The Day My Marriage Fell Apart
The Secret I Couldn’t Tell
I have always known that I was different. While I found women attractive, I also had an undeniable desire for men. You could say I am bisexual, though I never truly accepted that part of myself. In a society where such things are met with disdain, I buried my truth, hoping it would never surface.
When I met my wife, I thought I had found my safe space. I believed that marriage would suppress the other part of me, the part that longed for something society deemed unacceptable. So, I never told her. I never told anyone. I built a life on a foundation of secrecy, convincing myself that as long as I played the role of a devoted husband, the past wouldn’t matter. But the truth has a way of catching up with you.
It all started when my wife logged into my Facebook account without my knowledge. I had invited someone over, a man, during a period when she was meant to be away. I thought I was careful. I thought no one would ever find out. But women have a way of uncovering the things we hide.
Unbeknownst to me, my wife had already pieced together the truth from my messages. Instead of confronting me immediately, she confided in my sister, who was just as shocked as she was. Together, they devised a plan to catch me red-handed.
The day my world crumbled, I had no idea what was coming. My partner had arrived, and we were in my room when I heard a knock at the door. It was my sister. She asked to come in under the pretense of retrieving something from my room. Suspecting nothing, I let her in.
The moment she stepped inside, she saw everything she needed to see. My secret, my carefully constructed life, lay shattered before her eyes. Before I could process what was happening, we walked back into the living room, and there she was — my wife, waiting.
I will never forget the look in her eyes. Pain. Betrayal. Disgust. Without a word, she turned and left.
I wanted to fix things. I pleaded, my sister pleaded, but my wife refused to hear me out. The betrayal was too deep. But she did not stop at walking away, she took the story with her. She went to her family, then to the elders of our community, and finally to the marriage tribunal. She did not just want to leave me; she wanted the world to know why.
Being exposed as a bisexual man in Nigeria is not just about a broken marriage — it’s about survival. The shame, the whispers, the judgment — it all became too much. I lost friends. I lost respect. I lost myself. The humiliation drove me into a downward spiral. I turned to drugs, to anything that could numb the pain. Depression consumed me. I thought about ending it all. What was left for me in a society that saw me as an abomination?
Time passed, though the wounds never truly healed. Then, one day, she came back. My wife, the woman who had destroyed me, stood before me and was asking for forgiveness. She wanted to come back, to try again.
But I was no longer the man she left. I had been broken beyond recognition, and no apology could undo what had been done. So, for the first time since it all began, I took control of my own story.
I told her no.
