My boyfriend travelled abroad last year. He didn't have the money so it became a shared responsibility between me and him. He loved me and he let it show. For the two years we dated before the opportunity came, everything was nice and lovely. We didn't fight. We didn't argue. He had his weaknesses and I had mine but these weaknesses didn't weaken our love in any way.
After sweeping his account clean, he needed GHC50,000 more to be able to travel. His family couldn't do much so I swept my account clean and gave it to him. I gave him GHC30,000. The remaining amount became a headache but we proved too strong to make it weigh us down. I secured a loan from work and gave it to him. Finally, he was able to travel.
He promised to send back the money before the year expired. The money wasn't my problem because I knew he would pay. My problem was his security and the security of our love.
I heard from him when he landed. We talked night and day. He said he missed me. Well, I was missing him too. The first month was blissful. But after a month, he started fading into the background. He texted less, called less and cared less. By the fifth month, there was nothing to hold on to apart from complaints and accusations, all of them came from me.
His carelessness frustrated me. Anytime I complained he gave me excuses until even the excuses stopped coming. I can show you our chat. The last hundred or so messages I sent to him were never answered. I started pleading with him to send my money. He didn't talk about it or send anything until life caught up with me.
My rent was due, I couldn't afford to pay. The landlord got frustrated and asked me to leave the house. No one would lend me anything because I already owed the people who were able to give me something. They didn't want to see my face again. Out of frustration, I went to see his parents and narrated my ordeal to them. His father asked, "Did you tell me when you were giving him the money? You women are all the same. He's abroad so you want to reap where you didn't sow.”
I'm thirty-one years old but recently had to move back home to live with my parents. I share a room with my three siblings. They look up to me but I can't look back at them. Mom is sick but I can't help her. What I earn after loan deductions doesn't do anything. I feel like a failure. Homeless. Loveless. Hopeless. All because I helped a man who said he loved me.
Whenever I pray, I pray for him. I don't curse him because I still need my money. I pray for him to be successful. Again, I pray God touches his heart so he calls me one day and pays what he owes me. I'm no longer waiting for his love. Obviously, that's nonexistent. All I want is for him to look back and pay what he owes me. It sounds simple but it looks like I'm hoping for far too much.
Life. Love. I have to take my two Ls and move on.