The last draw, strike three, one last chance. For me, it’s the voice that booms in my head, “We, you, I need to leave!” The realisation that nothing will change. They will never change. Coming to terms that it’s not about you but them, or at least you try to console yourself.
Being a big fan of sci-fi let me tell you my two “Get Out” moments. Names withheld so as to avoid defamation charges, my two love affiliates *X-267 and *X-78.
Growing up, I could say my mother was very strict on me. Barely being given permission to leave the house and when allowed to, a 6pm curfew. This, therefore, warranted a rebellion from me. The notion being, “Heri kuomba msamaha kuhusu ruhusa.” Anyway, we’re past that phase and my mother and I are more or less besties.
Now picture dating someone who expected you to ask them for permission when going out. Wanting to know all the nitty gritty. With who? Where? When? Time of arrival and departure? Madness! I now have the courage to say so. That’s what it felt like dating *X-267. Being back at my mother’s rules. More of dating my ‘mother’.
Everything else was good. The dates, intimacy. But being with someone who watches my every move and sends me paragraphs in the middle of the night, insisting that I don’t ‘respect’ him just because I chose to hang out with my friends in his absence, was nothing but diabolical. Control freaks, Get Out Now!
If someone had told me earlier that anyone who cheats on their partner with you and starts dating you afterwards would do the same with you, I would stand my ground and say, but not *X-78. Acha tu nicheke.
At first, it was peaches and cream. He had a habit of calling me first thing in the morning just to hear my voice, check up on me during the day and of course, hear about my day later in the night. He would also pull up randomly on me to see me just because he missed me and wouldn’t come empty handed. I was swooped off my feet, to say the least.
However, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I didn’t even have to dig through heaps of evidence to catch him cheating. A woman’s intuition never lies. Rather, mine never fails. What he did to his previous was exactly the same; copy-paste.
My ‘Get-Out’ moment was when it started getting slightly physical. But here I was, slapping the hell out of X-78. I couldn’t recognise myself and who I’d become. Toxic. The poison spread through my loved ones, school work and social life.
Honestly, it took me some time to leave. But once you do, it’s a relief. Like a lost sheep who wandered away from its flock only to be found later with a voluminous amount of wool that needs to be sheared.
Sheep don’t naturally shed their own skin. The long-awaited shearing was my getting out moment.
*The anonymous identities have purposefully been curated by the author