I married a gay man; he deceived me into marriage.

by Onyinye Ogbuka

For better for worse is what they say, what if it’s already worse and I was being paid. I thought it was a Cinderella story until I found out I married a gay man and he deceived me into marriage.

I married a gay man

I smile blissfully as I roll over and place my hands on the other side of the bed. Something goes off in my head and I pat my hands repeatedly on the bed, clockwise and anti-clockwise.

Where is he? I ask myself. Maybe he went to urinate, some part of me says and I smile. But his side of the bed is cold, maybe he had to attend to something. I smile subconsciously. That husband of mine is a workaholic.

However, he shouldn’t be away for too long, this night is our night and I want some action from him. I feel my core get wet at the thought of his naked body, how many women can boldly say they married an Adonis and a rich one at that. I can shout from the top of the tallest building in Nigeria. I got married to the most handsome man.

I married a gay man

I check the time and it’s three a.m. I wonder which business deal he is working on now that would make him leave me alone. Three a.m is not a bad time to give him some crazy action. The thought of riding him on his large office chair has me getting down from my bed excitedly. He is bound to shiver this night. I check myself out in the mirror and I love what I see.

I always wake up beautiful and I am grateful for that. I make a beeline for his office and opened the door to discover he is not there. I wonder where he could be. I take the elevator down to the underground where there is a gym. I look around but he is not here. I decide to take the stairs, wondering if at all he is safe. The last floor is for our domestic workers.

He sent all of them home save for our driver and I decided to call on the driver to help me look for my husband. I don’t know which room belongs to my driver but I hear sounds and follow the direction of the sound. I hear my driver’s voice and he is moaning loudly. What the hell is going on? Did he sneak a girl into the room? My husband would be so pissed when he finds out. I barge into the room and I meet with the greatest shock of my life. 

Married to a gay man

My husband is panting heavily and driving himself furiously into the anus of the driver who is bent from behind. I don’t know when I let out a shout at the horror before me and they both freeze. His driver attempts to get off the bed but my husband holds him in place and continues what he is doing. I stand rooted to the spot till my husband finishes with a loud grunt and pulls out, he has no condom on.

He smiles as he stands up and struts nakedly and proudly to wear his clothes as he holds my gaze and asks if I want to join them. That is my cue before I run out of the room and take the elevator. I crouch as tears make their way out of my eyes. I have been living a lie. There is a barrage of thoughts, I developed a full-on headache and I can’t seem to hold my tears. I make my way out of the elevator to my side of the bed and cry myself to sleep.

Seeking support

I wake up to the morning sun peeking through the blinds, all the memories of last night’s horror come rushing back and that is when I realize I have a banging headache. I try standing up but I am unable to, so I steady myself. I want out of this marriage. I can’t be involved with a man with such a lifestyle. I feel tears run down my face again, my eyes are swollen and weary. I would soon exhaust my tanker of tears. I thought this was forever, that it was a Cinderella kind of stuff. I didn’t know I was going from frying pan to fire.

I married a gay man

The more I cry, the more I begin to wonder if he ever loved me, if his feelings for me were ever genuine, if he felt what I felt, if the vows we said to each other were from his heart because mine was certainly from my heart.

I want to see my parents.

I dress in a rich aunty boubou and drive to the other side of the estate where my parents live. I just want to cry in their arms. I get home and they are both seated in front of the TV watching an early morning show.  I greet them, and when they reply they notice my countenance and switch off the TV to welcome me. They ask what is wrong and I am unable to control it when I burst into tears. I slip from the chair onto the slippery floor and cry while they gather around me. 

I keep on crying and hiccuping and when it seems I have spent myself, I narrate the horror I saw the previous night. My parents are gobsmacked, they don’t know what to say. They wrap me around their arms, deep in thoughts.

I married a gay man

After a while, we sit down and my parents think that I confront him. We are a respectable family and it would be wrong for the media to get wind of the fact that one of the sons of the elite family of Lagos is gay and our family unfortunately is tied to them in holy matrimony. I draw comfort from them as my mum is beside herself in making me comfortable. 

I leave after spending a few hours with them, their presence has lifted my spirit.

I go home and wait for my husband to get his ass back home. A shameless man like him should be grovelling for my forgiveness for indulging in such a shameful act. He comes back home and makes his way into the office. I don’t waste time following behind.

I tell him I am willing to forget the horror of yesterday but he must send his driver away or else I will divorce him and expose him to the media. He laughs long, hard and derisively. I am incensed and I ask why the hell he is laughing.

He looks at me and smiles sinisterly, “you dirty looking, unkempt piece of trash, I picked you up from the filthiest gutters and you think that you can now give me orders.”

I freeze on the spot.

I married a gay man/Pinterest pin/Mildstrings

Why gay men marry women

I grew up in the slums of Lagos. As the first child of my parents, life was hard. My parents tried their best to take care of us but it seemed their best would never be enough, realistically, it was never enough. Being exposed to the harsh realities of life made me appreciate whatever I got. Hunger was a constant companion, I wore undersized clothes and was the object of mockery. We often prayed that the rain would not be too heavy. One time rain destroyed our home and we had to camp out temporarily under the bridge.

I managed to finish secondary school and was working as a cleaner in my husband’s office the day he met me. It was in the wee hours of the morning. I had come in to clean his office but I did not know had he slept over. I was shocked to see him there but he asked to me continue in a gruff voice. I was afraid he would sack me but he calmed me down and promised not to sack me if I talked to him.

I married a gay man

A few hours into our conversation, we were laughing and I had loosened up completely. He asked for my number and I told him I had no phone. He thought I was lying but I kept insisting. He looked surprised to hear that but quickly shelved that look. He asked me to come into the office early the next day, he gave me an iPhone and taught me how to use it. From there on, we could chat and talk and soon he asked me to stop working. I told him I could not because I wanted to take care of my family. When he insisted on seeing my family, with shame, I took him to where my family lived and he looked so out of place.

In three months he had transformed my family. He moved us to the place where we now lived, he gave my father money to start a business and he changed my siblings’ schools. He sent them all abroad. A few months later, he asked me to marry him, I could not say no. He was my prince charming, they say the rich don’t marry the poor, he broke that barrier and came for me.  We had the wedding many ladies would kill for and I was initiated into the Lagos elite society. He didn’t want me to work, according to him, he is working so hard so I can enjoy his money. More clothes, shoes, wigs and designers than I can wear is what he gets me every month. More cars than I can drive. I had also travelled to several countries. 

Then it hit me, he had been buying my silence all along and I was a fool to believe that it was love. 

I am rooted to the spot in his office as tears make their way out. 

Signs a married man is gay

You this golddigger, you think I gave you everything for free. You must be a fool, you think I am your prince, I am gay and so? At least, I am better than some men that don’t sleep with their wives. At least, I touch you and I fuck you well and whatever you point your hands to I give you. The driver will not leave and that is my stand. You are free to leave but you only leave with what you came with which is nothing. You think we got married in the US because I wanted to give you the wedding of your dreams. We got married in a state that does not allow for alimony for gold-diggers like you.


The document I asked you to sign on our wedding night, did you think it was for this house as I told you? It was the non-disclosure agreement that the day you walk out of this marriage, you will lose everything that I ever gave you. Nothing is in your name or your parents’ name. They are all in my name. So don’t think you are smart because you are a dumb bimbo with a great cunt.

After all, that is all you are good for; fucking and nothing more and don’t forget you have a duty to give me children. So walk out and I will fling you back to where I brought you from.  I am sure the press would have a field day, so dear, don’t give them that chance to feast on your corpse. Nobody knows I am gay and if you whistle, I own the media so you can be sure that it will backfire because no one will believe you. I will act like this did not happen, so turn a blind eye to it. Enjoy the fuck that I give you, bear my kids and enjoy the world I have given you. 

Signs your spouse is gay

He walked out of the office and I find myself heaped on the floor, I have been a fool. I bring out my phone and call my parents. I still my voice and tell them not to worry about it again, that my husband has changed and has promised never to do it again. I make them swear to take that secret to their grave and they do. I cut the call and cry out in agony. I can’t send my parents and siblings back to the slums.

I bend my head in regret and let out a loud cry.


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