I am officially a pariah. You would think it was a choice I made but No.
There was no voting involved and none of the Museveni – Mbabazi drama with
somebody vying for my pariah position. No polls were conducted to weigh how I
felt about it. I was knighted a pariah. It crept up to me and became an
extension to my already existing triple threat of a name bonding and mutating like
the T-Virus in Resident Evil.
It would seem that saying that you can never date a married man in the
middle of an argument with your girlfriends can silence a room. Don’t look at
me like that, if I had known I would never have let the words escape my mouth.
But wait scratch that…on second thought I would have gladly screamed it out on
top of the Clock Tower. My girls were looking at me like I had suddenly grown
Cerberus’ three heads and spoken in Parseltongue. The attention seemed so good
that I repeated it and still the silence continued. Jemimah suddenly guffawed,
called me a lunatic and that broke the silence. Suddenly I was awash with
torrents of reasons why married men are awesome. Confounded I caught snippets
of conversation that made me realized that I was a virgin, a total greenhorn to
the changing trends of the ever revolving social existence. I was, as they say
a certified social outcast.
So what was it about married men that had females eating out of the palm
of their hands? Was there a pheromone outbreak in married men that was
spreading like the Black Plague and infecting every girl in sight? What is it
that these Pied Pipers have that lets them have their cake and eat it too?
Being a bit of a curious cat I thought maybe getting a married boyfriend would
get me the answers but that had my moral compass spinning out of control I gave
up the idea. I got creative and decided that my friends would make excellent
lab rats (I mean what friends are for if not for experimentation). Of course the lab rats (Oops I mean friends)
had be fed and watered so I made a get together out of it and got muchomo, 2
boxes of Namaqua and of course some black forest cake (God knows girls go nuts
for cake) until they were ready to spill their guts.
In the glow of relaxed satisfaction I found myself in a lucid moment
where I saw the world in a whole new light.
With trading stories came the comprehension that the world did not exist
just as I envisioned it. In my world married men are usually represented with
older men graying, blackened teeth, distended stomachs that could house food to
feed a small village and the smell of Old Spice. I had completely forgotten
that they included the likes of the so handsome Brian Mulondo, Ben Mwine,
Maurice Mugisha, Boris Kodjoe of this universe who were still young, debonair
and exuded sex appeal and maturity like dark chocolate. I would probably lose
my mind to them like all the other females.
The thing about wedded men at present is that they are strong, confident
and are settled all the things that the feminine specie is looking for. The
guys we went to school with are viewed as hustlers and salesmen of pipe dreams,
castles in the air and promises of green pastures when they can barely wipe
their asses (Don’t curse!! Not my words). The allure in married men is like
that phase where you dated a bad boy. You know it wrong and won’t last but you
find it irresistible that your inner goddess is released and your wild, darker
alter ego can go on a rampage with no reservations and judgments if only for a
few day pockets of time.
One friend (name withheld) narrated to me of the little bubble of
happiness she lived in while dating an Adonis of a married man. Their romance begun
with sharing a related social circle, spying each other across the room, his
offer to buy a drink, her flash of a beautiful smile proceeding to giddy
giggles, his whispered promises of an unforgettable night, her glazed lustful
eyes, their drive to the nearest hotel, the trembling anticipation as he rushes
to unlock the door, the fumbles to get tear everything off and finally the
culminating to an orgasms of defining magnitude. After that they were both
hooked and were junkies that would anything for the next fix. Her life revolved
around shopping sprees (reason he tells
the wife he is broke and why can’t she pay anyway), the sneaking around
sleeping in different hotels (reason he
is away on so many business trips & workshops) that was just an
aphrodisiac. She described it as being on a year long high, unnoticing of the
time that flew by.
That lasted until it started to dawn on her that she was starting to
fall for him and she was falling so far in that abyss she could not stop
herself and who could blame her. The remarkable sex, the pampering and all the
excitement has a way of working with your mind. It started to dawn on her that
she wanted more than hotel rooms, stolen kisses and whispered phone
conversations. She wanted the whole packages until it hit that he was and could
never be hers at least not permanently. He was hers just for a few hours of a
day but never hers to hold, cuddle, confide and even go home to. The man
already had a wife and children for that. So commenced the pleas for him to
stay longer clinging to him if only for a little while, the prohibited phones
while he is home, questions of his whereabouts and all the while her
insecurities started to show. He was patient at first, understanding even all
the while being firm and reminding her that they were just having an
arrangement. In poor taste he let her go for misconduct and failure to adhere
to proper mistress etiquette. No matter how much courage you muster up when
getting a shot at the doctor it doesn’t take the pain away and neither did the
preparation she made matter. The breakup ate at her self esteem filling her
with self loathing, regret, heart wrenching pain that would not go away no
matter how many tequila shots she threw back. That was the price she paid.
The famous adage goes “It’s better to have loved than to not have loved
at all” but personally I think I would want to pass over on this particular
torment. I have had the fortune or misfortune to know wives whose husbands have
been unfaithful and the anguish and hurt that they felt and dispersed nearly
floored my heart. Clinging to their love children, warm tears flowing like
rivulets on their beautiful faces these powerful beings who are career women,
mothers, wives, sisters are bereft of any oomph to fight and live forever in
doubt of how worthy they are in their own capacities. To be on the other side
of the looking glass has lent me an empathy that gives me the courage to make a
choice to have no part in causing this pain to another woman. As one guy’s
mother said “If they are cheating on their current wife what makes your
relationship so special?” This mother is so right and I know this because
mothers are usually right.
In truth I have been tempted and given so many chances to date married
men who want to offer me the world but saying no and sticking to your word is
where the true test lies. I never did like to share my men anyway. I am
generous to a fault but when it comes to a guy am not budging on that. I am one
of those girls who want to be your only one and would make you the sole
guardian of her heart. I do not get this sharing thing, perhaps it makes sense
to some people but I can’t make heads or tails of it.
