By OREVA GODWIN
Before anyone sharpens their knives, let me be clear: I do not support cheating. I have never romanticized infidelity, nor do I excuse men who lack discipline. As my Delta brothers love to joke, “Men don’t cheat; only women cheat.” That entitlement alone is why feminism and I struggle to coexist peacefully with Delta men.
There’s also a popular belief that a woman who becomes a side chick will one day “pay for it” when she marries, that karma will hand her a cheating husband. This belief is lazy, misogynistic, and conveniently ignores reality.
If karma truly works that way, then why are so many “good women,” religious, faithful, devoted, married women attached to men who cheat effortlessly? Why are women constantly paying for sins they never committed?
The truth is simple: African men are not naturally polygamous. They are enabled. Enabled by culture. Enabled by religion. Enabled by women who fight each other instead of confronting male entitlement.
We treat men like trophies, prizes to be won and defended, so they grow up believing they are scarce resources meant to be shared.
They say men cannot eat one kind of food, forgetting that women too have appetites, desires, and boredom. The only difference is that society cages women’s wants while excusing men’s excesses.
But here is the uncomfortable truth most wives are not ready to hear: Some marriages are still standing because a side chick refused to stay.
Many men remain married not because of loyalty, but because the women they cheat with decline commitment. Some side chicks enjoy the benefits without the burden. Others simply don’t want the man beyond convenience. They know the men they are with are only good for money, but will be horrible husbands. They sometimes feel sorry for their wives. Some men, desperate to escape their marriages, are the ones chasing permanence with the side chick.
Yet wives often turn their rage outward. They call. They threaten. They insult. They degrade. And in doing so, they sometimes provoke the very outcome they fear.
Some women have lost their marriages not because another woman wanted their home, but because their threats challenged someone who decided to prove a point.
Adaku was a young lady who relocated from the East to Abuja. She had an eye for the big life and was willing to do anything to get to the top. She secured a job at the National Assembly and felt she had landed in a den of opportunities.
A young, beautiful, light-skinned lady, very visible to the eye, men started coming her way. Adaku met Amina, her senior colleague but of the same age, and they quickly became best friends. Amina saw herself in Adaku.
Bit by bit, Amina introduced Adaku to the movers and shakers of Abuja. She told her about the men who camouflaged as wealthy, the ones who were wealthy but very stingy, and the ones who were real ballers. Amina made it easy for Adaku.
One day, Adaku and Amina were invited to attend a VIP party. An invitation was given as a password, a party for the elites. Security was tight; all phones were collected at the entrance. The password guaranteed entry.
Adaku was stunned when she arrived at the party. For the first time, she felt intimidated. Never in her life had she imagined being in the presence of the leaders of the nation, celebrities, philanthropists, and scholars. It was so unreal. She even told Amina to pinch her so she would know it was real.
As the party went on, a man caught her attention. He looked like he was in his early 50s, old money. She quickly tapped Amina, asking about the man, and Amina told her he was very influential. If he looked her way, she better grab him. Adaku swore to be taken.
She stood up and headed to the convenience just to be noticed, and immediately he noticed her. Amina noticed and danced with joy internally. When Adaku left the restroom and walked back to her friend, a young man approached her, beckoning her to follow him to the VIP table, saying his boss would like a word with her.
Adaku told the young man she couldn’t go alone without her friend, and he obliged. They left for the VIP table, and Adaku became overwhelmed. This was the table of billionaires and top political leaders. The man introduced himself as Otumba Oil Money, introduced his friends, and Adaku and Amina introduced themselves.
There were drinks, drugs, food; everything imaginable was available. Adaku was impressed. The wealthy knew how to party: no loud music, just all the fun one could dream of. They talked about trips, women, and business, and the ladies’ eyes lit up.
Otumba called it a night and offered to drop Adaku and Amina, but Amina was mobile. Otumba took Adaku’s number.
The next day, Otumba contacted Adaku, and they gradually got acquainted. Otumba thought over all the naughty things she told him. He saw his fantasies coming true. He invited Adaku over, and she wore a sexually provocative outfit. Otumba saw stars when he beheld her. She was hot. Adaku was ready to show him that he had not met a real woman in bed.
Shocking to Adaku, Otumba was not as naïve as she thought. He brought out all the sex tools, mouth gag ball, sex handcuffs, sex whip, vibrator, and a sexy red lingerie. Adaku was astonished. He dimmed the lights and was ready for action.
Adaku wore the sexy red lingerie, and Otumba’s eyes lit up. The beast in him awakened. She sat on his lap; he handcuffed her, turned her with her belly on his lap and her ass in the air. He spanked her ass and used the sex whip on her. She moaned, which aroused Otumba.
He placed her on the table with her legs spread, brought out the mouth gag ball, and gagged her. He then brought out the vibrator and placed it on her clitoris. Adaku moaned, but the sounds were inaudible. She started vibrating; saliva came out of her mouth due to the gag ball. She was on another planet, the pleasure was ecstasy.
He stopped when he noticed she was about to climax. This frustrated Adaku. He looked her in the eye, commanding and seductive. He scanned her body, saw the saliva dripping, and gave a devilish smile. He told Alexa to play “The Take” by Tory Lanez featuring Chris Brown, and the song started playing. He looked back at Adaku; she was still panting. He took the vibrator, and the teasing began. She vibrated, pleading with her eyes for release. Seeing her desperation, he granted it.
He carried her like a groom carrying his bride, took her to the bed, and scanned her body. It was pleasing to the eye. He took off her panties and put a finger inside her. She was so wet for him. He spread her legs, brought out his manhood, used it to caress her private, and pushed into her opening. He truly took her through seven positions as sung by Chris Brown. Then he climaxed. He took off the handcuffs and left for the restroom.
Adaku was too tired to clean up. She stretched her hands, took a sex wipe, and cleaned herself while Otumba was in the restroom freshening up. She lay helpless on the bed. When he returned and saw her state, he removed the gag, went back to the bathroom, soaked a towel in water with a bit of liquid soap, cleaned the saliva from her mouth, cuddled her, and told her how sweet she was.
Soon, darkness covered her, the kind that followed satisfaction. Otumba was happy he finally met his perfect sexual match.
The next morning, she woke up to an empty bed. On the table, she saw a bundle of one thousand dollars. She checked her phone and saw a message from Otumba telling her to use the money for her cab and toiletries. He said he had an emergency and had to leave, but he would see her soon. She smiled.
She got home, prepared for work, and got to the office where she shared the latest gist with Amina. They called themselves “gold diggers,” ready to dig deeper.
The relationship deepened and blossomed for six months. Otumba was captivated. Not just by her body, but by her mind. She listened. She contributed. She challenged him. She made him feel alive in ways his marriage never could. She made his fantasies come true. She was everything he needed for a partner.
He asked her to marry him. He said he didn’t mind divorcing his wife for her. Adaku refused, saying it was too early, but in truth, she came for the money, not marriage.
Otumba’s wife soon found out. She found her on Instagram and sent a voicenote, called her a rag and said her husband would never degrade himself to marry a slut. She also threatened to drag Adaku on blogs. She said when Otumba was done with Adaku, he would dump her like the rest.
This infuriated Adaku. She called Otumba and said she was ready to be his wife. She accepted just to prove a point to his wife. Otumba divorced his wife and married Adaku. It felt like a dream to Otumba’s ex-wife, who went to the tabloids claiming that Adaku had jazzed her husband.
Adaku’s story is one of ambition, exposure, and misplaced power. She did not set out to destroy a marriage. She wanted access, money, influence, comfort. Marriage was never her goal until insult turned into motivation, and humiliation into resolve.
But I dare say the real villain was not Adaku.
It was a man with power, money, and no control over himself. Failing to fight off an external woman while pretending that all was well at home resulted in self-sabotage.
A woman cannot steal a husband who does not want to be taken. So before you pick up your phone to send threats, ask yourself: Are you fighting the intruder, or avoiding the truth about the man you married?
Because some side chicks are not home wreckers. Some are simply mirrors which reflect what was already broken.
