WHEN PASSION GROWS COLD
“What do you mean we can’t have sex tonight?” My husband, Ikenga asked. His eyes were shooting re and brimstone.
“You are my wife and I will sleep with you when and how I want!!!” He shouted, yanking at my clothes as though he was possessed with a demon. I sat in the corner of the bed, closing my legs as much as I could and using my hands to fight him off. I was no match for Ikenga’s brute strength.
He swatted my slender hands out of the way, pulled me closer to himself and proceeded to remove my clothes. I fought back, but again, it was futile. He pinned my hands down over my head with one arm and used the other hand to remove my skirt. He tossed it aside and quickly undressed himself expertly with one hand.
I closed my eyes and stopped fighting. Moments later, he was moaning pleasurably, his body vibrated with insane pleasure and mine with disgust.
“You can’t deny your husband sex, Ifeoma,” he said midway through making love to me forcefully. When he was through, he lay beside me, breathing like a lion that had just completed a mad dash chasing after a zebra across the plains of Yankari Games Reserve. In fact, while he was pounding away on top of me, you would have thought he was a lion assuaging his burning sexual desires in Yankari Games Reserve. “How can you deny me sex, Ifeoma?” he asked. “You have been acting strange of late.
For days now, you would not let me touch you in bed. Is someone else giving it to you?” he asked scathingly. I said nothing, facing the wall with my back to him.
“You should answer me!! Are you running around with all these little boys on our street when I am off to work?” Balls of tears trudged languidly down my face. “You should answer me!” He ordered, taking hold of my slender body and flipping me around.
“Who are you doing it with? Ifeoma, who are you having sex with?” he demanded. “Did you really enjoy having sex with me by force?” I asked barely audibly.
“You asked for it. Maybe you like it rough. You are changing, what is the matter with you?”
“Really? I am changing, what about you?”
“Of course I have not. I am completely devoted to you! I work hard all day to put food on the table. I slave away to make sure that you and our children have a roof over your head. I do not sleep around. Why would you deny me sex when I ask for it? After working like a donkey to take care of you and the children!” “Indeed, you work very hard to provide for us, Ikenga and for that, I am grateful. But, you have changed in other ways, my husband.” “What other ways? Do you want me to kill myself before you realize that I am doing my best?” “You used to adore me, Ikenga,” I said. I saw a look of surprise in his eyes. “I still do,” he answered. I could tell that he was nonplussed. He had no clue what I was driving at.
“For weeks on end, I have been trying to show you that you treat me differently,” I shot at him, sensing that I had his attention for once in a long time. “Me? Treat you differently?” “Yes.” “How?” “You come back from work, eat voraciously while mopping at the television. Then, you take your shower and head off to bed, ready to pounce on me like a lion. Once you have gotten what you want, you turn the other way and sleep off, snoring like a pig!”
“Watch your language, woman,” he warned. “I did not mean to be rude, but quite frankly, that is how I feel.” “What more do you want from me?” “Do you still love me, Ikenga?” “Of course I do.” “Do you still adore me?” “Of course I do, woman. Why do you think I work very hard to provide for you?” “I know you take pride in your efforts to provide for us, but when I met you…when we were dating, you took great pleasure in taking time to adore me even though you worked just as hard ” adore me, even though you worked just as hard.
I paused to peer into his face, aided by illumination for the dim table light beside the bed. “You bought me flowers. You noticed when I had a new dress on, or when I wore new underwear for the first time. You took time from work to call or text me. You called me Ify, my love, sweetheart, or honey. You took me out and made me laugh. You searched my face and my heart as though you had laid up treasures in there.
Today, you simply gape at the television and when you are in bed, you want to turn me like a piece of cloth, have sex with me as though I were some sex toy and then head off to bed. “Do you bother to find out how my day went? Yes, you work hard at work, and at home, I work tirelessly to keep the home and to look after both of our children. Sometimes they wear me out and I want you to come home, put your arms around me and tell me, honey, you did a good job today, sweetheart. Where is the love, Ikenga? I want to be loved again, made to feel special, like you used to. I don’t want to be a sexual object that you will pick off the shelf when you want and then walk away when I no longer satisfy your sexual urge. I used to want to have sex with you all day. I used to look forward to you coming home and making love to me all night. I used to imagine all sorts of things sexually. I did so then because you turned me on. You took the time to know me, love me, adore me, care for me and show me that I was precious to you.
Now, I am Ifeoma or woman! “Do you really think all that puts me in the mood to have sex? You want me to feel ready for you when you need sex, but you fail to make me feel special, ready to melt into your strong, loving arms like you used to. I need the old Ikenga back. I love you with all my heart, and for the records, I am not sleeping with anybody else. I am dying…waiting to be loved again by you. Wake up my passion for you, Ikenga. It is asleep. Rev it up like an engine, ready to run all night to satisfy you. Make me feel loved again, wanted and cherished. I am your wife and there is nothing I want more than to make you happy, but with the way you have been treating me, I feel less of your wife and more of a toy…an object. Wake up my sexual passion for you again; it has grown cold.” Ikenga said nothing. I could tell he was thinking. He lowered his face, unable to look me in the eye.
It finally dawned on him that he had been paying far too little attention to his wife. I had tried for weeks on end to get him to notice that he had changed. Finally, I managed to bare my heart to him. “Please, could you turn off the light, honey?” I asked. He reached out and turned off the table light. I turned away from him and sobbed myself quietly to sleep. By morning, Ikenga fixed breakfast for me and the kids – Fried eggs, bread and tea. “Please lie back and rest,” he said to me as I tried to get out of bed in the morning.” “I have work to do. I need to x you breakfast,” I protested. “It is okay, just rest my dear,” he said calmly. Your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” he added.
He used to bring me breakfast in bed every now and again when we dated. I had not had that treat in years. Soon, he and the kids huddled around the bed with a tray in his hands. “Mommy, we have prepared breakfast for you,” our son, Chiemerie shouted. “We are going to eat in bed with you, mom,” added Ijeoma, our daughter. We all ate in bed and every now and again, Ikenga fed me a piece of bread with egg sandwiched in-between. Thank you God, I thought to myself. When Ikenga returned from work that evening, he did not turn on the television. We all ate together and laughed. He insisted on putting the children to bed after bathing them.
Then, he had his own bath and ran the bath for me to have mine. “I could bathe you if you don’t mind,” he teased as I entered the bathroom. “Why don’t you do that, my love,” I replied with a happy, childish smile on my face. He did not think I’d say yes to his offer. A look of surprise jumped onto his face. I took his hand and pulled him into the bathroom. He ran hot water over my back and massaged me gently. Then, he soaped my body and soon, I was moaning pleasurably in his arms with hot water splashing against our bodies. “I did not mean to be rude last night,” I said, somewhat apologetically. “No, you were not. On the contrary, you were right. I had forgotten who I used to be.
The stress of work and pressures of family life took over. I am very sorry for treating you like that. You deserve better. Please forgive me, and if you ever see me take that route again, please remind me that I am heading the wrong way,” Ikenga said to me, reassuringly. “I will, my love. If you don’t mind, I’d love to make love again,” I replied. Ikenga bent over and kissed me gently. Then, he began to massage me again and soon, we were moaning pleasurably again. “I am glad to have my husband back,” I said after we were back in the bedroom. “Thanks for helping me find my way back. He had a bouquet of flowers; red roses, my favorite delivered to me at home by mid afternoon…just like he used to.
A few days later, we were out on a date while a friend watched the children for us. Needless to say that I am happier than ever before. We have managed to breathe life back into our marriage and inject incredible passion back into our sex life. Now, I count the hours most days, waiting eagerly for Ikenga to return home from work and take me in his arms. It is amazing how little gestures can influence a woman’s mood and sexual behavior. I want no gold or silver, no diamond or platinum; I just want to know that I am loved, adored, wanted, viewed as relevant and cared for by my man. He certainly does now.
Sometimes, men need to be taught, prodded and reminded. If your man strays, please do not hesitate to gently remind him…Do not expect him to just figure you out. Talk to him, sometimes, they can’t feel what women feel nor see life our way. I tried and waited for Ikenga to figure me out and it did not work. Do not throw things and call names – that does not work either. Do not throw tantrums, men hate it like an infectious disease. Coax him, talk to him; let him know what is missing in the relationship. Do it gently, do it kindly, do it with love and respect. I did not get right in my case at first, but in the end, I did and Ikenga got it too. Remember, you and he are on the same team…on the same boat, so you want to make sure your boat does not sink – after all, you’d sink with it if it did. Teach him, show him and encourage him…you will be better for it!!
Narrated by Imelda Asomugha (real name withheld) and edited by Victor Chinoo.
THE END
