>NEXT: VALUES II
I watched Naomi walk away, yet again. She was the only woman who had the audacity to walk out on me… and do so without consequences. I hated the smell of defeat. I saw this challenge as one of my court cases; it didn’t matter if my client was right or wrong; my job was to prove them right and gather as many facts as possible before the jury. I had to win.
I went back to Abuja the next day. I left Naomi in Akwa Ibom. I finally landed on my couch. The more Naomi stressed me out, the more fascinating I found her. She was irritating me, yet I found her defiance sensual. I poured myself a bottle of Da Vinci wine. I sipped, conniving.
I wracked my head. I needed to bend her to my will, spice her to my taste, and wield absolute control over her. I needed one power move: not too much. Real men don’t talk much. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Obsession was knocking on my door—what an allure.
I was falling deeper the more I tried to bait her. Just then and there, an idea pitched itself to me, and I bought it.
Early the next morning, I sent my PA to Naomi’s mother. Tell her:
“I respect Naomi’s decision to cut me off. I’ll leave for the sake of her happiness and the well-being of my child—but on the condition that she proves the paternity of the boy, and her maternity. I want a DNA test. I want hair samples and blood samples. If she proves it, I’ll credit Naomi’s mother the sum of 50 million naira to better their lives, to change their environment, start a business, and lay a solid foundation for the future of the young boy. It’s not too much money to guarantee his well-being for a lifetime.”
I told him to make sure Naomi was not aware of the deal between him and her mother, and that her mother didn’t need to inform Naomi about the source of the money. I didn’t need the credit. “I’m after their welfare, and I want to make up for the past. If this condition isn’t met, I’d involve the law and the media.”
The young man traveled by road, as he couldn’t secure a flight ticket that same day.
The old lady took the bait. I don’t know how the woman handled it, but my PA returned with the samples the following day. He was upset and wore a frown, but I ignored him. He claimed the lady assured him that if Naomi were to find out at any point, it wouldn’t be from her.
I took her blood samples into the dark, segregated corners, and with her blood mingled with mine, a binding oath was performed. Naomi would become obsessed with me—she’d love me recklessly and obey my every command.
In three days, it kicked into effect. She called me and apologized. She said she wanted me to be a part of her son’s life. I asked if she had any suitors. She said yes, but with her trauma, she hadn’t entertained many. I told her to delete their numbers and block all of them. She did.
The man told me I had to renew the charm every month with her undies and bodily fluids, and to make sure she didn’t spend time with another man, else it would wear off.
I relocated Naomi and our son to Abuja, still not having any plans for her. She soon became all over me, like old times. I had won. She doted on me. She massaged my ego and managed my house like a home. I stopped her from working, and I put her in the house—in my house. I gave her everything she wanted, and she seemed happy. She began to look more enticing. Issues arose when she noticed I was talking with other ladies.
I avoided conversations that were intended to express clarity. I was emotionally unavailable to her and her son, who looked exactly like her, but he did behave like me.
“Frank, what are we?” she cornered me one day over dinner.
“Naomi, please. I need some time to figure things out.”
“Time? Frank—time?”
Meanwhile, Naomi’s mother was already asking about the 50 million naira I promised. Promised? Where was it written that I promised? I responded that there was a slight change since I was now taking care of the two, but I would not leave her unattended. I just needed some time.
Naomi soon became distant. She started keeping malice with me. I was curious as to why my charms weren’t taking effect on her. The native priest said Naomi was naturally very stubborn and had a strong will. Moreover, her mother’s prayers were interrupting his scheme.
I decided to play by the rules, realizing she was getting more and more attractive and I could lose her at any point in time. I became intentional. I asked:
“Naomi, would you marry me?”
She froze. Then she blasted. “Marry you? Is that how you propose? Where’s the ring—audio ring?”
I responded, “Before a man proposes to a woman, especially in a loud way, he should be sure she’s interested in spending a lifetime with him.”
She didn’t answer, but she started behaving well. She stopped picking fights and became a pleaser. I had her right where I wanted her to be.
“I want my food fresh. I don’t like food from the previous day.”
“I don’t like going out too much; I’d rather spend time with you indoors.”
“Don’t wear makeup. I want my woman to be natural.”
“I want your loyalty. I don’t want you entertaining other men.”
I placed all these demands, and she met them, expecting the ring from me. I continued seeing other ladies.
One day she asked me, “If I’m committed to you, shouldn’t you at least be committed to me?”
“Don’t worry about all those ladies. A man would always go out, but you are the woman in my house, sleeping on my bed every night. They don’t come close to you, Naomi,” I responded. But I wanted to keep her on her toes, to let her know she was replaceable and to keep her constantly pleasing me, since she was competing with tens of other women.
That’s how three years passed. Naomi began to see through my webs, but I didn’t even need the charms to keep her grounded. She was too invested to leave. She didn’t have the strength or courage to walk away. I was no longer obsessed with her, but I did like her.
The gifts I gave her occasionally could no longer please her. She was always crying. She never raised her voice at me. I had utterly broken her once again—her strong will, her pride, her confidence. She was now very quiet and submissive. Her smiles were now as rare as a lunar eclipse.
She became very boring to me. She couldn’t entertain me in and out of the bedroom. I decided to provoke her; I needed some action and drama in the house.
I started bringing other ladies to the house. The first time, she ignored me. The second time, she ignored me. The third time, I sent the lady to go and ask Naomi to bring us breakfast. To my surprise, Naomi brought the breakfast upstairs. I was disappointed. I walked to the bathroom, utterly irritated. I was brushing when I heard the lady scream. I rushed out and saw Naomi had poured hot tea on her. I smiled but quickly covered it. I didn’t yell at Naomi. I just stared at her. That feisty spirit was still in her—something I really liked about her. I ordered an Uber to take the lady home. Naomi left angrily. I followed her around the house, constantly staring at her, pretending like I was searching for something.
That’s how it was. Since Naomi no longer spoke to me and was a shell of herself, I’d provoke her. I loved when she shouted at me; she looked really beautiful and hot when upset. I loved the movement of her lips whenever she spat aggression. It was the only way I felt I could talk to her.
Until one morning, I woke up. The house was very quiet. I didn’t hear footsteps, TV sounds, or the water running in preparation for my son’s schooling. I didn’t perceive the smell of food: the fresh food I so much liked to have. I looked around; nothing unusual. I found a note.
“I used to tell you, the day you know
my worth, I’d be long gone.
I want to edit that… I should have said,
‘the day I’d wake up and know my worth,
I’d muster the courage to leave.’
You have destroyed me, wasted my life.
You have made sure I have nothing to my name—
no accomplishment, no business, no achievement,
no investment in my personality.
You made yourself the well in a desert.
You used comfort as a trap, and you subjected me to
'emotional abuse.'
I woke up this morning and realized my worth.
I said, ‘Naomi, you are more than this. You are beautiful,
intelligent, and smart. The right man is out there waiting—
a man who would serve you, cook for you, nurture you;
who would be a giver, not only a receiver. A man who would
worship the ground on which you stand. A man who would be
your father, and to whom you would be a daughter. A man who
would be your biggest supporter. A man who would lead you
with purpose and clarity; who would push you to chase your dreams.
Who wouldn’t hide you, but show you to the world. I know he’s out there.
I can smell him.’
This is goodbye, Frank. I have realized my worth, and I have chosen
the path of courage. I’d be lying if I said I’m fine.
I’ll think of you at least a hundred times.
I’ll cry myself to sleep, definitely lose some sleep.
In being afraid to lose you, I have lost myself.
In order to find myself, I have to lose you.
For the first time in my life, I choose myself above everyone else,
including our son.
I know I’ll be lonely, but I’m not afraid to face the world, and it hurts
as a single mother.
I love you, Frank, but it couldn’t be more obvious that you never
created a space in your life for me. I’m just a side attraction.
I may not be able to love another as I have loved you.
I may never stop loving you or aching for you,
but I’ll never know what I’m capable of achieving or accomplishing
if I don’t step out.
I choose bravery.
Don’t bother looking for me. I’m gone. Your son would be with my
mother. I’m doing this for him. He needs the best version of his mother.
You never gave him a home, so don’t blame me for my decision.
I believe this is a lesson. I don’t reprimand myself for my mistakes
and weaknesses. I accept my flaws, my wrongs, and I forgive myself.
I accept that this is imperative for where God is taking me. We all need
hurdles on our journey of life to appreciate our points of arrival.
From the woman who loved you like none other would,
Naomi.”
I chuckled. Naomi the drama queen. I could still smell her perfume. I opened the wardrobe, and her clothes were still intact. However, I noticed a small box was gone; the smallest of them all. Her expensive hairs, her designer shoes, and perfumes sat staring at me. I stretched and went to shower. She just needed attention since I hadn’t touched her lately. What konji can do. I liked it when her head touched like that. I showered and went to the office. Can Naomi do without me? She loves me too much to go anywhere. It’s just a couple of days before she comes begging.
I waited a few days—no calls. Ha! She’s just proving stubborn. But I was beginning to get uneasy, as the cook couldn’t satisfy my taste buds like Naomi. I was beginning to feel lonely, as I couldn’t perceive her scent in my room anymore. I couldn’t provoke her and entertain myself anymore; I couldn’t try to make her jealous anymore.
After two weeks, I dialed her number for the first time; switched off. I became afraid. I called her mother. Her mother said Naomi was admitted to the hospital and had just checked out two days ago. She refused to disclose her location. I began to panic. She asked if I hadn’t been hearing from her. I said we had a slight misunderstanding and that she needed some space. I hung up.
I quickly called someone and asked them to track Naomi’s mobile number, it was out of reach. I was uneasy. I tried to calm myself, but I was shaking inside. I opened her Facebook to reach her. Her last post was captioned, “You’d lose the moon while chasing the stars.”
She looked stressed; she looked lifeless, and she wore a sad smile. Only then could I really see the pain in her eyes. In that moment of silence, I began to hear everything she used to complain about: my mind games, my infidelity, my detachment and deceit, my avoidance, my nonchalance, my ego, my pride, my childish irresponsibility, my absence, and lack of protection.
Good thing I always planned for a day like this: as a man, always have them in surplus. I called the newest girl to come over, but she wasn’t harmonizing. She couldn’t help me select what I’d wear to the office; she smelled terribly, she wasn’t smart, she wasn’t honest—she stole my accessories and money. The other one I brought was just not it. I began to miss her(Naomi). Only then did I realize I had really lost Naomi. I had a good woman, and I lost her.
ORATOR:
You might be a narcissist without notice. You didn’t decide to be a narcissist; the circumstances of life and environmental factors shaped your behavior to make you the way you are. Many don’t know—they don’t realize it.
Check yourself if you behave in any way like Frank. Do you seek control over others? Do you try to humble and humiliate people? Do you think yourself highly superior to everyone? Do you ever see the need to apologize when you are wrong? Do you try to deliberately inflict pain on others? Do you manipulate and gaslight situations? Do you neglect the very one who is standing by you—the one you lead on with promises you never intend to fulfill? You send your spouse far away, knowing you are the very air they breathe, and you watch your spouse crumble. You feed off the pain.
There’s always a detour, a reroute; change is always an alternative path. Do you want to be wild grass or a fruitful, bountiful tree? Define yourself. Train yourself. You don’t benefit much by bruising humanity. Decide to always check and review yourself. Always strive to be a better person.
What if you are a parent and you are emotionally abusive? Your narcissistic traits would vehemently cause turbulence in your family. You may be an actor; the world may see you as Mr./Mrs. Perfect, but only you know the stuff you are truly made of. Just because you are a Christian doesn’t mean you have an automatic escape from this tendency. You have to consciously rewrite your script.
Stop damaging your soul by swindling people’s emotions. Every life sincerely matters.
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