How I shared my husband with a sex doll

How I shared my husband with a sex doll

Confessions: How I shared my husband with a sex doll



Technology, undoubtedly, is having an effect on every aspect of our daily lives. From work, to fitness, nutrition, and even sex – yes, sex – the options available on the internet are simply endless. Research has it that the popularity of pornography industry hit the roof when the internet came into full force.

The internet’s influence in our lives is so much so that sociologists now agree that, the world of sex and dating has been affected, whether positively or negatively, by its surge. But it has even taken things a little further.

In the past weeks, social media has been awash with one sex doll story or another. Some of the stories tell, in detail, how these dolls are made, their unique capabilities with one actually speculating the possibility of humans procreating with these robots.

As preposterous as it sounds, men in China – a country with millions of women - are known to be the largest users of these silicone models of women, as one article puts it, “to have and to hold. And to f**k.”

Personally, the idea that a human being would choose to be intimate with a doll…a doll, something made from plastic over a real flesh and blood beats my imagination. And on my timeline on Facebook, I’ll, in disgust, quickly skip any story that has ‘sex doll’ in it.

One of my colleagues, Edwin, asks the very question I’ve been unable to ask myself or any other person since this whole sex doll thing started.

“So the people who are buying sex robots, what is wrong with them,” he asks during one of our usual conversations in the office, and neither of us could provide a befitting answer.

Perhaps we are just a bunch of judgmental and overly ‘criffe’ journalists because an email I received days after this conversation in the office showed that until you are in a situation, you cannot speak ill of a person’s choices.

I still don’t think sex dolls are an option but this reader disagrees. In order not to be judgmental or infuse myself in this story, I have added below the email as received with a few edits so that it does not offend the sensibilities of anyone who read it.

Hello Naa,

I’m a mother, a professional at my job and still married to the man I will be telling you about in this email.

In the past weeks, my social media handles have been buzzing with news items about sex dolls. As usual, the high and mighty, all knowing, holier than the Pope Ghanaians have been busy with rants of condemnation. Anyone who says anything contrary to their view is seen as the devil.

My husband and I have been married for four years. We had our first and only child in the first year of the marriage and it was after her birth that things took an interesting turn in our relationship.

We dated for just six months before we got married. Both of us decided during the period that we would preserve ourselves until we were legally and spiritually joined together as husband and wife. Initially, I was surprised at his, willingness to go through a sexless relationship before marriage.

Most men won’t and in the very unlikely situation that the man should make such a suggestion, even the would-be wife will start suspecting the potency of the man. That is how sex has become a dominant phenomenon in relationship-married or unmarried. I have met – perhaps in my entire adult life – many men who will just not admit to a thing like that. Not even the Christocentric ones, who in the pastor’s presence can preach the word of God and pray better than prayer warriors.

So Eric’s “that’s okay, anything you want” response came as a complete surprise to me, but in the back of my mind, I thought, “maybe, he is one of the few good ones.”

Although we had an amazing relationship, we struggled with intimacy. Eric especially – understandably for the man he is – couldn’t just hold back, sometimes. I wasn’t exactly bothered by the lack of intimacy, in fact, I loved it. However, I got angry anytime Eric started his advances and many times, we argued, so bad that we ended up spending an entire week or sometimes even more not speaking to each other. But like any relationship, we dealt with it and moved on.

Five months into our relationship, we got married, very simple yet stunning ceremony. We were happy. The first night, we did all the things we stopped ourselves from doing in the five months that we dated. I’ve got to say those were indeed ‘delicious’ times, but let me not bore or rather excite you with the details.

After a year, we conceived and had our first child. The pregnancy was rather more challenging than I thought. From the very first trimester, I struggled to do things I saw other women do when they were pregnant. Many women in my company still came to work and went about their normal duties, but things were quite different with me. In the end, I had to spend the entire nine months confined to a room.

For someone who was always on the go, I felt the boredom was going to kill me. Naa, literally, I thought I was dead. But the birthing process wasn’t any different. A last minute, life-saving surgery was ordered by my doctor and to be very frank with you, I lost myself by the time everything was done.

Postpartum depression set in and for the first few months after delivery, I struggled to go back to my old self. Things got more complicated when at a point, I didn’t even feel like sharing a bed with my husband. I just didn’t want to be touched.

My husband didn’t understand what was going on. At the time, his mother who had taken her turn to help cater for the baby noticed the tension between us.

 “I spoke to your husband this morning because I noticed not all is well with the two of you. On the outside, you look like everything is okay, but I can see that there is a problem and he confirmed this to me in the morning when I spoke to him,” she said.

She continued, “he told me you have refused to do your ‘wifely duties’ and all attempts to make you see reason, seem to be falling on deaf ears.”

My daughter, childbirth is not an easy journey. I understand the struggles you’ve been through, but I’m not impressed with the behavior you’ve put up afterwards. See, I’m going to be very plain with you, your husband can only hold on for so long.

It is your duty to satisfy him sexually, if you fail to do that, he will look for it elsewhere and I’m not sure you want that to happen. Do you? And as she asked that, she took my hands in hers, looked straight into my eyes and waited for a response.

I had nothing to say. Truthfully, I didn’t know why and although I struggled to explain myself, she was patient and promised to speak with her son to do same.

And so eight months went to one year and my husband, at this time, had grown impatient. I understood him completely and felt terrible for treating him the way I did, but Naa I couldn’t help it. I just feel numb, and uninterested in anything sex.

Eventually, my husband spoke to a doctor friend of his who invited us over. After a few questions and answers, the doctor who was still unsure of whether or not his diagnosis was right said, “I think you may be suffering from hypoactive sexual desire disorder. But I am not certain so I’ll refer you to a doctor who has better knowledge in these things.”

My husband gasped and I looked around in shock because although I didn’t know what the doctor was talking about, his reaction made it look as if it was something serious.

But before I could say anything, the doctor said “no, hold on, there is nothing to worry about. I’m skeptical about that myself because you both have a child and the only way that can happen is if you’ve had sex. So this isn’t conclusive, but I said, I’d rather you speak to someone who is well versed in these areas.

“Take this number”, he took his pen and scribbled down some numbers of the sticky notepad on his desk and added, “you really shouldn’t worry, I’m sure when all this is done, both of you will be searching for extra air in your home soon, he said with a wink and a smile.

And with that, my husband and I left the hospital; him angry, me, worried and confused. He didn’t utter a word for the rest of the day.

A few weeks later – we were yet to cal the therapist – my husband woke me up at dawn one cool Saturday to tell me that maybe it was time for us to spend our lives ‘apart’.


“I love you, you know it. But this whole therapy thing…I cannot wait, I can’t. I’ve tried really hard, but I cannot wait for therapy. Look at me, for a whole two years, as a man, I haven’t touched the woman I am married to…

“Babe, please…,” I attempted to speak but I just couldn’t find the rest of the words to complete the sentence. But he provided the answers to my unasked questions.

“I am not leaving you, I won’t go anywhere. In fact, if you want me to go with you for the sessions, I will but I won’t be part of it. I’ll find a way to satisfy myself. You go for the therapy, when you’re ready, I’ll be here…,” he continued.

“Find a way to satisfy yourself? What does that mean,” I asked as tears started to roll down my cheeks.

As loving as he is, he walked to my side of the bed and gave me a hug.

“Don’t cry, please, you’re breaking my heart. Please stop.”

After a while, I gathered the little strength I had left and said “I am sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Well, after the crying and pampering episode, my husband explained to me what he meant by “find a way to satisfy myself.”

“I want to get a sex doll,” he said and I gaped in awe.

“Babe, wait, let me explain. I don’t want to have an affair with another woman and it will save us from any diseases and all the drama associated with it.”

I cringed.

“Sex doll,” I heard myself say in disgust and sheer disbelief that that thought actually crossed my husband’s mind. I know the situation then was dire and perhaps my husband was being made to pay the price for something that is and will never be his fault. But the thought of having him share the same bed – one in which I’m in – with a sex doll was a no, no for me.

I stormed out of the room with the excuse that our daughter needed tending to, but in reality, I felt cheated on and I didn’t want to be in the presence of a man who intends to replace me with a doll.

“It’s a machine, a robot for crying out loud. Why do you want to do this to me,” I blurted out at him a week after that very awkward meeting to inform me about his intentions.

“Are you ready to give me what I want, if the answer is no or anything related to that, then you should know that I am not changing my mind on this. How do you expect me to live this way? Why? Or you’d rather I went out with another woman? Is that what you want?

“I can’t continue to live like this, I can’t so while you’re busy getting disgusted at my only option, you might as well find something that works better than that,” the door slammed and that was the last time we had a conversation on a sex doll.

This strained our relationship a lot. The usual cheer and laughter in our home vanished and what used to be a loving home turned cold and often too chilly for even the winds at the North Pole. We hardly spoke; we no longer sat and ate together at the dining table and our regular favorite television programmes, series, and movies were watched apart in separate rooms.

My nights were spent alone and in tears because my husband moved to the guest room and made it a point to avoid my presence. Fortunately, we both ensured our daughter was not affected by the distance that had been created in our marriage. The regular things we did with her, like taking turns to bathe and play with her on daily basis didn’t quite suffer a hitch.

So, after weeks of silent treatment, I gave up. I could no longer stand living like a stranger to the man who was supposed to be my joy. Wanting to make up for my reaction toward the whole sex doll idea – which a part of me still sees as an abomination – I called my husband and ‘surrendered’.

“But on one condition, that we will continue to share separate rooms when you get it and until such a time that I’m able to come around, your exploits with it will be known to you alone. I don’t want to set eyes on it and I certainly don’t want it anywhere near our daughter,” I said with my ‘boss voice’ – one that meant you dared not go against this rule.

“Of course, I understand that,” was his response and that ended the conversation.

About three months after, a huge delivery arrived at the post office for us. I got a call from one of the officials who said she’d tried to get in touch with my husband with no success. According to her, my husband had provided my contact details as an alternative in case they couldn’t reach him.

“Please tell him the huge parcel is in and he could pass by our offices and pick it up. Alternatively, we could deliver directly to your home at a small fee, if you don’t mind,” the soft spoken and very professional lady – Eunice, as she gave her name – said.

The “huge parcel” bit baffled me so to be sure that the whole world wasn’t in on my little secret; I asked her if she knew what the box contained.

“No madam we are not allowed to look into parcels. Once they are scanned and x-rayed at the port, we are sure it doesn’t contain anything harmful so we don’t bother to open or look. Plus, there is no inscription whatsoever to tell what exactly it is. The box only says ‘handle with care. Delicate cargo’.”

And that was true.

We opted for the ‘huge parcel’ to be delivered and as Eunice said, we were made to pay, well…something small for it.

The arrival of the sex doll made me feel as if my marriage had ended. “So now, I will be sharing my husband with a robot?” I thought to myself as I lay on my matrimonial bed alone days after the delivery.

To confess, I was jealous, extremely jealous even more than I thought I would be. Somehow I underestimated the impact and change the doll will make to our relationship and the thought that my husband was busily satisfying himself with an inanimate thing like a doll mortified me to the core.

On some nights, I will sneak out of my room and eavesdrop on what is going on behind the guest room door. Many times, I left in tears because I’d always hear the moans, groans and the eventual release of pleasure from behind the door and it ripped my heart into shreds.

We or let me say I, never got in touch with the therapist and with no one to talk to about how I felt and what was going on in my home, I spent most of my time immersed in my work or taking care of our daughter who had just turned three.

However, as usual, I’ll eavesdrop on my husband as frequently as I could- I don’t know why I did that because, really, it left me heartbroken and in tears all night. Sometimes I’m unable to shake it off in the morning and this affects my work output but I simply couldn’t lay in another room and pretend nothing was going on.

When I’d had enough, one day, while my husband was busying himself with his…things…I barged into the room.

“Jeez! What are you doing here,” he stormed off the bed and grabbed a duvet to cover his nakedness. As if I was a stranger.

Naa, I burst into tears and sank to the floor. He hurriedly put his pajamas on, scooped me from the floor and carried me to our bedroom. We spent that night and subsequent ones together as husband and wife. The guest room hosted its guest - the sex doll – until one day my husband repacked it into the box it came in. we still don’t know what to do with it but as far as I know, I have my husband back.

He didn’t jump at making love to me immediately though, he tried what worked every day until one day, my body gave in and for once in a long time, I felt what I should have as a woman. That night was more memorable that even our first night together as man and wife.

When I look back now, I smile but I’m even more thankful for a man like my husband. His decision might be wrong but deep inside me, now, I am glad he took that bold and very unconventional step. I have my husband back and our lives are back to what it should have been.

As I speak, I am a little over three months pregnant with our second child and very cynically, I think the sex doll brought back the magic.