Oh, I love you.” When I tried to talk things through, he would tell me he was not the talking type. But with his friends and female friends, he was so lovely and full of conversation.

People thought he was taking care of me. Whenever they saw me, they would say, “Ei, Kwesi is really taking care of you.” I covered up for him. I introduced him to my uncle, and whenever my uncle asked when he would come to our house, I made excuses. I said he was busy with his project and would come later. I made so many excuses for him that I began to feel like a fool.

Two years ago, I decided to choose myself because I was losing my mind. Whenever I texted and he did not respond, I would rant, cry, and fall asleep. It started small. Then I reached a point where I stopped complaining. I would text, he would not respond, and slowly I stopped texting altogether. We could go a whole week without hearing from each other. It was not easy for me. I always cried when I was alone. But I was getting tired, and that tiredness became my motivation.

One day, I asked him to help me get a wardrobe. I did not even finish talking before he said no. Just like that. That is how it had been all those years. No. I did not see anything wrong with it at first because I told myself I was not his responsibility, but I believed I at least deserved some kindness. Whenever he was sick, he would come to me to take care of him. I gave him all the care and love I had, even the love I never received myself. He did not care. Everything was about him.

Today, I am here, and I can confidently say that I have walked out of that eight-year relationship for good. We had bought necessary items for marriage, but I asked him to come pick them up. I took my spare keys back from him that same day. It has been four months now, and not a single day have I thought about him. I am done, and I am done for good.

He lost his job recently. I am not entirely happy for this misfortune, but I pray and hope that he meets someone who is exactly like him. Someone who behaves the way he did, so he feels what I felt—what it means to love and not be loved back—and finally understands what it means not to value what you have until it is lost.

His mother has been calling me a lot, telling me stories. She says, “When you met my son, he was not working. You stayed and nurtured him. Now he has been able to build a big house, and just as things are getting better, you want to leave so another woman can come and enjoy? My son is this, my son is that. Nowhere is perfect. Be hopeful and pray. Do not listen to what people will say, because the moment you leave, another woman will come and enjoy your labor.”

My answer is simple: “Ma, I have heard all you have said, but I have made up my mind. If another woman comes and does not have to beg for the things I have been begging for, I will be happy for her. But for me, I am no longer interested.”

This was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I was just tired. Now I understand why some women do not want to be with struggling men. Not all men are like that, but when this man started making money, I truly saw who he was.

I am free now. I do not cry about him anymore. I am not waiting for his calls. His contact is blocked and unsaved. It is so funny that this same man, who treated me like a calamity for months, can now remember all the things I used to do for him. Now that I have stopped, he is using every possible way to reach me. I am not in any new relationship, but I am never going back.

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I am a good woman. A truly good one. I was there for him. He did not value me, so I have left. It is his loss.

I am out of here.

—Adjoa

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