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Get a free ticket to Strings Attached and enjoy a feel-good evening of music, dancing and games at Muri Okunola Park, Lagos on May 11, 2024.
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Get a free ticket to Strings Attached and enjoy a feel-good evening of music, dancing and games at Muri Okunola Park, Lagos on May 11, 2024.

Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
Nan: At a campus event back in the University of Ibadan in 1986.
I was in my final year studying economics. It was a public lecture, and she was leaving early when we crossed paths outside the hall. I said hello to her just as I did to some other students, but something about her made me want to ask her name. It was such a fleeting encounter.
Ruth: I told him my name, and he smiled so wide; his late mum’s name was Ruth. It was an interesting coincidence. We parted ways, and he promised to come look for me in my dorm.
I soon forgot about him, and the semester passed without us seeing each other again.
Ruth: Another coincidence.
When I returned to school, my new roommate happened to be his sister. I guess it was meant to be. I followed her to visit this brother of hers about a week after we resumed, and there he was.
Nan: She didn’t even recognise me at first. I saw her at my door and called her name. That’s when she remembered and smiled. I apologised for not looking for her as I’d promised. The visit suddenly became between me and her instead of me and my sister.
We talked and talked, and after that, I started going to their hall for weekly visits.
Nan: Yes. There was something about how confidently she spoke. She reminded me of my mother, besides them sharing names. My late mother was a very formidable woman in her time.
Ruth: I liked that he gave me so much attention. He was also calm and smart. Back then, he ran a small poultry business that was earning him cool cash, so I felt confident to get into a relationship with him. He seemed responsible.
Ruth: Not much different from nowadays.
We went out on dates, attended many parties together, and when we got back from school, he’d call on me at home. But we didn’t stay in the same city, so he did that only once in a while. I was always excited to see him.
Nan: We were always together once lecture hours ended. We didn’t have the luxury of calling or texting. Once we weren’t together, we wouldn’t hear from each other till the next time, so I was always looking to meet up with her again.
I was graduating at the end of that session, so as that time came, we got a lot more serious about the end goal of our relationship.
Ruth: It’s so long ago, but I remember that we were so in love. You couldn’t tell us anything about heartbreak or how we were still in the honeymoon stage and all that. You would’ve started avoiding me if we were friends then. All I talked about was him. My friends were supportive, though. They all loved him.
Ruth: In some ways, yes. Although this wouldn’t have been my response at the time.
Nan: After the ceremony, I decided I wanted us to get married immediately, so I planned to come with my kinsmen to visit her father as soon as I got home. Not up to a month later, we arrived at her father’s duplex then in Zaria.
We got married some five months later, and she left school so we could start housekeeping right away.
Ruth: I was in love and ready to start the family. I thought I didn’t need a degree. I don’t know why. So many women were getting married and returning to complete their degrees. But everyone was supportive of it. We already planned that I’d open a store, and I did.
We were very comfortable for a while, and I didn’t regret that decision. I got a couple of computer certifications later on.
Nan: I wanted her to be able to stay home and enjoy birthing and nurturing our family without the pressures of work. I was also comfortable enough then to make that decision because of my business, help from both our parents, and I also entered civil service some months into our marriage.
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Nan: Things went smoothly for years.
Ruth: We continued spending all our time together whenever we could. When he was at work, I managed our small grocery store which we merged with the sales side of his poultry business. When he was home, he came to the store and we talked and made plans then went home together.
We had our first two children in ‘88 and ‘89.
Nan: Parenthood was a wake-up call for us. I think once the children became one and two years old, we realised that life isn’t beans. Money started finishing anyhow. There was always something basic to buy.
Ruth: Emotions started running high out of stress to make money and have time for all the children’s needs. He had to find supplementary sources of income which meant travelling a lot at some point. I suddenly felt left on my own to take care of two young children. They didn’t have to tell me twice to adopt family planning.
Ruth: With a lot of tears, but also love. It didn’t feel too unbearable because we still cared deeply for each other and the life we were trying to build. Luckily, I had my mum come to help for several months. And money was coming in, so it wasn’t too bad.
Nan: There was so much pressure on me as the breadwinner. I wanted to be more present to support her at home, but I knew where my responsibilities lay. The only thing we got wrong was not communicating more to make sure our connection was still there.
Again, I envy this generation where we can just pick up our phones to call when we’re out of sight for too long.
Ruth: I felt he was using the fact that he needed to go out to make money to stay away from home as much as possible. He could go weeks on a business trip, and I’d just be left wondering what exactly he was doing. But he’d always wire money to us every week.
Ruth: Yes, after about two years, things settled.
He’d been able to establish a cocoa distribution business, so in 1992, we relocated to Ikom, Cross River, fully. I had our lastborn in 1993, and things were good. I had to close my shop for us to relocate, and he lost his poultry somewhere along the way.
Nan: But I’d also gotten high up in civil service, so things were great.
Ruth: We had peace for up to ten years until 2001 when everything crashed.
Nan: My cocoa business went bad. I lost a large consignment after a bad deal and had to use most of my revenue to pay off loans. It was a very tough time for us. The kids were in secondary school and fees weren’t cheap even then. Luckily, our house was rented for us by the federal government.
Ruth: We lived in a nice house and estate but ate hand to mouth for months.
Nan: We had to go back to the drawing board, so I came up with the plan to use a large chunk of our savings to go into oil and gas. We had to buy two tankers, employ drivers and pay for parking at a trailer park daily.
Ruth: I actually advised against it because I felt he didn’t know enough about the industry to get into it.
Nan: I consulted with someone who was running the business successfully, and we thought we had all the right information to hit the ground running. But it was one issue after the other: policies changed every other month, there was always some official or officer to bribe, and you never knew what your drivers were doing with your tankers once they crossed the expressway.
Ruth: Long story short, we lost the two tankers and ended up in a long court case over illegal interstate distribution over something one of the drivers did behind his back. All our money and investment was gone in less than a year. We’ve still not sighted those tankers till today.
It was a brutal stage in our life. Not only was it jarring to lose so much money in only a couple of years, but our standard of living changed greatly. We only had one source of income: his civil service job.
Nan: It took us years to cover our debts and get reasonable savings.
Ruth: We were two angry adults for a long time. Although, we weren’t necessarily angry with each other. There was a lot of quiet in the house for years, and more tears.
Nan: I blamed myself for how things turned out for our family, so I kept to myself mostly. I cut off most of our friends and focused on going to work and coming back. Ruth was always at church so the divide just widened.
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Nan: Oh countless times. We fought during those early years when I used to travel a lot. We fought when I asked that we move our lives to Ikom.
Ruth: I didn’t know anyone there and had never even been to Cross River before. Besides, it was never part of the plan when we first got married. I refused to pack, but he had to bring our families into it, and I had to consider that we needed to move to where he could make more money.
Nan: We fought after the fuel business went under. I realised I should’ve been more transparent with her about the running of the business. I should’ve listened to her input. It was a tough time indeed.
Ruth: We’ve simply coasted through since then. Nan focused on work rather than business. I’ve done some buying and selling over the years, mostly fabric and clothes. But mostly, I ran the home until he retired and the children moved out one by one.
Nan: Now, we survive on returns from investments I made over the last decade. Properties, dividend-paying stocks and our children’s goodwill, haha.
Ruth: We also bought land right after his retirement in 2022, and started building small small. We’ll move into the BQ later this year.
What’s kept us sane is always sharing our plans with each other just to soundboard if nothing else. We’ve also not gone into many high-risk investments, but I think we’ve tried.
Nan: Yes, we took a lot of risk in our time and made the most of it.
Nan: We decided in 1987 to do this life together. If one can’t keep that most special vow, why should anyone trust us with anything else? It’s been a decision every step of the way, that we’re a team and we have no choice but to carry each other along.
Ruth: What you just said, I think that’s it. We’ve learnt to consciously carry each other long no matter what. Whether it’s a win or lose, we regard it as ours, never his or mine. Especially after what happened in 2001, it tore us apart but also drew us close. A lot of the decisions he made then, he made alone. We’ve learnt to be more accountable to each other since.
Nan: Maybe it’s also our upbringing. We were taught that it was till death do us part.
Ruth: Just because that initial passion and romance fade doesn’t mean everything else that’s great about marriage — companionship, duty, faith — means nothing.
Nan: But if it wasn’t ingrained in us by society to value these things, maybe we’d have divorced by now. There were certainly many opportunities for us to do so.
Nan: 10. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours, and we’ll value it like it’s gold.
Ruth: So well said. I’ll say 10 too.
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.
IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU’D LOVE THIS: Love Life: I Had a Crush on My Customer


Get a free ticket to Strings Attached and enjoy a feel-good evening of music, dancing and games at Muri Okunola Park, Lagos on May 11, 2024.
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In this story, Juliet* (31) talks about navigating relationships as a person living with a disability. She shares her past dating experiences and why she’s extra careful about romantic relationships now.
As told to Boluwatife
Image designed by Freepik
I’m used to the stares.
Everywhere I go, people stop and stare at me. The funniest of the lot are those who think they do a good job of hiding their stares. But I only have polio-induced partial limb paralysis; I’m not blind. I see how they silently gesture to their friends to look at me.
Polio hit when I was two, and I’ve been walking with a bad limp since then. It got worse when I got into secondary school. As a teenager, that wasn’t great. As a secondary school student, it was even worse. I was bullied a lot.
My nickname in school was “Miss Koi Koi” because of the crutches I used occasionally when I felt more pain than usual from my deformed leg. The crutches gave a “koi” sound — hence the nickname.
I think my classmates were just jealous that the teachers had a soft spot for me, and I never had to participate in the compulsory sports activities every Wednesday.
I didn’t have a boyfriend until SS 2. Jesse* was one of the few people who were nice to me in class. Interestingly, we only got to know each other after a teacher forced us to share a seat in class. We became friends after I shared my yoghurt with him one time.
I’m not sure how we started “dating”. Our classmates began calling us husband and wife because we sat together and always talked in class, and we just went with it. I didn’t mind, and I felt like I could finally “belong” with my classmates. School relationships were a thing, and being part of that group made me feel normal.
We only dated for a term, though. Whatever we had ended after I saw him joking and laughing with one of my bullies and I confronted him about it. It turned into a fight and I can’t forget a line he said: “I’m even pitying you by talking to you and you’re disturbing me”.
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It was as if someone poured cold water on me. He wasn’t talking to me because he found me interesting. He was just being a nice guy trying to save me from having no one else to talk to. Our “relationship” ended there, and we found a way to exchange seat partners.
I still get pity just as much as the stares, and while pity helps when people give up their seats for me on the bus, it doesn’t feel so great in relationships. When I say relationships, I also mean friendships because I’ve only had two other boyfriends in my life. I met most of my long-term friends at a baking school in 2014. They’re good people, but I feel somehow when they don’t invite me out for things because they think I shouldn’t walk too much or when they feel uncomfortable when people stare at me.
When I met my second boyfriend on Facebook in 2016, I told him about my condition and he seemed fine with it. But he also thought he was doing me a favour by dating me. Anytime we argued, he’d complain about how I didn’t appreciate him being with me and not minding what people might say about my disability. This was someone who didn’t even introduce me to his family or friends. We dated for a year before he went to marry someone from his village.
I don’t know if I should even call my last partner a “boyfriend” — we were only together for two weeks in 2018. He was a neighbour, and he started avoiding me after we had sex a couple of times. That was strange because he put so much effort into toasting me, which was why I even agreed to date a neighbour. I think he just wanted to know what sex with a disabled person was like. I really thought he genuinely loved me, and I felt stupid when it ended.
I’ve been single since then, but it’s not like I don’t get suitors. I’m fairly active on Facebook and men flood my DMs every time I post my pictures or make funny posts about my experiences living with a disability. They say stuff like, they wish they could marry me so I wouldn’t be lonely or that they’re “willing” to give us a chance because I seem interesting.
Once, I jokingly talked about some of these DMs on Facebook as well, and people implied I was just being difficult. People seem to think I shouldn’t have a choice just because I’m disabled. They expect that I should be happy some men are even showing interest. But what kind of interest is “I’m willing to give us a chance”? That sounds like they’re trying to save me from a life of loneliness. It’s just pity, and I’m tired of it because I know a day will come when they will rub it in my face.
I want love, and I hope to get married someday. But I see how men treat able-bodied women every day. How much more will they treat someone they think they’re doing a favour? I’m really scared of that.
I feel lonely most times, but maybe that’s better than being with another man who will destroy the small self-esteem I’ve managed to develop.
*Names have been changed for anonymity.
NEXT READ: Men Want to Have Sex With Me but Avoid Me in Public

Get a free ticket to Strings Attached and enjoy a feel-good evening of music, dancing and games at Muri Okunola Park, Lagos on May 11, 2024.


Get a free ticket to Strings Attached and enjoy a feel-good evening of music, dancing and games at Muri Okunola Park, Lagos on May 11, 2024.
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Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
Tunde: A mutual friend introduced us. Not even for a relationship. She felt we’d be good friends because we both loved video games and animation.
Malobi: She invited us for a small get-together in her house. We started talking, and that was it. Within weeks, we were hanging out a lot and having sex before we ever decided to get committed.
Tunde: Anyone who knows me knows I’m as passionate about games as they get. It’s hard to find someone you can geek out with without limit, even with my fellow gamer guys.
She’s just as obsessed as I am, and it felt so good to spend time with her.
Malobi: The sex just snuck in on us. I honestly can’t even remember how it happened. But it was memorable, so we kept doing it.
Tunde: It was everything together.
Once we started talking about games, strategies, gist from our favourite game companies and popular gamers, and analysing new animations, it transitioned into always looking forward to telling her things in general. Everything from what someone said at the office to what I planned to eat on Sunday.
She wouldn’t share as much, but there I was, always telling her everything.
Malobi: I’m just a more reserved person. I usually don’t even have much to tell. But I always wanted to spend time with him. One day, I realised I always wanted to be in his space. I was in his house and room a lot.
Tunde: We went from wrestling over the games and gamepads to sex. We didn’t even say let’s reach second base first.
My guys still laugh at me when they hear.
Malobi: It took a couple of months.
It was one funny Saturday evening. My parents were out of town for the weekend, and my sister was in school. He came by my house — empty-handed, as usual. I was studying for a professional course, so I couldn’t join him in playing COD. We both got hungry, and I pulled him to the kitchen to make jollof pasta and dodo with me.
Somewhere in the midst of that, he asked me out.
Tunde: I loved the feeling of standing with her, frying plantains.
Malobi: I said I was okay with it as long as he took me out on actual dates and spent real money on me. Because that’s the real difference between dating and being friends with benefits, isn’t it?
Malobi: Not really. We went out sometimes, but not nearly enough. Like once in months. I didn’t mind at the time because we’re both homebodies.
Tunde: We also don’t like each other’s outside preferences.
Tunde: I’m more of a beer and lounge guy. She likes high-effort places like beaches or restaurants and big events where she’ll stay for an hour and then start saying we should go home. Uber transport wasted just like that?
Malobi: We like each other a lot better indoors.
It didn’t take us a year before we moved in together in 2019. I’ve always been scared of the idea of co-habiting with anyone because I was always annoyed with my parents and siblings growing up, but we’re actually the most perfect roomies.
Tunde: She doesn’t snore, and we’re the same level of clean, so no one annoys the other. We just get each other’s subtle needs. She’s not a morning person at all. So I don’t go near her until just before we leave for work around 8 a.m.
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Tunde: After I moved out of my parents’ house, she got a job closer to my house, and after a while of going from her house to work and then staying over at my place for days, I convinced her to move in.
Malobi: I spent almost a year moving in. It wasn’t like I went home, packed all my things in boxes, announced my departure to the family and moved. Maybe that’s why my parents allowed me, because they didn’t even know it was happening until it was too late.
I didn’t do it on purpose, though; I was just lazy.
Tunde: Apart from easy access, I’m not sure it has much. We get to talk in person anytime we want. We talk about everything and anything. We honestly have the most insane conversations.
Malobi: We might start a podcast. We keep procrastinating.
But also, living together is probably the only reason we haven’t broken up yet.
Malobi: Sometime around 2021, we stopped being exclusive.
Tunde: We drifted apart and started liking other people, so we agreed it was fine to see them.
Tunde: It’s more like we took breaks, but they never lasted. We always come back to each other.
Malobi: But then, we can’t really seem to commit. There’s always this feeling that something is missing. We’ve spoken about it a couple of times. We’d go months without sex, then finally have sex, and the relationship goes great for several more months.
When I got pregnant in 2022, I almost didn’t tell anyone about it. I was so close to aborting. Now, we have a kid, we’re closer than ever, but we’re still not sure we want to get married or anything like that.
Tunde: Of course, my parents want us to get married yesterday. They already call her my wife. But they respect that I’m not ready yet. I’ll take things at my own pace.
Malobi: Omo, my mum stopped talking to me for a while when I told her I was pregnant but we weren’t ready for marriage yet. You know how parents feel about babies. It’s like an automatic call from God to get married at once.
Tunde: We honestly don’t have one yet.
Malobi: And that’s fine. We’re all just managing Nigeria as it comes. Homeschooling our little toddler has helped us bond. She likes games just like us two.
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Malobi: Before we ever got romantically involved, we had this huge fight over a game I won. We were playing at someone’s party, and someone distracted him, so he was convinced that was the only reason I won.
I felt offended by that.
Tunde: She now brought gender and sexism into it.
Malobi: I mean, the way he said it was that there was no way I’d ever win him. Why would he just assume I can’t play well enough?
Tunde: I got angry with the babe who distracted me, and while we were exchanging words, Malobi cut in with her own. I found it wild because, at that point, I’d already played against her several times, and she’d beat me a couple of times. So why would I think she’d never beat me because she’s a girl?
Malobi: We made up some hours after. We both agreed we’d had a lot to drink. We’ve fought over games many times after sha.
Tunde: Many times. That’s how this whole thing started. It used to hit different when we’d just played a long, highly competitive game together.
Malobi: Now, it happens less, but I’m so happy we still make time to play for long hours.
Tunde: She also does eSports and makes us small money from time to time. I get so proud when we go out and she wins.
Tunde: We keep separate accounts if that’s what you’re asking.
Malobi: We live together, so we share most major expenses. Also, baby. Babies are expensive, but we’ve never so much as argued over money.
Malobi: Nope. I’ve enjoyed myself so far. Also, I can think of no easier way to have escaped my father’s house. I’ve never known one day of sadness here.
Tunde: Wow. I don’t even know what to say. I’m glad that living together has made you happy. I don’t regret it either. Even more beautiful than her moving into my flat in 2019 was when we moved into our current place together after COVID.
Malobi: It’s been all peace and good vibes from day one. Except when we have dry spells and turn to other people, but it’s always temporary.
Tunde: Maybe 7. We obviously don’t have everything figured out.
Malobi: Yeah, 7.
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.
Here’s another: Love Life: People Mistake Me for Her Mother

Get a free ticket to Strings Attached and enjoy a feel-good evening of music, dancing and games at Muri Okunola Park, Lagos on May 11, 2024.

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

Doris: I’d just moved to Canada for school in 2022 and got this apartment two weeks in. It was a two-bed and she happened to be my housemate. She’d moved in the day before me. When I came in alone with my luggage, she received me so warmly. She helped me bring my stuff in. Her aunty, who lived in a different province, was there for the weekend, and they both helped me unpack and settle in.
Lase: That long weekend, we talked on and off — about our plans, short and long-term, and agreed it was wild that we both came from Lagos.
She’s such an open sharer, and our rapport was great from day one. I knew I was lucky to have her as a housemate. All my friends who’d japa to different parts of Canada always complained about their housemates. Either they were like ghosts or they were just problematic. That’s how I was deceived into thinking I wouldn’t be as lonely in Canada as people warned.
Doris: By Monday, her aunt was gone, we had to start attending classes straight away, and the loneliness set in properly.
Doris: We spent most of the day in school, and we weren’t studying the same course, so we hardly saw each other. Also, we had to find jobs quickly, so we constantly went for open calls and interviews in those early days.
Lase: We weren’t in a popular province, so not many other Nigerians were in school. The other foreigners weren’t giving “approachable”, so everyone just kept to themselves. You tried to learn what you could from the lecturers and you went to your house; that was it.
At home, we were too tired to even chat, especially when we both got jobs the next week.
Doris: We spent most of what we made on bills and groceries/toiletries. So, on weekends, it was more sleep, small gisting and doom-scrolling on TikTok. There was no one to visit, no fun place to go. It was school, work, bed and repeat. The holidays were worse; no school or work.
For several months, we only saw or talked to each other. This was in sharp contrast with my life in Lagos. I still dream about my active social life pre-japa to this day.
Lase: Yes, but I think it’s because we got used to it, not that things got that much more fun. We go out more now, though.
Doris: We moved down to Alberta in late 2023, after our graduation. That helped us find our tribe and expanded our social activities a lot. Yet we could still go weeks without seeing anyone but ourselves and some work colleagues — we both work hybrid.
Lase: We got so close, very early on, that we did everything together. As far as 2022, the year we met, we’d sleep in the same bed just so we could gist longer and escape loneliness. In Alberta, we just continued on with that habit.
Doris: When we started talking about our forced celibacy.
This was still in 2022. We discovered we were both fairly sexually active in Lagos. Having to stay off sex because there was simply no time or opportunities to find love post-japa was jarring.
Lase: Five months in, it suddenly hit me that I wasn’t having any sex on top of being lonely, and I felt so physically uncomfortable. I’ve never even thought of myself as not being able to do without sex. But I was losing my mind. I think it was the celibacy combined with the loneliness, homesickness and general anxiety about a completely new phase in my life. Talking it out with her really helped me stay sane.
Doris: One day, we started talking about how we weren’t getting any, and one day again, we tried to make out in bed. It felt good, and we went on from there.
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Doris: No.
Lase: Nope.
Doris: I’d say I’m sex-fluid.
Lase: If we have to have labels.
We’re both open-minded, making it easier to notice the attraction between us and act on it.
Lase: It seemed platonic at first because that’s just the default way we’re socialised to approach people of your gender. But as we got closer and started talking about everything, and sleeping in the same bed even though we had separate rooms, I started to identify that we were getting more romantic and sexual.
If we were of opposite genders, we would immediately know we liked each other once things like that started to happen, so why do we ignore the signs when it comes to the same gender?
Doris: I’d been attracted to women in the past, but I’d never thought to act on that attraction until now. So, I guess I see what you mean by necessity. Regardless, the attraction was there. When we made out the first time, it was the most amazing thing ever. It felt like some well-deserved delayed gratification.
Doris: No. First, we made out a lot without really talking about why we were doing it and if we should be getting intimate. But we were a lot happier once that started.
Lase: It wasn’t until we had sex some weeks later that we talked about what we were to each other. We weren’t really in a hurry to put labels. I think we also didn’t need to because our individual priorities were to find our feet in this new society we found ourselves in. So we were thinking about passing our master’s, getting a better job and then an even better job to pay for everything we needed to secure our continued stay in Canada.
Doris: So we were just fine with being each other’s source of companionship and release for the time being. We had the talk and decided we cared a lot about each other, and that was it. We decided to focus on graduating well.
Doris: It was a lot of talking, supporting and picking after each other, literally splitting everything down the middle, from bills to food and money in general.
Lase: And lots of sex. It made everything better when we could be home after a long day and give each other orgasms for days.
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Doris: The dynamic changed. So, to begin with, while we were in Aurora (Canada), we hardly went out together. Our relationship was within the confines of our small student apartment. When we moved to Calgary, Alberta, we started going out in the open as a couple, and it felt like this big glare was on us.
Lase: It felt like literally stepping out of the closet.
Doris: We were compelled to come straight with ourselves and decide we wanted to be committed to each other. But that hasn’t come without its struggles.
Doris: The major one is that I’m a thick hot babe, and Lase is quite petite… so there’ve been instances when I’ve been mistaken for her mum. And that’s just crazy because we’re the same age. It’s happened so many times, and it does put a strain on our otherwise perfect relationship.
Lase: Canadian locals are wild because I just can’t understand how they can all make such a mistake. They see two women looking intimate, and because one is bigger than the other, they just assume she’s the mum?
Doris: It also doesn’t help that I’m much darker.
Doris: We actually go out less these days. I know we shouldn’t hide, but sometimes, it’s just easier.
Lase: We don’t talk about it so much because I’m scared it’s a sore point for both of us, but for her most especially. I just give her space to express how she feels about it and listen.
Doris: Besides that, it’s been bliss. We have the coolest small group of friends from our neighbourhood and workplaces. Like I said earlier, we’ve found our tribe, and we’re all pretty like-minded. I love the freedom we have to love and be present for each other through major milestones.
Lase: You know how alienating Canada can be. I have cousins here, but they’re all in Toronto and Ottawa. One’s in Winnipeg — I mentioned her mum helped me settle in earlier. Doris and I are actually planning a trip to Toronto this summer, so we’ll hopefully get to unite with them soon.
But so far, social media is how I keep up with my family. My parents are in the UK now, and with the time difference, it’s been hard to keep up regular communication.
Doris: My parents are still in Lagos, but it’s the same time zone issue. They gave up on me at least a year ago. We try our best to have video calls most important holidays or birthdays. Same with my siblings who are in different parts of Nigeria.
I’ve introduced Lase as my housemate and best friend; they love her.
Lase: Yeah. Nobody knows we’re dating except our Alberta friends.

Doris: Honestly, no. Except we have to.
Lase: They’ve started putting marriage pressure on me, but I’ve hinted that I may never get married. And that might be what ends up happening. Because me I don’t like stress.
Doris: I think we’ll just go with the flow. We’re perfectly happy the way we are now. But who knows? We’ve started talking about whether we want to have kids or not. We’ve also started thinking about the legal aspects of our relationship. Things like what would happen in the case of emergencies, when we’re not legally bound?
Lase: We might just elope and have a civil union. Who knows?
Doris: You know what? No.
Lase: Maybe little arguments, but none that I can even talk about because I can’t remember what might’ve caused them.
Doris: Actually, we had one some days ago.
I wanted to stop by a SubWay outlet to grab some food on my way home, and I asked if she wanted anything. She said yes and told me what she wanted. I got home and gave it to her, and she said she didn’t want it anymore.
Lase: She went and got food for only me. I asked where hers was, and she said she’d changed her mind about getting for herself. How would I sit and eat alone? I only wanted it because you said you were getting some. I didn’t want you eating alone, and I’d start feeling long throat.
Doris: That’s still so annoying. Like, I told you I didn’t know that’s what you had in mind, and you still didn’t eat the food.
Do you know that food still sits in our fridge to this day? Which is just a joke because we know trash SubWay doesn’t last a day.
Lase: This wasn’t a serious fight sha. Just one of those little arguments.
Doris: Hmm.
Lase: A sweet 8. We could do this forever.
Doris: I can actually see it. Two cantankerous 80-year-old cat ladies still giving each other the best orgasms every night. I’m dying of laughter.
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.
For more on public discrimination against one-half of a couple, read this: Love Life: We Strongly Believe in Different Religions


Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
John: We met at a family gathering, a naming ceremony. I was friends with one of her older cousins, who invited me. I was introduced to her, and she made a big impression on me. She was smart and beautiful — and still is.
So I asked if I could visit her at school, and she agreed.
Funmi: He was charming when we met. I remember thinking he dressed so well for someone who wasn’t Yoruba. His Senator was clean and crisp, and his shoes; he didn’t overaccessorise. At that time, they used to tell us South-South people knew how to spoil women and treat them like eggs, unlike Yoruba men. So I saw him as the full package because he also looked good.
Funmi: He surprised me, so I didn’t even have the chance to be nervous. He just showed up on campus and someone came to call me in my hostel. I was in my final year, first semester. At first, I didn’t even recognise the name when they told me. When I saw him, I screamed. I was so embarrassed that I did that.
John: I thought she wasn’t happy to see me. Then I saw her smile and realised she was just surprised — just as I planned. I brought her a gift and some food. We sat and ate together and that’s how I started visiting until her graduation.
John: Yes. I asked her to be my girlfriend on my second visit. But she didn’t answer me until we met during her brief break before she had to be back in school chasing her project.
Funmi: I wanted to say yes right away, but I had to form first. To be serious, though, I wanted to be sure I was saying yes for the right reasons. I also thought about the fact that I knew he was a Christian, and I was raised as a Muslim.
Funmi: I just really liked him. I loved all the attention he gave me most especially. I didn’t want that to end. I knew our religions might be an issue. But at that time, neither of us was particularly religious, so it didn’t feel like a big enough thing to keep me from trying out the relationship.
John: I also felt my family might have issues with it, but I chased her purely because I was attracted to her.
After her graduation, we went into courtship fully. We had several dates, and we talked about our future for almost two years. She was reluctant to talk about marriage, but I wasn’t.
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Funmi: I was young and fresh out of school. I wanted space to be a single babe in the real world before entering my husband’s house.
I also wanted to be sure I was doing the right thing. I had at least three relatives who were in abusive marriages, so I wanted to be absolutely sure. I wanted my nuclear family to get to know him well and give their blessings.
John: When we’d dated for about two years, her father called me to his house and told me he was happy with me marrying her but was considering that I was South-South.
He didn’t want my people to treat her anyhow.
John: Yes, but not even as seriously as I’d expected.
He said he didn’t want me to forcefully convert her. He asked if I’d allow her to practise her faith, and that was it. He was going to make her cut me off, but his intuition wouldn’t allow him to do that. I was speechless. We spoke for some time, and he said that when I was ready, I had his blessings.
Funmi: I didn’t even know this happened until several months later, after he proposed.
Funmi: I got pregnant. Haha.
John: Yes. But beyond that, I was already determined to marry her. We courted for three years, and it was three years of bliss. I’d never been with a more compassionate and graceful woman.
Funmi: He never even gave me a chance to doubt him or check whether I was missing out on something outside.
Immediately after I told him I was pregnant, he’d gotten a ring and asked me to be his wife. He took me to a restaurant for the proposal, and I was just there crying as strangers clapped for us.
Funmi: We had a white wedding, a nikkai and two traditional weddings. It was a week-long affair. I always think back to it with longing because it was such a happy time. I still don’t know how our families could afford it all.
John: It drained several pockets that’s for sure. But it was perfect. We still have the giant photo albums. Do you youngees still do photo albums?

John: The opposition I foresaw didn’t come to pass as I feared. A few aunties and uncles were unhappy and showed it, but they didn’t do anything to stop or spoil our wedding. They just disapproved passively.
Funmi: I have an Aunty Bimpe who kept saying, “Ahhh, Sofiat. O ti lo fe Igbo. Catholic, for that matter. How do you want to do it?” She had the loudest voice ever. I just kept telling her that John wasn’t Igbo o.
John: I won’t say perfectly. It’s been a journey.
Funmi: When we got together, it wasn’t such a big deal because, truthfully, we were both surface-level in our religions. But over time, we’ve gotten more devout.
John: Some ten years into our marriage, Funmi started wearing scarves and turbans and covering all parts of her body. It was a bit shocking for me. She’s gone to Mecca four times.
Somewhere along the line, I also started taking prayer meetings and bible study seriously. These things didn’t happen all at once, but we found ourselves clinging back to the faith we were raised on to stay sane.
Funmi: But strangely, this didn’t divide us. I think it’s because we’ve come to accept that the other person’s religion isn’t cursed simply because it’s different.
I love that he’s embracing God. And I love how it has affected his heart and actions. He’s become a lot less stressed out about everyday struggles.
Funmi: Of course, we have. Family and clerics often try to plant seeds of discontent.
My Muslim brothers would raise questions challenging whether I’m a true believer if my husband is an “infidel”. When I was younger, they’d even refer to me like I was still unmarried.
John: In church, they just ignore. They pretend like she doesn’t exist.
When we started having kids it got even more complicated. She always took the three of them to the mosque from day one. But I only started taking them to church when our youngest was around seven years old.
Some of the church members treated them with a hint of disdain and never liked to refer to their mother. It was so funny. You could tell they were doing their best to be polite about it, too. I eventually changed churches, and that was that.
John: It wasn’t without its struggles. Many friends thought it was unwise to do that, that we were only confusing them. But how could we help them choose which religion to follow?
I also sensed it would be the thing that caused a divide between Funmi and I if either of us said, “It’s better for them to follow my religion.” It would be like saying one religion was better.
Funmi: Exactly. Now that they’re adults, they’ve chosen their own paths. Our eldest is Muslim, while the other two followed their father. I think it’s worked out well.
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John: Money.
We had a joint account from the first day of our marriage. And about two years in, I dug deep into it to buy a property at the spur of the moment because I thought it was too good of an opportunity to miss.
Funmi: But I’d been planning for months to start a wholesale business. I only had two months left, and it was perfect timing because I’d just left my job to take care of our first child.
I think I was most angry because he didn’t discuss it with me first. Also, we didn’t get the promised returns on time and had to struggle to take care of our child the way I wanted to because we were short on cash.
The house was hot for about five months.
John: I felt so bad, but I don’t know why it took me a while to apologise. I didn’t like that my good intentions were soiled so badly.
Funmi: Religion-wise, we also fought in our first year of marriage because he tried to have sex with me during Ramadan. Mehn, I cried o.
In my mind, I was saying, “This is why they told me not to marry infidel o.”
John: You’re not serious.
Funmi: Forgive and forget no ni.
John: The property investment worked out in the end. We’re still reaping the benefits today.
Funmi: And he’s not a fool. As soon as I explained to him what the holy fast meant, he respected it and helped me get through the month successfully.
I can boldly say that for the last 30 years, he has never not brought home a basket of fruits every day during Ramadan. Most times, he even joins the fast and prays to his God. He’s a blessed man.
Funmi: Before nko. 10.
John: We’re one, so you know my answer already.
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.
Highly Recommended: Love Life: It’s Been 9 Years, and I Still Can’t Keep Up With Her Libido

Your heart should melt a little every time your boyfriend’s name pops on the screen. If this isn’t the case for you, you’re doing something wrong in your relationship. The good thing is that we know just how to fix this problem.

Here are 60 cute names for your boyfriend on your mobile phone.
It doesn’t matter if his head is small.
He might be 20 years older, but he’ll always be your baby.
Before you roll your eyes, is he a pie or not?
If he’s a traditional Yoruba man.
Think about it —who else dares lay claim to him?
If he’s a sugar daddy that plows your farmland efficiently.
A little French vibe is sexy AF.
Because without him, you cannot exist.
It means “My happiness” in Yoruba.
If he’s your personal money minting machine
If he worships the ground you tread.
If he’s a sugar daddy.
If he’s a businessman that rains cash on you unprovoked.
Another one for the Yoruba demons. It means “My chosen one”.
If y’all love story is nothing short of a Shakespearean affair.

If he’s head over heels in love.
If you’re a Wizkid fan, your boo is your personal Wizzy Baby
If he’s a fashion killer.
Because you’re his Arolake.
If you’ve accepted him as your personal saviour.
If he’s heavy on respect.
If he’s a freaky little thing.
If he used pick up lines from Titanic during your talking stage.
For a man who is 100% committed to giving you a soft life.
For the plus-size bros.
Use this only when you’re sure he’s your final destination.
Straightforward but genuinely from the heart.
If he brightens up your world.
It’s only right because you’re his African princess.
This is for a man who cracks you up.
A little Mexican vibe to spice things up.
If he’s a successful yahoo boy. You’ll be his Olori Pablo.
This name is for a lover who is 100% reliable.
It means “Lover” in Spanish.
If he’s a brown skin hottie.
It means “My heart” in Igbo.
This is for a man who knows how to give you multiple orgasms.
If you’re aware that he’s every woman’s dream.
This is for a man who knows how to press all your right buttons.
If he’s short, dark and handsome.
It’s the cutest name for him if y’all enjoy love bites.
For a lover who looks nothing like his age.
Save his number with this name if he has proposed.
It is Spanish for “My love”.
This one is oldie but goldie.
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After him, there’s only him.
It means “My black and shine” in Yoruba.
This is the one if you’ve bagged yourself a prince from the north.
Because you’re his princess.
If Bonnie & Clyde have nothing on y’all.
Very straight to the point.
Fight anyone who tells you this isn’t cute.
This is for a man invested in bringing sweetness into your life.
If you cherish his “gbola” more than the relationship itself.
As a reminder that you’re his Barbie.
If you’re out there doing love thangz with an Egbon Adugbo.
Another cute name in Igbo if your man is “Talk and do”.
Normally, the LOYL should be your best human in the world.
If he’s an IJGB that chose to die on your matter.
If you’re only with him for the genital slamming.
Enjoyed this piece about the cute names for boyfriend on your phone? You’ll like this: 20 Cute Nicknames You Can Start Calling Your Vagina Today