Before anybody reading this would judge me for being a fool, kindly allow me tell you all a bit about myself:
I am 67 years of age and until six months ago, I was a bubbly woman full of health and looking forward to living up to 90 years. Before my diagnosis came in and I found out I had just a few months to live.
I was born into a large, polygamous home where bickering, jealousy, hatred and maliciousness was the order of the day. My mother was a trader and she imbibed in me the art of buying and selling coupled with a high sense of negotiation to get the best deals possible in any business dealings I entered into.
So from when I became 16, I had already mastered how to make money and had more money than even those older than me can only imagine.
THE ONLY AREA OF MY LIFE I DIDN’T SEEM TO HAVE ANY FORM OF JOY WITH OR FROM WAS MY LOVE LIFE.
There was a point in my life when I felt that probably God didn’t want me to have money and enjoy love too.
Why do I say so?
Well, how many women would you find in this world who would lose their v’rg!nit!y at age 16 through double r@p3 by two of their uncles who were in their forties?
How many women would fall in love with the man of their dreams and find out three months into the relationship that he was only with them because he had a bet with her best friend to sleep with her and collect money from her so they could share? I was 19 at this time.
How many women can say that they have experienced being passed around amongst friends, 7 in total, without her knowledge they were friends and had talked about her and shared her innermost secrets amongst themselves? I was 26.
I fell in love with Wunmi when I was 32. In fact, I met him when I had gone to an eatery to have some fun alone on my birthday since I had no man in my life then. He had waltzed his way into my life and heart and mesmerized me into finally letting down my guard.
