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  • Love Life: I Know He Has a Wife and Kids in Nigeria

    Love Life: I Know He Has a Wife and Kids in Nigeria

    Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Teju: We met at work when I just got to the states in September 2019. We’re both nurses in a state hospital. She and one other Nigerian guy were the only Africans at the time. She’d been here for close to two years before me. So she took me under her wing, helping me to navigate and survive in the new environment. 

    Malin: I liked him immediately I met him because I have a thing for Nigerian men. But we started off platonic. I’d been happily married since I was 23.

    We started working closely together for long hours, so we got to talking and oversharing stuff about our lives. From day one, we both knew the other was married. I’d say loneliness brought us together.

    How did you both find yourselves in the US without your partners?

    Malin: We planned to relocate together very early on in our relationship before we got married. But I got my master’s visa, and he didn’t. They’ve consistently denied him one, so he’s still in Dar es Salaam. Now, he’s working on Canada. Once that works out, we’ll figure out how to unite… if we still want to.

    Teju: I didn’t come in the most straightforward way, so I couldn’t bring my family — my wife and two kids. I’m supposed to put things in place then send for them. But it’s becoming much more expensive to plan that. And I’m no longer in a hurry.

    Why not?

    Teju: This will get me in trouble. 

    I’m just comfortable with the way things are now. I love being with Malin. Things had gotten dry between me and my wife when I left Nigeria. I won’t lie that we were about to break up, but we weren’t the most passionate couple. 

    Malin: For me, the fact that he hasn’t been able to get his visa approved for so long is a red flag. I’m tired of waiting and hanging on to that hope. 

    Do they know you guys are together?

    Malin: No. Why would I want to start that kind of drama?

    Teju: I’ve considered telling my wife, but I think it would be cruel. I know she wouldn’t understand. It’ll just break her.

    Let’s go back a bit. How did you get into this relationship?

    Teju: We went from working closely together to her helping me get a better place to stay, figure out the subway and commute. In that first month, we were always together — at work, on the road, at home. She also helped me figure out my meals. In between all that, love happened.

    Malin: Like I said, I was lonely. And it helped that he wasn’t a creep. I met a decent, likeable Nigerian guy when I was at my lowest point, and it felt good helping him out. I knew staying so long in his space and being so accessible would lead to something else, but I couldn’t stop myself.

    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

    What happened next?

    Teju: COVID came, and being essential workers, we worked even longer hours, wearing PPEs and moving around when everyone else was stuck indoors. That was the highpoint of our friendship. Just constantly exhausted while making jokes with our other coworkers. We slept most nights in the hospital. 

    October 2020, the lease was up on my apartment, and we somehow started talking about being housemates so we could pool money together and get a decent two-bed.

    Malin: We ended up getting a three-bed with a third girl I knew from my former building. That’s when we technically moved in together. It’s also when we started sleeping together. He ended up spending most nights in my room.

    Were your spouses aware you had housemates of the opposite gender?

    Teju: My wife found out.

    I was originally supposed to live with my aunt when I moved here. Malin convinced me I could get a cheap flat closer to our workplace, and I was so excited to not have to squat with a relative at my age.

    My aunt eventually came to visit when I’d moved into the new apartment. She met Malin but didn’t say anything. Next thing I knew, my wife brought it up on one of our video calls. My aunt had called to tell her. She wasn’t happy at all, but I assured her not to worry about it.

    Malin: My husband knew we were housemates then. He didn’t think too deep into it. Maybe because there was another girl with us. But he doesn’t know we have a small house on mortgage, and we’ve moved in together. 

    When did that happen?

    Malin: In July 2021, and we’ve lived there together since. Our relationship levelled up after that. We started talking plans and finances because we wanted to move our life forward. 

    Teju: We’d spent too long in one place, struggling to reunite with our partners. We were ready to move on, at least in our careers and personal development. We took courses so we could get promotions and so on.

    Malin: The bulk of his money goes to his kids’ education in Nigeria. I’m happy he does it, but it’s also a constant reminder of his external responsibilities and what that means for our future.

    Have you discussed the future yet?

    Teju: Not much. 

    But some months after we moved in, one of our coworkers suggested that we declare a common-law marriage so we could get some benefits. So we did. 

    Malin: To all our friends and colleagues and the state of Texas, we’re married.

    And your actual spouses don’t suspect a thing?

    Teju: They don’t. I talk to my wife once a week and still send her money. We’re also still saving up for them to join me here. We decided the best way is for me to get a PR then invite them over.

    Now that Malin and I did the common-law thing, it might not work. She doesn’t know that. We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.

    Malin: I don’t think my husband suspects. He’s still hyper-focused on Canada. That’s all we talk about now. He’s working towards relocating in 2025. Fingers crossed for him. 

    We try not to talk too much about our marriage because I think we’re both trying not to trigger sadness and regret.

    So what happens when they finally make it out of Africa?

    Malin: I don’t know yet. 

    I love Teju, but I’ve confided in him that I might still have feelings for my husband. He was the love of my life before the whole unfortunate split. And Teju has his kids to figure out.

    Teju: I don’t see it happening anytime soon. I see Malin and I staying together until then. We’re a good team, and I can’t imagine figuring out life in this country with anyone else.

    How have you managed to build a working relationship on the back of infidelity?

    Teju: Ahh. We don’t think about it that way. We just did our best with the circumstances life gave us.

    Malin: Our relationship works because we don’t focus on guilt and regret. It’s about being each other’s support system in this lonely world. 

    We work together as well, so it’s been much easier to have someone to do everything with.

    [ad]

    You guys give “work spouse” a whole new meaning 

    Malin: Yes. I suppose you could call us work spouses that took the name seriously.

    I don’t feel like I’m cheating actually. My husband and I can’t be together, and I’m supposed to just put my life on hold?

    Teju: The only thing I feel bad about is I know my family would’ve been here much faster if I didn’t get together with Malin. There are some things we could’ve done by now if I was a lot more excited for them to be here.

    Malin: Yeah, it’s tough because if his kids were here, we wouldn’t have to spend so much on school bills.

    Do you see yourself continuing to send money home for as long as they’re there?

    Teju: Yes. One thing I’ll never do is default on my responsibilities as a father. My dad was an absent father, so I feel bad enough that I’m putting my kids through that.

    Malin: That’s the only thing that brings friction to our relationship. His kids might be the only people he loves more than me.

    And how do you feel about that, Malin?

    Malin: Sometimes, it feels like baggage I didn’t bargain for. But I know it’s insensitive to say that given the circumstances.

    Teju: Yeah, there’s no way around that.

    Have you ever thought about having your own kids?

    Malin: I’m not sure I want to with him yet. 

    Teju: We decided we’d wait till we figured out where we stand with the people back home first. But it’s not completely off the books. At least, not for me.

    Malin: It’ll be a huge step. I don’t want to bring a baby into too much drama. We could get discovered at any moment. It’s both exciting and terrifying.

    Discovered by your spouses?

    Malin: Yes.

    Have you had any major fights yet?

    Teju: Not really.

    Malin: We argue a lot about very many things. But it’s always chill. I don’t think we’ve ever been genuinely angry with each other.

    Teju: We’re almost always at work anyway. So between that, sex and sleep, not much time to fight.

    Sweet. How would you rate your Love Life on a scale of 1 to 10?

    Malin: 9. We just get each other, and the way we support each other‘s rights and wrongs without judgement is so precious. The uncertainty makes things exciting too, but I know we’re not in la la land and shit can hit the fan at any moment.

    Teju: I guess I’ll say 9 too. I love being with her. I love that I’m doing life in the states with her. She’s helped me achieve way more than I ever imagined.

    The 1 will probably be for the fact that she still loves her husband and I still love my kids.

    Check back every Thursday by 9 AM for new Love Life stories here. The stories will also be a part of the Ships newsletter, so sign up here.

    ANOTHER ONE: Love Life: He Thinks Condoms Are for Laying With Harlots

  • Love Life: He Thinks Condoms Are for Laying With Harlots

    Love Life: He Thinks Condoms Are for Laying With Harlots

    Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Aliyu: We met through family in 1988. Our fathers knew each other, and one day her father came to visit mine with her in tow. They stayed for about an hour, and we were introduced. She was shy and barely said a word. She just sat in a corner, and I remember me and my brothers watching her from the corridor to our rooms and talking about how beautiful she was. 

    Mariam: I was so self-conscious to be in a strange house with nothing to do but watch my father talk with his friend. I wasn’t supposed to accompany him there; he’d just decided to stop by on our way to getting the things I needed for school. 

    After that, we met more often during family and religious gatherings, and we just got close.

    When did you start to like each other?

    Mariam: After he kissed me in my father’s compound when no one was looking. It was the day after Ileya in 1989. I’d only ever been kissed once before, and it was nothing like his own.

    Aliyu: My brothers and cousins had discovered I liked her sometime before that. They saw that I’d sometimes stare at her. So at this gathering, they teased me into kissing her and telling her how I felt. I didn’t tell her how I felt. I just kissed her and disappeared. 

    What happened after?

    Aliyu: We went back to our lives. 

    She was still in school, and I was trying to get into the family trade of poultry farming. Not much happened until the next year when she was back from ABU for a long break and we met at the water factory her brother worked at. We talked a bit, and after she left, I told her brother I wanted to marry her. Imagine me with no money saying something like that.

    Mariam: My brother came back home and told me about it. I just laughed. I crushed on him since the day he kissed me without regard for my father’s house. But I didn’t want to believe he liked me back. I returned to school and thought about him for weeks, imagining us married.

    Why was marriage the first thing that came to mind and not dating?

    Aliyu: Maybe it was the times, but that’s what I wanted when I saw her. I wanted her to be my wife. So I worked hard while she was in school. I did everything to make more money. I started buying and selling goats and rams. I did deliveries briefly. I saved most of the money I made.

    Mariam: In school, I had a few other suitors, but I chose to wait for the possibility of being with Aliyu. I used it as a catalyst to focus on my studies. 

    He waited till 1992, my last year in school to go to my father and ask him about me.

    And then, you got married?

    Aliyu: No, we courted for another year. I wanted her to finish first. I didn’t want to rush or scare her.

    Mariam: During this period, he’d send me money and gifts all the time. 

    A lot of my friends were getting married while in school, but I appreciated the wait. The truth is I was scared of the responsibility of marriage. Learning from my friends’ experiences helped me feel prepared after graduation.

    What was the wedding like?

    Mariam: It was big. Our parents invited every single person they knew. We had three different ceremonies, and by the end of it all, I was exhausted. In fact, whenever I think back to my wedding, I associate it with tiredness.

    Aliyu: We didn’t get the time to bond before and during the ceremonies. Then after, we consummated and moved in together. The excitement wasn’t really there anymore.

    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

    What d’you mean?

    Aliyu: I’m not sure what I thought would happen, but I wasn’t prepared for how dull living with one person was. Everyone just avoided us because they didn’t want to intrude on our brand new marriage. 

    But we just continued on with life. She got a job, I ran my businesses, and we performed our duties.

    Mariam: I think we were fine until the kids started coming. 

    I had our three children in the space of four years and that was really hard for me. Once the third one was out, I got on family planning, and he didn’t like that.

    Aliyu: I understood why she had to, but she didn’t consult me first. What if I wanted one more child? I also didn’t like how it affected our sex. It became like a chore trying to get her in bed.

    How did you navigate this period in your marriage?

    Mariam: Taking care of the children mostly on my own was hard. I had to quit my job after I had the first one, but I was still always tired. Even with my mother and younger sister’s help. 

    Our communication was zero at this time, but he always provided, so I was content. 

    Aliyu: In my mind, I was giving her space and time to focus on motherhood while I focused on making us comfortable. Running the businesses was no piece of cake.

    Fair

    Mariam: Once the children were all old enough to go to school, we were never able to build our relationship. We were fully adults with adult worries and responsibilities. There was no time for gisting and jokes like I saw my friends do with their husbands. 

    I’m not sure how everything went so wrong.

    Aliyu: I found out she was sleeping with someone else.

    Sorry, what?

    Mariam: After I’d just had our third baby, I got close to one of my old friends from ABU, one of the “suitors”. He was still unmarried. So we met a lot when Aliyu was away at work and I wanted to get out of the house and the chaos of crying babies. We never had sex, but we got intimate sometimes. 

    Aliyu: I was also sleeping with my secretary at the time. But it didn’t stop me from being angry. Instead of telling her I found out, I just held it in and resented her.

    Did it eventually come out?

    Aliyu: Yes, when I saw her with another man different from the first one.

    We moved to Abuja from Kaduna in 2004, and I spent less time at home because I had to travel more. I had a new girlfriend, and most times, I’d take her on these trips with me. I was considering making her a second wife.

    One day, I saw Mariam leaving our house with this man when I’d just returned from a trip.

    Mariam: A trip with his “girlfriend” I’m sure, but he had time to judge me.

    Aliyu: Later that day, I confronted her about it and she just apologised. I couldn’t say anything again.

    You just let it go?

    Aliyu: Yes. I didn’t want stress, and I didn’t want to chase her out of my house. So what was the point of pushing it? I also thought it’d make her more agreeable to my bringing in a new wife.

    Mariam: Him not getting angry made me realise he didn’t care what I did. He didn’t care about me. He just wanted someone respectable to bear him children. And since I’d given him two sons and dared to do family planning, he was done with me.

    Aliyu: That’s not true. She was cold and that surprised me after we got married. I could never really get her to ease up and have fun with me.

    [ad]

    So what happened after this second bout of infidelity?

    Mariam: This is when I feel we separated without separating. We just started leading different lives even though we still lived under the same roof — and slept in the same bed for nearly ten more years.

    Aliyu: I continued travelling constantly and we hardly talked. In 2007, I married a second wife, we had a son, and things were peaceful. But in 2012, the second wife left me for another man.

    Mariam: When he went to marry someone half his age. Guess who had to take care of an additional child for him.

    You?

    Mariam: Yes. The woman left her son. I recently heard she’s relocated overseas with her new husband and their children.

    Aliyu: I’d never have let her take my son to another man.

    After this, I just decided I wouldn’t take another wife. 

    But did the affairs continue on both sides?

    Mariam: Yes. I’m not proud to say it, but I’ve found other men I’ve felt more committed to than my husband. I considered remarrying once. In the end, I didn’t want all the drama and stigma. And I didn’t trust that the new man wouldn’t disappoint me. I also had three growing children to think about.

    Aliyu: I didn’t date anyone for years after my second wife left. It felt irresponsible of me to do so. Every woman I was with after, I only had sex with.

    Do you think your children feel any type of way about you living separate lives?

    Mariam: Probably when they were younger, but they’re now all grown with families of their own. 

    My daughter often calls me to try to force a reconnection between us because she’s feeling righteous. But I tell her off. She thinks it’s my fault the marriage isn’t “working well” because I never treated her father with respect. Imagine.

    Aliyu: There were times you could’ve been more humble.

    I think the children understand how hard life and marriage is now, so they’re fine. 

    Do you think you’ll ever divorce?

    Aliyu: No, I don’t believe in that. Even the prophet said that of all things permitted, divorce is the most hated by God. 

    Even though you’re both committing adultery?

    Aliyu: I believe marriage is for life. And I still love my wife. She’ll always be my first love. I do everything I can to treat her right. She’s also given me three beautiful children.

    Mariam: If I didn’t do it when I was maybe in my 30s, I don’t think I’d ever divorce because there’s no guarantee that what’s outside is better than what’s here. Aliyu is my partner in many ways, even though God did not permit that sex and companionship be one of them. 

    Today, we’re friends and we’re each other’s confidants.

    Right. What was your first major fight about?

    Aliyu: When she suddenly wanted to start using condoms during sex.

    Mariam: He never agreed to use them. That’s why I had to get the implants in secret. When I later told him, he was angry but placated that at least he didn’t have to put on a condom.

    Aliyu: Condoms are for laying with harlots.

    On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

    Aliyu: 5

    Mariam: 5. Average.

    Check back every Thursday by 9 AM for new Love Life stories here. The stories will also be a part of the Ships newsletter, so sign up here.

    NEXT UP: Love Life: Nigeria Should Let Us Marry in Peace

  • AI Breaks Down How to Stay in a Marriage With a Cheating Partner

    AI Breaks Down How to Stay in a Marriage With a Cheating Partner

    We asked AI to share a full guide, and it’s response? “Sure, here’s a humorous take on staying in a marriage with a cheating partner in Nigeria.”

    Master the art of selective hearing

    When your friends start whispering about your partner’s escapades, develop the skill to only hear compliments. “Did you hear he was with that girl?” magically transforms into, “Did you hear he bought you a new car?”

    Enroll in advanced detective training

    Become Nigeria’s next Sherlock Holmes. Follow clues, check phone messages, and decode cryptic texts. You’ll be so good that even the local police will ask for your help in solving cases.

    Perfect your poker face

    No matter what bombshell news comes your way, keep a straight face. Channel your inner Nollywood actor. Your reaction should be so composed that it makes news anchors look like they’re overacting.

    Join the “don’t ask, don’t tell” club

    Adopt the policy of blissful ignorance. If you don’t ask about their whereabouts, they won’t tell you lies. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

    Become an Instagram detective

    Who needs private investigators when you have social media? Check tagged photos, comments, and new followers. Be the Sherlock Holmes of Instagram stories.

    Develop an appreciation for bad excuses

    When they come home late smelling of unfamiliar perfume and mumble something about a “late-night office meeting,” smile and say, “Of course, dear. Those office meetings must be really aromatic.”

    Keep a diary of creative excuses

    Document every outlandish excuse they come up with. One day, you’ll publish a bestseller: “The Encyclopedia of Spousal Excuses.” It’ll be a hit, especially in the humor section.

    Turn to Nollywood for inspiration

    Watch Nollywood movies for strategies. See how the characters deal with cheating partners. Dramatic confrontations, fainting spells, and breaking plates are all valid options.

    Create an imaginary friend

    When things get tough, talk to your imaginary friend about your troubles. They’re always there to listen, never cheat, and have excellent advice like, “Have another slice of cake.”

    Keep a stash of comfort food

    Always have your favorite comfort foods on hand. There’s no problem that pounded yam and egusi soup can’t solve, even if it’s just for a little while.

    Plan elaborate fake business trips

    Whenever you need a break, plan a fake business trip. Post pictures from random locations, and enjoy your “me time.” Bonus points if you can get your partner to believe you’re actually on a work trip.

    Join a support group

    Find like-minded people who understand your plight. Meet regularly to share stories, tips, and a good laugh about the absurdities of life with a cheating partner.

    Embrace the power of prayer

    Attend church services and pray fervently. If nothing changes, at least you’ll have a direct line to divine wisdom. Maybe your prayers will even inspire a miraculous transformation in your partner.

    Learn the art of subliminal messaging

    Subtly leave books like “Faithfulness for Dummies” around the house. Play songs with lyrics about loyalty. Perhaps some of it will seep in through osmosis.

    Develop a sense of humor

    At the end of the day, laughter is the best medicine. Laugh at the absurdity, the drama, and the ridiculousness of it all. After all, if you can’t laugh, what can you do?

    ChatGpt’s Disclaimer: This listicle is meant for humor and entertainment purposes only. Cheating in a marriage is a serious issue, and it’s important to seek professional advice and support when dealing with such situations.

    Hope you enjoyed this tongue-in-cheek guide!

    YOU’LL LOVE THIS: Arise, O Nigerian Hope: What Chatgpt Thinks Our Anthem Should Be

  • My Mum’s Death Led Me to Find True Love

    My Mum’s Death Led Me to Find True Love

    For Pride Month, I was looking to speak with queer people who have found solace, community and enriching relationships when I found Jason*.

    He shares how he found love in the village on a trip to bury his mother and how distance dashed the hopes of his budding love story.

    My Mum’s Death Led Me to Find True Love

    As Told To Adeyinka

    It’s hard to find love when you’re vulnerable, broken, and grieving. During this time, people want to take advantage of you. But this wasn’t the case with my partner.

    I met my Femi* during one of the darkest periods of my life. I’d had several depressive episodes, but this felt different; it was triggered by grief. I’d just lost my mum and travelled from Lagos to our village for the funeral arrangements.

    Burying my mum was hard on me. It took me a while to come to terms with her demise and come out of my state of mourning.

    Initially, the plan was to attend the funeral, which would last a few days, and then return to base. But because of the scale of the preparations, I ended up spending about three weeks in the village.

    During one of those days in the village, I needed an escape from the grief that had overcome me, making me numb to what was going on around me. I was on social media to mindlessly scroll my sorrows away and landed on a dating app. The idea of interacting with a stranger seemed like a good distraction. A few minutes after I logged in, an account viewed my profile and texted me, and I responded. 

    As with most interactions I’d had on the platform, the chat dragged. This wasn’t surprising because a lot of people came on the platform for different reasons. People came seeking sex, companionship, relationships or the thrill of meeting new people. I was there seeking an escape from the grief I was feeling, so a part of me was largely indifferent.

    Shortly after we started talking, he broached a topic that piqued my interest, and that was how we hit it off. We talked about different things until the interaction fizzled out.

    After that first encounter, I fell back into my shell; I was still deep in grief and wasn’t keen on making new friends. Even though it felt refreshing to have random, interesting conversations with a stranger,  it was all I had strength for.

    But in a way, that first encounter with him also stayed with me. I’d not felt that free and unburdened to live life since my mum died. For starters, he wasn’t a reminder of what I was going through, unlike the relatives around me. Soon, I found myself coming online more frequently to text him. We’d also moved the conversation from the platform since we exchanged phone numbers. Our interactions were a rich mix of shared interests and life in general.

    We texted for hours between days, and soon enough, I was hooked. I was deeply fascinated by this person who had the range to converse in a way that pulled me out of grief. It wasn’t like I didn’t have other people around who’d tried to talk me out of my sadness, but they just didn’t hit the mark like he did.

    Fast-forward to a few weeks after we met, I started getting a weird vibe from him. It felt like he was giving me an attitude, and I wasn’t sure why. The truth is, I’d been inconsistent at some point. Grief is weird. There were days I came alive and days nothing interested me, not even the charm of this person who, on many occasions, had successfully yanked me from the claws of grief.

    But was this the reason why he was giving me the cold shoulder? Was it because we hadn’t defined what we were doing? A friendship, relationship, or just two horny guys? It wasn’t clear. Whatever it was, his attitude wasn’t what I needed, so I also stepped back and withdrew. I stopped texting as frequently and didn’t bother to reach out.

    I’d expected him to return the same energy and keep his distance. However, instead of withdrawing, he became more present.  He reached out as often as he could.

    Soon, we decided to meet in person.

    During the early stages of our interaction, we’d both mentioned our love for taking long walks. So, we decided to walk the first time we met. We both agreed it would give us the opportunity to know each other even better without the pressure of sexual expectations.

    Unfortunately, I was held up on the day and couldn’t make the agreed-upon time. I didn’t show up until 8 p.m., and even though I expected him to be mad, he kept his cool. By that time, it was pointless to take a walk, so we decided to hang out at his house since I was already in the area. When I arrived, he was outside to receive me and even offered to pay my cab fare.

    [ad]

    When we got to his room, I realised he didn’t have chairs, so we had to stay on the bed — which wasn’t the ideal situation considering we wanted to avoid sexual tension.

    We spent the whole night talking just like we used to while texting, and the conversation was just as good. While all this was happening, I expected him to make a move. Yes, we didn’t want to smash on our first date, but I was already in his house and on his bed. I thought we might as well get down to business.

    Surprisingly, he didn’t make any sexual advances toward me. He kept it casual and even got me contemplating that he wasn’t attracted to me. With other people I’d met in the past, they’d try to make a move and only stopped when I refused. With him, we carried on as usual until I left his house. That whole experience made me see the potential of what we had brewing in a different light. It felt like we were laying the foundation for what could be a true and genuine relationship.

    After the first visit, I visited his place thrice and spent the night once. We still didn’t get intimate; I especially needed cerebral conversations, laughter, and companionship at that point in my life. He was attentive when I went on and on about my mum and always knew the right things to say when I was near breaking point.

    I remember crying one night while reminiscing about my mum, and he simply pulled me closer, rocking me into a peaceful calmness.

    I’ve met quite a handful of queer men, and sex is always on the table for most. Deep connections or genuine friendships are simply add-ons that aren’t guaranteed. It was refreshing to find someone different. He only offered solace as I struggled to reclaim the shattered pieces of myself from the grip of loss.

    About five weeks later, it was finally time to return to Lagos. I paid him a visit to say my goodbyes, and I still remember how his eyes swelled with tears as he muttered, “I love you.”

    I honestly felt the same way about him. On the day I left the village, I was as heartbroken as the day I arrived to bury my mum. I’d found love but knew it was one I couldn’t keep because we were almost a thousand miles apart.

    We both value the physical quality of time spent together, so a long-distance relationship was out of the question. We still text like lovers even though our relationship remains undefined.

    Read also: Why Dating Femme Queer Women Is Not for the Weak

  • Love Life: Nigeria Should Let Us Marry in Peace

    Love Life: Nigeria Should Let Us Marry in Peace

    Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Ene: We met through a women-only LGBTQ+ support group exactly ten years ago. I’d just joined the community through an invitation from someone I met at work, and they hosted a book club meeting about a month after. I love to read so I happily attended. 

    I sat beside Nduka; her big smile and nice scent caught my attention. We became fast friends.

    Nduka: I remember we discussed “The Goldfinch” by Donna Tartt, and she made a joke about how hard it was to get copies of new foreign books. She’d read a pirated ebook online, and it turned out more than half of us in that room had done the same. We exchanged numbers and email addresses because I wanted to send her some other books I liked. 

    When did you realise you liked each other?

    Ene: The group organised hangouts at least once a month, and we’d always chat each other up to check if the other person was attending. She lived not too far away from me at the time, so we started attending together. I don’t usually like going to places where I don’t know anyone, so I’d have stopped going to those things if not for her. 

    By the third time we did that, we’d formed a bond outside my usual friend group. She became the only person I could talk to about anything remotely queer; all my friends leaned toward homophobia.

    Nduka: I’d been part of the community for about a year then, and had made many friends. But with her, I drifted apart from the other girls. Something about her being new to the whole lifestyle made her really attractive to me, so I did all I could to support her without being pushy. 

    I knew I liked her the first day we went for a games night together in the same cab. I wanted to kiss her many times, but I held back. 

    What was the turning point from all that holding back?

    Nduka: Months after we met, she asked me if we could be friends outside just meeting because of the community.

    Ene: I liked her a lot, but we only ever talked or hung out when there was a community activity. I wanted more than that. She said, “Of course,” but between work and the fact that I was paranoid about being outside together, we still only hung out with the community for months. 

    Nduka: Then one Sunday, I just called and asked if I could come to her house. She still lived with her parents, so her “yes” was hesitant. I came anyway, and we stayed in her room the whole day talking and reading. 

    Our relationship shifted to something beyond friendship that day. We kept looking at each other and our conversation was strongly flirtatious.

    Ene: I was so shy and was constantly blushing.

    Walk me through how you started dating

    Nduka: After that day, we started having these long phone calls. But we also missed several community hangouts.

    Ene: I think we were scared to be together in public. I was probably the scared one.

    Nduka: No, I just knew I’d try to kiss or constantly hug you. And I don’t think you were ready for that.

    Ene: The founders kept calling me to make sure I was fine. I wanted to tell them I think I’ve fallen in love with another member, and I don’t know how to act.

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    I feel you, girl

    Ene: Thank you.

    Nduka: Anyway, during those phone calls, I’d sneak in that all I wanted was for her to be my girlfriend. And she’d find a way to sidetrack. It was so frustrating.

    Ene: I didn’t want to read too much meaning into anything. And I’d also never dated a girl. I really didn’t know how to act.

    Nduka: One day, I landed in her house once more. It was a Saturday, and it was just her mum who was home and in the living room. I kissed her, we made out for a bit, and I looked her in the eyes and said, “Please, be my girlfriend.” She shook her head but still said yes. That’s how I knew I was in for a rollercoaster.

    Scrim. What happened?

    Nduka: Our relationship for the next year or so was just her sneaking into my house — I’d moved out of my parents house and only had a roommate — and us making out, sometimes, having sex. That was it. I tried for a little romance. We’d buy each other gifts all the time, but we could never go out, and I couldn’t even hold her hand at community hangouts.

    Ene: I was shy and scared.

    Nduka: At first, it was fun showing her all the ways queer sex is better for women. But after a while, I wanted more. 

    Don’t get me wrong, we also had very beautiful conversations. We’d open up to each other about everything and I’d feel so connected to her. So I told myself to be content with that.

    Did you talk to her about wanting more?

    Nduka: I brought it up. But I was also scared of pushing her back into the closet, so I treaded carefully.

    Ene: She’s a really affectionate person. I kept thinking we’d be in public and she wouldn’t be able to help getting close to me and patting my hair out of my face or something. 

    I also knew my friends wouldn’t accept her because she’s always been so openly queer. Yet I admired that about her. How boldly she’s who she is.

    How has your relationship evolved since then?

    Nduka: We’ve come so far, and it really just took us getting comfortable with each other. 

    There were times when I thought I’d leave her for someone else. But I knew the other people wouldn’t be as open and sincere as her. I’d been with like four people before her and the relationships were always shallow and sexual. Not with her.

    It was jarring to accept that I’d fallen in love with Ene at some point.

    Ene: She was patient with me. 

    I remember when we went on our first date in 2018. I was like, what was I so scared about. It was a lovely dinner at a restaurant, and it felt good to be with her in the open. We didn’t overthink or talk too much about it beforehand. It was just time.

    Nduka: In 2019, we talked about getting married. But it was a funny conversation because we weren’t even discussing marrying each other. We were talking about if she’d have to marry a man. Her mum had suddenly started asking her about it, and it was the first time we addressed the fact that we couldn’t even get married. What did that mean for our commitment to each other?

    Ene: I decided I didn’t want to marry anyone if I couldn’t marry her, so we moved in together soon after.

    How does not being able to wed really feel?

    Nduka: It sucks. 

    Ene: It makes me feel vulnerable, and sometimes, insecure about our relationship.

    Nduka: After so long together, it’s something we can comfortably ignore. We focus on what exists: the love between us, how important we are to each other. Everything else is just semantics.

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    After so long together, do your parents, family or friends know?

    Ene: I came out to my parents finally in 2021. And it was the scariest experience ever. I don’t know how I did it. I think they were so shocked they just pretend I never existed.

    Nduka: I mean, they still check in on you from time to time.

    Ene: My eldest brother heard and kept saying, “But you’re both so feminine. How does it work?” He was just laughing at me. It felt invalidating. I don’t know which would’ve been worse, what I got or anger.

    Nduka: My mum knew I was queer from my uni days. But she’s prayed against the “spirit in me” to this day. 

    I think what’s surprising, though, is how our families still quietly support us despite their differing beliefs. They still check in on us. My elder sisters are always in my house wanting to hangout. Most of my friends are open minded. But we had to lose most of her friends.

    How did you feel about that, Ene?

    Ene: Sad. 

    But I never felt truly accepted among my friends, so I don’t let myself get too sad. This one “friend” actually started telling everyone, spreading gossip and lies about our relationship. It was toxic. Those weren’t really friends.

    Nduka: We’ve made so many new healthy ones together.

    Ene: The community has been the perfect support group. Our friends there are some of the best people I’ve ever known.

    What does the future look like for your relationship?

    Ene: We’ve been talking about children. I’ve always wanted kids so it’s been a major topic between us for the last couple of years. We’re still torn between getting a sperm donor we know or using a sperm bank for the IVF.

    Nduka: We’ve been visiting fertility clinics, and they’ve been surprisingly homophobic.

    Ene: We realised it’s smoother to approach them as a single mother than as a queer couple. And that’s been heartbreaking because it’s not like they particularly support an unmarried woman wanting kids either.

    Nduka: Adoption was ruled out for obvious reasons. Crazy, but IVF is actually cheaper too.

    Interesting. What about the pushback you may get while raising children as a queer couple in Nigeria?

    Nduka: We’ve thought about it. But society has already taken the option to marry away from us. We won’t let them take this too.

    Ene: I know it’ll be drama, especially when they start going to primary and secondary school. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’m scared, but not scared enough to not at least try.

    Fair. What was your first major fight about?

    Ene: We fight about money a lot. She’s too extravagant with her spending, especially on gadgets and appliances.

    Nduka: Or you’re too thrifty. She’s saving for the apocalypse or something. She can go days without spending a dime, which is a skill that’s thankfully rubbed off on me.

    Ene: A little. 

    Anyway, I wouldn’t call them major fights. Don’t think we’ve had a major fight.

    Nduka: No.

    On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

    Nduka: 8. Nigeria should let us marry in peace.

    Ene: Yes, 8. When it’s just us, it’s perfect. But once the world comes in…

    Check back every Thursday by 9 AM for new Love Life stories here. The stories will also be a part of the Ships newsletter, so sign up here.

    READ THIS NEXT: Love Life: I Met Him Through a Radio Show as a 40+ Single Mum

  • He Cheated on Me, but I’ll Take Him Back in a Heartbeat

    He Cheated on Me, but I’ll Take Him Back in a Heartbeat

    Funmbi* talks about her relationship with James*, the incidents that led to their breakup, and the possibility of getting back with the love of her life.

    Image created with Starryai

    This is Funmbi’s* story, as told to Chioma.

    I met James* on Tinder in 2021. He was sweet and hilarious, so we exchanged contacts and started talking, but it all fizzled out after a while. 

    One night, I was ranting on my WhatsApp status, and he reached out to check on me. He called me again the following day, and we spoke for about two hours. Before it ended, he gave me a gig. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me that month.

    After that, we just continued talking to each other. He was smart and kind, and the next thing I knew, I was convincing myself that my school in Ilorin wasn’t even that far from Lagos, where he was, and long-distance relationships weren’t that bad. I knew he wanted to ask me out, and he was just waiting for the right moment, but I didn’t have the patience for that, so two weeks later, I asked him to be my boyfriend.

    Our relationship was great. He was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for, and we had this communication rule to make sure the long distance didn’t affect us as much, but I knew something would go wrong. I assumed the worst and hatched a plan for when it happened. So I already thought of the worst thing—him cheating—and then I told myself that he was probably already doing it.

    I wasn’t wrong.

    James and I were heavy on communication, calls, texts, notes by pigeon. As long as we got to speak to each other constantly, we would do it. Two months into our relationship, I started noticing a communication gap. He would disappear for hours and come back without explanation, so one day, I decided to go to Lagos and see what was happening. I had an event to attend, I had cash, and all this man had to do was pick me up from my friend’s place and take me to his house. We needed to talk, and most importantly, we needed to have sex.

    I waited all day for James to show up, but he didn’t. I was livid. I had travelled from Illorin to see him, but he couldn’t drive from Ajah to Lekki to pick me up.  I wanted to be petty. I wanted to do something to spite him, so I had sex with the friend I was staying with. 

    I swear, it didn’t mean anything. To me, sex isn’t such a big deal. I mean, it is, but only when you attach meaning to it, and as far as I was concerned, sex outside a relationship was as meaningless as it came. 

    I think that’s why I was able to forgive him when he finally confessed to cheating on me the first time.

    He came to pick me up from that friend’s house, and after we spoke about the communication gap in our relationship, he confessed. I forgave him after a couple hours because, well, I did just cheat on him, too, but I still loved him, and I already knew he was cheating. He lived in Lagos. We were doing long distance. He gets horny at least twice a week, and he’s a hot guy. There’s too much fish in the river for him not to be tempted. 

    I didn’t want to lose him, and I had a feeling it would happen again because how do you ask a man to stay celibate because of long distance? In Lagos? It’s like begging water and oil to mix. It’s like trying to say Tinubu should approve a ₦400k minimum wage. It won’t work.

    I suggested we open up our relationship. We would still love each other and be together, but we could sleep with whomever we pleased and talk about it. He went ballistic and said he didn’t want that. I think his ego couldn’t handle the thought of someone else touching me. Instead of opening up our relationship, he decided we would take a break and try to sort out our issues. I was fine with that, and then I found out he used that time to cheat again. I gave up after that, and we broke up. 

    It’s been a year since we broke up, and we’ve built a really good friendship.

    The friendship is golden.

    He japa’d last August and has been trying to get me to move. That’s a more complicated discussion. But I still love him a lot, and I know it’s mutual to some extent.

    Want to know something crazy? If he asks me to give it another shot, even with him thousands of miles away, I just might say yes.

  • Real Lovers Know These Are the Best Love Songs Davido Has Ever Made

    Real Lovers Know These Are the Best Love Songs Davido Has Ever Made

    You might disagree with us, but Davido is a lover boy. From the broke lover boy anthem, Aye, to Assurance, which is his dedication of love to his wife, Chioma, it’s clear that OBO loves love in whatever shape or form. 

    We love all his lover boy songs, but everyone would agree that these are the best ones of all time (arranged in no particular order).

    No Competition with Asake

    Who wants to compete with anyone for their baby’s love and affection? Nobody.

    Davido and Asake did this one for the people who love words of affirmation. The song starts and ends with them hailing their baby and waxing lyrical about how nobody could touch the helm of their baby’s garment because she’s just that wonderful.

    Notable lyric: “Fami mo’ra, Angelina Jolie Iwonikan, nikan-nikan-nikan, o ti toh mi.”

    Kante with Fave

    Have you ever been so in love with somebody that you don’t understand how you feel around them? All you know is that you love the feeling and would do anything to ensure it never stops. That’s how Davido felt about the girl this song is about.

    Notable lyric: “I wanna love you for life I no go like to say goodbye.”

    E pain me

    Technically, this is a heartbreak song, but Davido starts the song by saying that the girl who broke his heart is bad (hot AF). He’s hurt by the breakup, but he still wants to be with her. If that isn’t love, then what is?

    Notable lyric: “Bad girl wan carry me do jangulova.”

    Na money with The Cavemen and Angelique Kidjo

    Love without money is fine, but as we can clearly see, in this current economy, love with money is GREAT. Davido, The Cavemen, and Angelique Kidjo knew this when they sat down and put this song together.

    Notable lyric: “Them no dey chop gravel, money go surplus o.”

    Fall

    We understand that love is a strong feeling, and he most likely just wanted to show us how much he loved the person, but someone, please tell Davido that sending money and bananas to fall on someone’s head like rain then sending paparazzi to follow them is not the best way to declare your love.

    Notable lyric:  “I don’t wanna be a player no more”

    READ: The Real 30BG Know These Are the 15 Greatest Davido Songs of ALL Time 

    Assurance

    If your partner has refused to commit to your relationship, you have two options: play this song to remind them of the “lifetime insurance” you’ve been asking for, or leave. We suggest you do both. You may find someone who loves you enough to make money when you go, and Prada will fall on you.

    Notable lyric: “And if I ever leave oh make water carry me dey go.”

    Aye

    It’s nice to know that someone loves you for you and not what they have to offer, but can someone please ask Davido if love will pay for dates or feed me and my baby?

    Notable lyric: “Emergency, baby, you ’cause emergency.”

    1 Milli

    Let’s be honest; how much is even 1 million dollars? Nothing is too much for someone if you love them and want to keep them by your side forever.

    Notable lyric: “How much is one milli, one million dollars?”

    ALSO READ: All the Drama We Can Expect at Chivido 2024

  • It Took Me 30 Years, but I Now Understand My Mother

    It Took Me 30 Years, but I Now Understand My Mother

    After detesting her mother’s parenting methods for much of her growing-up years, Jess (31) had pretty much accepted that she’d never experience a mother-daughter relationship with her mum. But that’s changed since she had her own child.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Freepik

    I spent the better part of my childhood and teenage years detesting my mother. 

    I’m an only child, and growing up, whenever I told someone I didn’t have siblings, they assumed that meant I was being spoiled silly at home. But that was far from my reality. My mum was a perfectionist. There was no room for “spoiling” in her house. 

    There was hardly anything anyone could do to please my mum. She had a particular way of doing things, and I got a scolding if I didn’t sweep under the chairs or forgot to arrange the plates according to size.

    One time, when I was 8 years old, I took a drink from the fridge at night and forgot to close the fridge all the way, so everything inside got warm by morning. A bowl of soup went bad, too. My mum beat me so much that my dad had to intervene.

    My dad was the complete opposite of my mum. He tried his best to spoil me silly, but my mum never stood for it. He once bought me a bicycle in JSS 1 because I was upset about not getting picked to be the class captain. You know what my mum did? She waited for me to go to school, then she picked up the bicycle and donated it to an orphanage home. When I got home and began looking for it, she announced that she’d given it to children with real problems. I was so angry.

    My mum also never let me leave her sight. I soon learned there was no need to ask her if I could stay over at my friends’ houses during the holidays or visit them to play on the weekends. Her answer was always no. If my friends didn’t come to my house, I might as well forget about seeing them till school resumed. 

    Everyone I knew could play outside in the field close to our estate after school, but I was always stuck at home. I still don’t know how my mum caught me the one time I snuck out of the house to play. She came home from work that day and said, “Who gave you permission to go outside?” After that incident, she got us a live-in maid who ensured I never set foot outside unless I was out on an errand.

    We had a maid, but I still did most of the house chores. The only thing our maid did was cook and watch my every move. By 12 years old, I’d started washing my parents’ clothes and mine. The maid left when I turned 14, and I took over the kitchen too. Some days, I wondered if I was actually my mother’s child. Maybe she adopted me because she just wanted a child to punish or something.

    In SS 2, my mum found my diary where I wrote about my crush on the head boy of my secondary school. Strangely, she tried to talk to me about it instead of her usual beatings. It was the most awkward conversation ever. For almost two hours, she gave me story after story of young girls who got pregnant by kissing boys and either died after seeking abortions or giving birth to the children and becoming destined to lives of struggle. 


    ALSO READ: I Had an Abortion All by Myself at 16


    In the end, she burned my diary and made me swear not to crush on anybody again. The only thing I left that conversation with was an intense fear of kisses and the wisdom to never write my thoughts down where my mum could find them again.

    When I entered the university, my mum developed a habit of coming to visit me unannounced. Probably in an attempt to catch me hiding one boy under my bed in the hostel I shared with two other female students. 

    Even at university, I wasn’t free from her scrutiny and scolding. She once called to scream at me because I posted a picture on Facebook where a male classmate was holding me by the waist. 

    In all this, my mum still expected me to confide in her. My dad constantly told me how my mum wasn’t happy that I only told him about things bothering me and never told her. She also didn’t like that my dad was the first person I called to give exciting news. I never understood it. Did she really think she offered a platform where I could come to her freely? 

    If anything, realising she wanted me to talk to her made our relationship even worse. I was so determined to push her to the back of my mind. How dare she traumatise me so much growing up and suddenly want us to be best friends? It didn’t make any sense. 

    As a result, I can almost count the number of times I visited or spoke to my mum after I left uni in 2015. She was the last person to meet my boyfriend (now husband), and I made sure to hire an events planner while preparing for my wedding in 2021 because I didn’t want to clash with her during the wedding prep or have to deal with her opinions on how she thought things should go.

    I became a mother myself in 2023 after almost losing my life to childbirth complications, and let’s just say I’ve learned to be more forgiving of my mother’s antics. Actually, I’d say I now understand her. 

    My change of mind happened when she came to help me with my newborn and stayed for two months. I didn’t want her to come at first, but my mother-in-law fell ill, and I had no other option.

    I thought my mum and I would spend the entire time arguing, but I saw a different side of her. Gone was the judgemental perfectionist. She took care of me and assured me even when I thought I was doing things wrong when I initially had problems with breastfeeding. 

    We also talked a lot during that period, and while she didn’t say it outrightly, I understood that she’d actually done most of what she did in my childhood out of fear. She’d only given birth to one child in a society like Nigeria’s that still considers people with only one child as almost childless. 

    She was under pressure to train her girl child to be socially acceptable and without reproach while navigating fear that she’d make a parenting mistake and her only child would turn wayward. 

    I can relate to that now, too. Half the time, I worry about whether I’m making the right decision for my child and if I should’ve done something better. Fortunately, my experience with my mum has taught me that it’s more important to work with your children and make sure they know why you make certain decisions rather than have them resent you for it. 

    I’m just glad I can finally have the mother-daughter relationship I didn’t have all those years ago. We started late, but it’ll help forge a better one with my own child. I’m grateful for that.


    NEXT READ: How My Mother’s Emotional Abuse Caused My Ghosting Problem

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