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“Love is for losers,” I told myself


The first was Richmond. His reason was that he didn’t deserve a good girl like me so he had to leave for a better man to find me. I told him I didn’t need a better man. I told him he was all I needed and he was enough to make my world go round. He didn’t listen. He left me. A few days later, he proposed to one of my friends who said no to him.

The second was Prince. He was a guitarist and sang beautiful songs to me when our love was new. When he stopped singing to me, I should have known he had started singing to someone new but my stupid heart didn’t get the clue until one day, he stood in church and said I do to another woman.

The third was Elvis. I told him the stories of my broken past with men and he looked into my eyes and said, “I’m not like the other guys. There’s no way I’m going to hurt you like that.” Yes, he was not like the other guys. He was the son of our pastor and I believed the spirit of God was within him and directed his footsteps. He was a mini devil who went around sleeping with the ladies in the church. I still wanted him the way he was but one day he left me for another woman he ‘mistakenly’ impregnated.

Each one of these breakups broke me into pieces. I cried for some days, did not eat, lost some weight and started hating on myself. But I found out later that I’m the only thing I have, and if something is the only thing you have, no matter how many times people break it into pieces, you still pick it up and fix it. So I fixed myself. But there was a catch—I fixed myself so tight nothing else could bother me.


“Love is for losers,” I told myself.

I stopped loving or better still, I decided to love like men do. They love you today and tomorrow they don’t. They don’t break down and cry when love is over? The next day, they’re in love again!

Not loving again pushed me to discover something else about myself; Sex! I loved sex and I desired it in any form—rough, smooth, fast, slow or head down and legs up. I knew it was there from the beginning but I didn’t pay much attention to it because I was a woman. A woman doesn’t take sex. She’s given. So no matter how much I loved sex, I had to pretend I don’t until someone gives it and that someone should be a husband or a boyfriend.

When I fixed me, all that changed; I didn’t need a boyfriend to have sex. Just like men do, they only need a girl, a place and some solitude and they are good to go.

My boss was the first. He was always giving me the indications that he wanted me, I didn’t pay him much attention. One midday, he called me into his office. I saw his wandering eyes and I got the message. So after he had told me what he wanted me to do I asked him; “Are you expecting anyone in the next ten or twenty minutes?” He said no. I told him, “There’s a girl. There’s a place. There’s some solitude, you know what I mean?”


Just a touch on his ear and he was all over me. He acted like a hungry lion with some piece of meat in front of him. I was the meat and he was ready to devour every bit of me. He pushed his hand in my skirt and he was bewildered; “You are not wearing anything?” I responded, “I’m wearing a skirt.” He kept going down and kept playing with whatever his fingers could touch. I said twenty minutes but just under ten minutes, we were done.

When I was leaving his office, he was slouched in his chair panting as if he had run a marathon for his country. I thought he was going to die but he survived. The next day, he called me again into his office. “I don’t expect anyone for the next ten or twenty minutes.” I told him, “What happened yesterday isn’t going to happen again. I was in a good mood but no more.”

A friend invited me to her church and introduced me to her pastor. The next day, the pastor was calling my number. We met a number of times and it became obvious that his interest in me was beyond divine and my salvation. He asked for a chance in my life. After a counseling session one afternoon, I went into his counseling room. He was very clear that no one was coming. He said, “People knock on this door before I ask them to enter so you have nothing to fear.”

Just when we were about to go into it, someone knocked. A gentleman. He came to give him a message. After he had gone, the pastor got up, kneeled in front of me in a way that made it easier for him to touch, play with my body and lead me on. He started from my breast, obviously. Then there was another knock on the door. One of the ladies in the church. She had a message for him. Someone wanted to book an appointment with the pastor. He told the lady of the church to tell that someone to give him fifteen minutes. Just when we were about trying the third time, there was another knock. God wasn’t going to allow us to have our way. I walked away and never looked back.

Sex became the game for me. I didn’t need to be attached to anyone to have it. I only needed to call someone when I needed it and where I needed it. I didn’t need to give in to someone twice. I do it with you today and it’s over tomorrow. That’s when I realized what men truly want—they want what they can’t have. All the men I ditched after sex came back calling. They begged, they cried, they offered to give whatever I wanted. Some were even willing to lay on the floor for me to walk over them but I stood firm. Every man had one shot.


Power is one great tool every woman should have. I don’t know how you would decide to have it but every woman once in her life must experience what it means to be powerful—the power to decide and be the one who calls off the shot. I decided on who to give my body to and none of them could have me twice. All of them wanted me twice and were ready to do anything. My boss got me promoted, increased my salary and threw a lot of favors in my way. I didn’t give in.

Then I met old George. He was almost twice my age and already broken when I met him. His wife of twenty-two years had been sick and was bedridden. He told me, “She got paralyzed when we had our first child. Three months later, we lost the child and her situation got worse. I’m all she has now.” Old George needed a companion so I decided to provide him that. I kept going back to him and sometimes helped him to take care of his wife. I gave him sex often but he proved he needed my presence more than sex. He saw me as a human first before sex.


He recently called to tell me he had lost his wife. I mourned with him but couldn’t be with him. Good old George. I miss him some times.

Paa and I got introduced at a friend’s wedding. We had a lengthy chat because that was all we could do when we were the only people seated around a table meant for four people. He took my number and called me in the evening, just like all guys do after getting my number but Paa was sly.

He brought me some gifts the first time he came to visit but refused to come inside. He disappeared for about a month and when he reappeared, he paid a surprise visit bearing gifts. Again he didn’t enter. I called in the evening to thank him for the gift but he didn’t pick my call. He called three days later to apologize for missing my call due to some crazy excuse no child would even accept as a better excuse.


He wouldn’t show me his house and he wouldn’t pick my calls. He only appeared and disappeared at will. That got me interested in him. I wanted to know more about him so I started pursuing him. He was always busy and wanted to do things on his own terms. Finally, I nailed him down one afternoon in his own room. It was hot and breathtaking as though both of us had been starved of sex for a long time.

I got home and waited for his call. Usually, guys would call or text after sex and tell you how much they enjoyed it and how much they couldn’t wait to have more. Paa never called or texted. Even when I sent him hello on Whatsapp, he came to read and didn’t respond. A week later, he called to apologize and gave stupid excuses.


He was annoying but that part of him drew me closer to him. We had our second sex, the third sex and then we had something that looked like the fourth or fifth sex and then I lost count and then we kept going and going and every day was different. Love is for losers but at this point, I had to accept that I was a loser so I could love again.

After a year or so together, he said, “Why don’t we do something with our lives? We can get married and make this whole thing meaningful. I asked him, “Are you feeling guilty that you are having me for free?” He answered, “Far from that but when something is good, you work to own it.”

All my life, I’ve had no one called me good. Those who came close to calling me good didn’t use the word ‘good.’ They called me sexy, beautiful. They praised my curves and called my breast soft only when it was in their hands. They saw me as pieces of flesh; breast, ass, curves, beautiful face and a vagina that opens up for them to enter. They never put me together and called me a woman. But Paa did. He cracked the code and I was happy to be with someone who thought I was good enough to live with.


On our wedding day, when the pastor asked him to lift the veil, I asked myself, “What if he didn’t like what he finds under the veil?” I didn’t ask myself that question in vain. There was a secret I was carrying behind the veil. He didn’t know it and I was scared it had changed who I used to be. I didn’t hesitate to say I do. He didn’t waste time either. The kiss was very perky but short. We went in and signed our marriage certificate. He had my hand in his all the while.

When we finally sat down I asked him, “Be honest, how do I look?” He answered, “You look amazing.”

“Are you sure?”

“You doubt me?”


We were up and the pastor was praying. The whole congregation was on their feet and whispering prayers to God. I looked at my husband, his eyes were shut and he was also praying. I moved a little bit closer to him and whispered into his ears, “I’m pregnant.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. I repeated, “I’m pregnant.” He whispered back. “I know.”

“How did you know?”


“I saw the used test kit where you hid it.”

I got an inch closer to him and stepped on the toe of his shoes with the tip of my heels. It hurt but he couldn’t scream. We went back praying. 

—Abena, Ghana

READ: She stole my Married man

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