29/06/2025
My name is David.
I’m not here to bash women, I just want to talk. Maybe someone will learn.
I met Ifeoma when she was fresh out of secondary school.
She was soft, humble, and always called me “sir” even though I was just a regular man struggling to survive.
I had just started a small printing business. I wasn’t rich, but I was managing well.
She used to come to my shop to print job applications for her uncle. That’s how we started talking.
I asked about her dreams. She said she wanted to go to university, but her family couldn’t afford it.
I felt something for her — maybe pity, maybe love, maybe both.
I told her: “Don’t worry, I’ll sponsor you.”
People warned me:
> “You don’t train a woman hoping she’ll marry you.”
“She’ll leave when she levels up.”
But I didn’t listen. I believed I was different. That we were different.
I paid her school fees from year one to final year.
Bought her first phone. Gave her pocket money monthly. Even sold my bike once when she said she needed money for a “school project.”
She called me “my love,” and I believed it.
Sometimes she called me “my husband.” I smiled like a fool. Because in my head, it was just a matter of time.
She graduated. I was so proud. I even bought a suit for her convocation. I stood by her side, smiling like a man that finally made it.
Then NYSC came. That’s when everything started to shift.
She stopped calling like before. Her “babe” changed to “sir” again.
She started posting quotes on her status like:
> “God will give me the man I truly deserve.”
“Sometimes, we outgrow where we started from.”
I asked if we had a problem. She said “You’re like a big brother to me.”
Big what??
I don’t know when brotherhood entered love story.
Before I knew it, she blocked me. Said she needed “space to find herself.”
Few months later, someone sent me her wedding invitation.
She married a banker.
I sat in my shop the whole day, looking at her name on that card.
The same girl I struggled for. The same girl I prayed with. The same girl I thought was “my future.”
I didn’t cry that day. I just folded the invitation, put it inside my drawer, and told God:
> “If this is what love feels like, let me just focus on my business.
Some people say I was foolish.
Maybe I was. But my heart was honest. I gave what I didn’t even have. Not because I was desperate — but because I believed in someone.
Now I know better.
Sometimes you’re not a partner.
You’re just a ladder. They climb you to reach where they’re going — and when they get there, they pull another person up.
But it's okay.
I'm not bitter. I just pray that next time, I’ll be the one someone chooses — not just the one they use to reach someone else.............
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