He was complaining about how I was spending my money and he kept on bickering like a woman. He cited things that happened in the past: like when I bought two heels of the same colour because I liked them, and the time I fixed Brazilian hair. Things we had both agreed to get over. He was being a sissy and I told him so, after all, the truth has to be told.
Then he asked me to keep my mouth shut and I think that must have made me say nastier things: like reminding him that he was only jealous because I make more money than him, and couldn’t stand the fact that I bought things without having to beg him. He asked me to keep my mouth shut again. I called him a miserly Ijebu man who does not know how to take care of a woman.
Maybe I shoved him a bit in the process, but that’s not the point. What matters is that he pushed me. I tripped and broke the heel of my stiletto. Thank God I did not sustain any other injury. Men are not supposed to be violent. They say if he beats you once he will do it again, so I left him and told him not to look for me. And he didn’t.
I think he is proud. I should have told him that too. After three years of sticking with his sorry self, of hoping the day would come that he would propose, he couldn’t even come back to plead. Such arrogance…
Now I miss him, but there’s no way I’ll apologize to him. Women like me don’t do things like that.