We got married when I was 22 and he was in his late 40’s. My husband had all the qualities of the perfect guy; gentle, loving, caring and most of all, he adored me above everything! Being young and beautiful made me feel powerful and this man made it worse by spoiling me rotten. He would shower me with gifts and treat me like I held his life’s remote control! I would say ‘jump’ and he would ask ‘how high’.
I felt suffocated! I couldn’t find a single fault with him. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of but I wanted more. I needed a real man in my life, not a softie! I needed a man with a spine; a man with the balls to take control of a situation. I know this sounds crazy but I needed him to beat me at least once, just to show his masculine side.
As time went by, I did everything I could to piss him off but with no success! I started asking him where he’d been whenever he came home late and who the woman he was cheating on me with was.
I started beating him, I mean, literally! I would beat him until he asked for mercy! The beatings went on for almost two years. I would even brag about it with my fellow women. Soon, everyone in the area started looking at him and belittling him.
One day he came home at around 9:50 PM. He greeted his children and had bought them gifts. He ignored me the whole time. I pulled him by the collar and dragged him into our bedroom; I locked the door and threw the keys out the window. “I’m going to beat you till you regret the day you were born,” I told him. This time he didn’t beg for mercy, just stood there with his hands in his pockets.
When I raised my hand to slap him, he dodged it and punched me so hard in the stomache I lost my breath. He rained blows on my face and kicked me like I was nothing. I screamed but he wouldn’t stop. I fell down on the flour but not even the blood that was oozing from my nose and mouth could stop him! When the neighbors came to my rescue they found the door locked.
I was beaten till I lost consciousness. I woke up in a hospital bed where I was admitted for eleven days. When I was discharged, I went to my parent’s home thinking he would come to ask for my forgiveness. When he didn’t, I packed my bags and went to ask him to forgive me. I learnt my lesson the hard way. Today I can’t even raise my voice at him.