I wear this fake wedding ring for the married woman I’m dating

We met on Facebook. In a Facebook group for married couples. Not everyone in the group is married but most of them are. Like every group on Facebook, there are people who take things seriously and there are me and my kind who take everything lying down.

I’m not married but I’m the first to give marital advice when married people post their anonymous stories. Sometimes I dig deep and give the best form of advice. Sometimes, it’s life as usual. I talk trashy things and make fun of serious issues. One afternoon, after commenting on a thread, I received a message from a lady. Adelaide. She asked me, “Are you married?” I said, “I’m not married. I don’t even have a girlfriend.” She responded, “That’s why.”

I asked her why she was asking me that and for three days, she didn’t respond. The next time when she came back into my inbox, she said, “Stop making fun of people’s problems. It’s not nice. The fact that you’re not going through it yourself doesn’t mean you should demean other people’s stories and experiences. Be a human being who is compassionate.”

I asked placidly, “Please, what did I do wrong this time?” She pointed to every comment I’d made and sent screenshots of all the damn things I’d said under people’s comment. She said, “It’s not fine to live like that.”

There was something in the way he crafted her messages. It felt real. It felt like someone who had been hurt by something I said. I apologized to her and promised not to do that again. She said, “I’ll be monitoring you.” So for a very long time, I didn’t post or comment in the group. One day, Adelaide came back into my inbox; “I didn’t tell you to stop talking in the group ooo.

I was only drawing your attention to what you were doing that was not right. Please come back.” That day the conversation between us was very light and less tensed. We sent a lot of laughing emojis across and I promised her to be back.

From then on, anytime I made a post in the group or comment on something, she would come and comment under it. We laughed together under comments and tagged each other in posts.

We exchanged contacts and soon our friendship moved from online to offline. One day we met. The very first thing I noticed was her sparkling wedding ring. A very thick tall lady in her early thirties. I told her, “You’re more beautiful than I see in pictures.” She responded,

“Every picture I’d posted on Facebook is old photos.” We sat, ate, drunk and she paid for everything. Before we said our goodbyes she said, “You’re nice in person than the image you portray on Facebook. I hope we meet again soon.” Soon we met again. And again and again and then we started diving into our personal lives.

She is married to a successful businessman who is twenty years older than her. She said she didn’t want to marry him due to the age difference but he was kind and successful so she considered his kindness towards her family and herself and married him. He was sweet and gentle at first till their marriage got old. They’ve been married for six years.

The man started showing his true colors. He doesn’t have time for her anymore and treats her like she doesn’t even exist. The reason she agreed to meet was that she wanted to start living for herself. Make friends before she dies out of loneliness.

I told her my story too. “Actually, I’m a nobody at thirty-two years.” She laughed and said, “Don’t say that. Everyone is somebody.” Our conversations started getting flirty and before we knew it, we were ending our conversations with, “I love you.” And “I love you too.”

The other night, we met in the house where she lives with her husband and that was where our first sex happened. I wondered how she was going to live in that house with the memory of our escapade that happened right on the sofa she told me was her husband’s favorite sitting place.

All through the day, I was scanning her face to see regrets or some sort but all I saw was contentment and a subtle smile that flickered every now and then. She said, “It’s an empty house occupied by two co-tenants. He doesn’t even look at me anymore. Ask me the last time I had steamy sex like this and I can’t trace that day.” I asked her, “Have you ever thought of divorce?” She answered, “Yeah, I thought of divorce when you touched me a moment ago.”

We became lovers who met in different places under the different shades of darkness to consume each other. No matter how many times we did it, we still wanted more of each other. So we met often. We met often to carry out the desires we expressed to each other the night before. 

One afternoon, she told me, “Get yourself a wedding ring to wear. When you’re seen as married too people won’t cast suspicious glances our way.” I bought a cheap wedding ring by the roadside that got rusted every week.  I had to buy a new one each week until one afternoon Adelaide gave me a solid gold wedding ring. She said, “This looks more credible.” I said, “I wouldn’t have to change it every week.” We both laughed.

We walked together, hand in hand, wearing our rings boldly as though we recently got married. One Saturday afternoon, she called to tell me her husband was out with his mistress so I could also come over. 

I was inside the house with her when we heard the approach of a vehicle. She pulled the curtain and looked outside. She said, “My husband is coming.” I screamed out of fear, “Your husband?” She said, “Relax, there’s nothing to fear. Act normal. I believe he’s just passing through.” The husband came in. The first time I was seeing him that close. I got up and greeted him. He gleefully returned my greetings, went inside and the next minute he was on his way out. Not even a single word to his wife. When he was gone, Adelaide said, “You see why I love you so much? At least you see me. You have time for me and you call me by name. I can tell you for a fact that my husband had forgotten my name.” We both laughed at something that was supposed to be serious.

I realized Adelaide had gotten over her marriage and didn’t care about anything again. Maybe she was looking for a way to escape the marriage. Six years and no children but the man didn’t care. He went on with his life as though their marriage was nothing to take seriously.

We’ve been together for almost a year now. I still wear my ring, to the dismay of friends and family. I make jokes about it and tell them it’s my way of driving the wrong kind of girls away. They don’t know about my affair with Adelaide so they understand.

Telling you I’m dating a married woman isn’t the confession. The real confession here is that I wear the ring, hoping someday Adelaide would get a divorce so we get married. I haven’t told her about this dream. I won’t push her but if someday she gets the strength to walk out of that hell of a marriage, I would be here, waiting for her with open arms.