On the first night of our honeymoon, we heard a knock on our door. I and my husband were in the middle of serious business and didn’t want to stop just to answer the door. The person knocked again. Again and again. Each time, the knock got louder than before. My husband stopped for a while, looked into my eyes, and asked, “Who could be knocking at the door this time of the night?” I joked, “We are both lying here together, how could I have an answer to this question?” One thing was very clear, we were both not ready to stop having our second round just to answer to whoever was knocking. My husband was stuck inside, waiting to hear the knock again, and decide to go and see whoever was knocking.
We had traveled a long way to that hotel to celebrate our honeymoon. The friend who recommended the hotel to us said, “They have all the facilities to keep you entertained no matter how long you decide to stay there. Their customer service is also topnotch and they serve you what you need even before you ask for it.” So that night when the knock came, we thought it was room service—the kind of customer service our friend spoke to us about. So both of us were reluctant to go answer the door.
That wasn’t only the reason why we were hesitant. When I met my husband and agreed to date him, we both signed an agreement—when I say signed, I mean we wrote it on paper and both of us signed to it that we were never going to have sex until we get married. In case any of us try to force his/her way, the other party has two ways to handle the situation; one, stay away from the other for a whole month while trying to find out the reason for such behavior. Two, when it happens the second time, the other partner is free to walk out of the relationship without any further closure.
It was funny the day we made that agreement and it was even funnier when we had to sign it and both of us keep copies of the agreement. So for three years, we didn’t kiss, touch each other in a way that would lead to sexual arousal, or have sex. We were both not virgins too. My husband had known a lot of girls and I had known a fair share of guys too. We decided not to have sex so we can reserve the best for last. It wasn’t easy. My husband broke the rule several times. I stayed away for weeks each time he broke the rule. The only thing was I didn’t walk away. He was too dear to me to walk away just because he made an attempt. I only had to stay stronger, to keep our promise going and ensure that we get to the finish line without sex.
The night before our wedding day, all we could talk about was how we were going to do it for the first time. We talked of styles, we spoke of how many rounds and even planned on all the places in the room that we were going to do it. The day finally came. I held the hands of my father and he walked me to the altar. The wedding ceremony itself didn’t last more than two hours. It looks as though the pastor knew we couldn’t wait to do the do. We didn’t have a grand reception. Just after the wedding ceremony, the champagne was shared with those present, the cake was cut, we raise our paper cups and had a toast, that was it. We took some pictures and just about an hour and a half later, I and my wife were in a car traveling to that hotel to begin our one-week honeymoon.
We checked in at around 7pm, went straight to the bathroom to shower and that was when the first round happened. It was nothing like I’ve never seen before. Maybe it was because I hadn’t done it for so long or it was because of the anticipation. In that small bathroom, both of us wiggled and turned, knocking down everything that was hanging. It didn’t last longer than I anticipated but the joy it brought us and the fulfillment we had was all we needed to wait for the second round.
Now, here we are, locked in each other’s embrace and enjoying what we had starved ourselves for so long. Then the knock came. It was around 12am. My husband got up, wrap a towel around his waist, and walked leisurely to the door. He asked, “Who’s there?” The voice responded, “Please I need help. I need urgent help, please help me.” It was a lady. There was fear in her voice and that got my husband scared. I got up from bed, put on a dress, and joined my husband. You could hear the lady was shivering; “My boyfriend is dying. I need a hand to help me carry him to the hospital.” My husband came back inside, picked a shirt and shorts to wear. He ran to the door, opened it, and there she stood, almost in tears. Just around the same time, the door to our left also opened. A gentleman came out asking the same question, “What’s the problem?”
We rushed into the room only to find a very huge man lying on the floor, wearing only his boxers. The other gentleman went in first while we followed. One thing caught my attention, the man on the floor was wearing a wedding ring but the girlfriend wasn’t wearing one. I got the drift. Looking at the size of the man, the four of us couldn’t carry him and descend four floors to the car. We needed more men. The receptionist on duty was also a lady so she couldn’t help. The security man joined, three men and three ladies put our effort together and carried him to his car. The lady didn’t know how to drive, so my husband sat in front of the car with the security and the girlfriend and drove the man to the hospital.
I kept calling my husband after some time, enquiring what was happening; He said, “They’ve taken him in. Looking at the way the nurses and the doctor are rushing around, it looks serious.” I didn’t hear from them again until almost morning when my husband came back. He looked exhausted from the lack of sleep and cut a sad figure. He told me; “The man couldn’t make it ooo. They said he was dead on arrival.” We both didn’t know the existence of this man until the knock came in but his dead messed up everything for us. The fact that we were both witnesses to a stranger’s death hit the wrong notes in our quest for honeymoon happiness.
I asked him, “How about the girl, how’s she taking it?” “She met the man barely a month ago,” my husband answered. “She doesn’t know anything about him—family, where he stays, where he works, nothing. The only thing they can do now is to wait until someone calls.” Not too long afterward, we heard hasty footsteps and also heard the next door opening. We went outside to see who it was. It was the lady. She went inside and a few minutes later, she came out with her bag and other stuff in her hands. She told us, “I’m going back to the hospital to wait until a family member comes.” We knew better. She was simply running away.
Before the clock struck 8am, we heard a knock on our door. My husband answered it. It was the hotel authorities. They asked us what happened and we told them our version. They told us, “Whoever comes around asking about what happened, whether in uniform or not, refer them to the hotel administration.” We nodded our heads and they left. We couldn’t do anything, even food, we struggled to eat. That same evening my husband suggested we cut short the honeymoon and go home.
It was supposed to be a week’s stay but we couldn’t walk around with the weight of what happened on our shoulders. We packed bag and baggage and left the hotel. Our honeymoon was destroyed by strangers who didn’t know how we had suffered to get to where we were. To date, I still have memories of that unfinished second round and how I thought it was the one that was going to get me pregnant. Silly events.
