"He's my friend. We went to school together. Baby, calm down."

But you did not calm down, instead, you flung my phone across the bed and shook your head.

"He's just a friend but he's calling you this late. Do you think I'm a fool?"

Instead of telling you 8pm was not too late for a call and that you were not just a fool but a very big one at that, I told Bello to stop calling till my boyfriend was fine with our friendship. Bello was mad at me because we'd been friends for over ten years. He wasn't the first friend I'd pushed away because you felt insecure, but he understood what I needed and walked away. It was only a year since I said yes to being your girlfriend, but in that short time, I lost friendships spanning over a decade.

The day I confirmed that your head was really not correct was when I squealed in delight over a judgement that sentenced a sex offender and murderer to death. You squeezed your face and said something about how capital punishment should not be a thing. I remember sitting and listening to you ask questions about the victim's outfit and why she was where she was when she got attacked. At that point, I wished your mother swallowed you or better still, drank dry gin heavily in her first trimester. Funny how I still didn't leave.

Then you proposed. You put your mother's ring inside semo and served it to me. You must have thought you were being romantic until I choked and with tears in my eyes and a ring restricting my airway, I cursed you. Finally, I coughed it out and you went on your knees and stretched the saliva coated ring towards me. You didn't apologize or look remorseful. In fact, you looked amused. So, I shoved you and your mother's fake ring away and left.

As much as I hated your actions, I still forgave you when you came crawling. You promised to buy a better ring, do something nice and 'unsemoish'. I still couldn't eat semo without fear of choking, but I took you back and we continued. I believed in happy ever afters and you were mine.

The day you made that post, my first thought was that I'd lost, but as I looked at you; your hands around her slim waist, her eyes focused on yours and your smile a little too bright, I knew for sure I'd won. I waited for the tears to come, for my heart to break, but all I felt was relief.

If only your head was correct, we'd have had our happy ever after and you would not be sending desperate "I wish I married you instead" texts to me by 1am.

To be honest with you and myself, I am happy your head is still not correct.