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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.

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    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

  • I Regret Divorcing My First Wife

    I Regret Divorcing My First Wife

    Tokunbo’s* first marriage began to crash barely a year after the wedding due to infidelity and constant arguments. He married his current wife while processing his divorce in 2017 and thought he’d finally found a shot at happiness. 

    Seven years later, he’s struggling with regret and hopes to reunite with his first wife.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image source: Freepik

    I married my first wife, Yetunde* when I was 27 years old, but I’d loved her since I was 10. 

    We were childhood friends. Actually, she was my childhood bully. We lived in the same estate and we met when my dad bought me a bicycle as a reward for getting the first position in JSS 1. I rode the bike to the farthest part of my street that day, and as expected with children, other boys came up to me and asked me to let them ride for a bit. 

    I allowed a few boys, and Yetunde came to ask for a turn, too. I refused — not because she was a girl, though. I had a very small stature growing up, and Yetunde, who is two years older than me, was taller and generally bigger than me. I was scared she wouldn’t return my bicycle. She thought I was just being mean and forcefully dragged the bicycle from me. She did return it later, but we became sworn enemies after that day.

    Like I said, we lived in the same estate, so we always ran into each other. Whenever Yetunde saw me, she either mocked me by calling me “Stingy koko” or knocked down whatever was in my hands. I’m not even sure how we later became friends. I just know I reported her to my elder sister, and she made her stop bothering me. We became inseparable, and I thought she was the prettiest girl ever.

    We started dating in SS 3 and tried continuing in university, but we schooled in different states, and our love didn’t survive the distance. We only communicated occasionally via Facebook and only saw each other thrice over the next nine years. We always had a one-night stand kind of “reunion” each time we saw. One of these reunions led to Yetunde getting pregnant in 2014.

    The pregnancy came with serious issues for both our families. Yetunde’s family insisted we had to marry because it was taboo in their village to give birth outside wedlock. My own family said she was older and physically bigger than me, and that meant she’d control me in the house. In the end, Yetunde and I felt we still had feelings for each other, so we married.

    It’s safe to say both of us didn’t know what to expect in marriage. We didn’t even really know each other. We’d loved each other as kids and were attracted to each other sexually, but that was about it. Living together opened our eyes to the fact that it took more than childhood love and sex to keep a home.

    We fought over the smallest things. I remember how we kept malice with each other for three days because I farted in the sitting room, and it led to a huge fight. Parenting strained our relationship even more. I spent long hours at work, and Yetunde expected me to take over the baby’s needs once I returned because she’d done it all day. But I didn’t think it made sense for me to come home tired at night to start babysitting. 

    Yetunde resented me for that, and we fought endlessly. We also stopped having sex after our child was born. She just stopped letting me touch her. This was barely a year after marriage.

    So, I started cheating. I know I should’ve put in more effort to solve our issues, but I took the easy way out. It was just casual sex, honestly. There was this babe at work who I knew liked me. We got closer when Yetunde and I stopped being intimate, and things just got out of control. 

    Yetunde found out six months later after going through our chats. She threatened to leave, and I begged for weeks. She only agreed to forgive me if I tested for STDs. I did the test and came back clean, but she said we’d still have to abstain from sex for three months so she could confirm I didn’t have HIV.

    I was annoyed at that. It was like she thought I was a child who didn’t know how to protect himself. I still did the test again after three months, but I decided I wouldn’t approach her for sex again. If she really forgave me, she should also make the first move. She didn’t make any move. 

    I couldn’t cope, so I went back to having affairs. I think Yetunde knew, but she never confronted me again. We grew apart even more, and our conversations reduced to ordinary greetings or if she needed to ask me for something our child needed. I still sent her monthly allowances to care for the home as she wasn’t working. I wasn’t completely irresponsible.

    In 2017, I met the woman I’m currently married to — Comfort*. I initially intended to keep her as a girlfriend, but I fell in love with her and stopped seeing other women. Comfort didn’t know I was married.

    By now, I was tired of my marriage with Yetunde. I came up with every excuse possible to convince myself we weren’t meant to be together. I thought, if she hadn’t fallen pregnant, I wouldn’t even have had to marry her. Did I have to resign myself to a sexless, loveless marriage just because of one mistake?


    RELATED: I’m Asexual Or Just Not Attracted To My Husband


    I decided to put myself first, so I told Yetunde I wanted a divorce. Surprisingly, she didn’t argue. She just said she wouldn’t move out of the apartment, and I had to keep paying the rent. She also said she’d never give up custody of our child, which was more than fine with me.

    So, that same year, I married Comfort. I had to convince her we didn’t need a court wedding because I was still in the middle of divorce proceedings (which she didn’t know), and I heard I could face jail if I tried to remarry legally while still married. We even did the traditional marriage quietly because I didn’t want Yetunde to know and probably tell the court. My family knew about my issues with Yetunde, so it wasn’t difficult telling them of my choice to remarry and keep the whole thing quiet. 

    I only told Comfort after the court finalised the divorce in 2019. She was angry, but my family joined me to apologise to her, and all went well. I also tried to introduce her to my child, but Yetunde relocated out of the country with her. 

    I’m still shocked that she didn’t tell me beforehand. If I hadn’t texted her to inform her of my marriage and ask to see my child, she probably wouldn’t have told me they’d left. I mean, I still paid the child’s school fees for the previous term, so it wasn’t like I wasn’t doing my part. I wanted to drag the issue out, but I just told myself it was for my child’s benefit. 

    In my head, I was finally getting a new shot at happiness. I’d tried marriage, and it didn’t work out, but I had a second chance. I was also on civil terms with my ex and didn’t need to hide anything from Comfort again. I could now be happy without feeling guilty or thinking of another woman outside.

    And I was happy. Comfort even encouraged me to attend church more, and I gave my life to Christ in 2021. Since then, I’ve been serious with God and feel like a new person. But I’m now navigating a new kind of guilt: regret over divorcing Yetunde.

    I listened to a sermon in 2022 about how God hates divorce, and since then, I’ve been struggling with feeling like I made a grave mistake. The Bible says, “Whoever divorces his wife and remarries has committed adultery — except the wife was unfaithful”. Yetunde wasn’t unfaithful. She didn’t even do anything to me.

    No matter how I try to reason it in my head, I feel like I’m constantly living in sin by staying married to Comfort. It’s even affecting my walk with God. I feel like I call myself a Christian, but I’ll still go to hell because of this one mistake. I’ve never discussed this with Comfort.

    Some church elders I’ve spoken to about my concerns have suggested reconciling with Yetunde and probably letting Comfort go since we don’t have children together yet. But first, I don’t even know if Yetunde wants to come back. I know she isn’t married, but she might not want to have anything to do with me again. Second, what do I tell Comfort and our families?

    I wish I’d made better decisions and generally been a better person, but I can’t turn back the hands of time. I just know I need to make a final decision soon because I can’t continue living like this. Comfort already thinks I’m cheating because I’m constantly acting distant. Maybe I’ll gather the courage to beg Yetunde and hope she forgives me and returns. Or maybe I should just let Comfort go and live alone for the rest of my life. I don’t know.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: My Husband’s Family Has Attacked Me Spiritually for Years

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  • 10 Rules of the Talking Stage

    10 Rules of the Talking Stage

    The streets are crazy, so if you’re getting to know someone romantically, here are a couple rules you might want to follow.

    The do’s

    “Remember, you’re not exclusive.” – Martins

    You and your partner in talking might like each other a lot, but you need to remember that you’re still in the talking stage; nothing is set in stone, and you’re just getting to know each other. This means you can talk to as many people as you want.

    “Get to know each other.” – Obiageli

    The entire point of a talking stage is to learn more about each other, so actually do that. Talk to each other about the simple things — your likes, dislikes, hobbies — anything that won’t have them wondering how you haven’t spoken to a therapist or been declared clinically insane.

    “Remember that you can always run.” – Mariam

    If they’re unkind, homophobic, misogynistic, or just don’t have the same values as you do, pack your bag and run. It’s the talking stage, not prison. 

    READ: Z!’s Guide for Living Today

    “Remind them to give you space when you need it.” – Rhema

    It’s the talking stage, which means you need to spend some time with this person and get to know them. However, that doesn’t mean they can call you out of the blue whenever they want or demand things from you. They need to know if you have boundaries you do not want to be crossed.

    “Meet up” – Angel

    It might be tempting to spend half your time talking over the phone, but at some point, you’ll have to put the phone down and meet in person. This way, you know if they’re actually your type, and they match your vibe.

    [ad]

    The don’ts

    “Your family and friends don’t need to know them.” – Damian

    Sure, you can tell the people in your life about this person you’re talking to, but why would you want to formally introduce the person you’re in a talking stage with to the people that have known you for years? What title would you even introduce your talking stage with?

    “Don’t go second base.” – Somto

    A little peck here and there is cute, but no heavy over-the-clothes petting and no sex. It might cloud your judgement and have you feeling things you shouldn’t.

    “Don’t do pet names or nicknames.” – Damian

    If you can’t formally introduce them to anyone in your life, why should they give you nicknames and call you “baby” or “sweetheart” outside? If people ask why they’re being all sweet on you, what would you say?

    “Don’t force shit.” – Rue

    Don’t act out of character or do things you think they’ll like so they’ll make the relationship exclusive, and you can become a boyfriend or girlfriend.

    “Don’t be touchy.” – Ij

    Everybody should keep their hands to themselves. You don’t need to hold someone’s waist or touch their shoulder just because they’re getting to know you. That’s not how things work.

    ALSO READ: QUIZ: This Nollywood Quiz Knows What Type of Lover You Are

  • 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.

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

    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.

    [ad]

    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.

  • Zikoko’s Favourite Nigerian Celebrity Weddings of All Time

    Zikoko’s Favourite Nigerian Celebrity Weddings of All Time

    People find love, get engaged, and vow before God, family, and friends to stick with their partners until the end of their lives. It’s a big vow, so it makes sense that most people make a big show of it, and these Nigerian celebrities are no different.

    From Annie Idibia and Tuface’s destination wedding to Veekee James and Femi Atere’s 4-day celebrations, here are our favorite celebrations of love (in no particular order).

    Banky W and Adesua Etomi

    Photo credit: BellaNaija

    Shortly after their debut as an on-screen couple in Kemi Adetiba’s 2016 The Wedding Party, Banky, and Susu popped out with an engagement and introduction.

    The couple finally tied the knot in November 2017 and had everyone following their wedding hashtag, #Baad17, just to get a glimpse of the bride and groom in their gorgeous outfits on their special day.

    Made Kuti and Inedoye Onyenso

    Photo credit: Nairaland

    We were all minding our business on a hot Wednesday morning when Made Kuti, and Inedoye’s gorgeous faces filled our timelines. As though their combined beauty and love weren’t enough, the groom’s mum – Funke Kuti – and her friends decided to show up and show out and almost had half the internet crashing the event.

    Adekunle Gold and Simi

    Photo credit: BellaNaija

    After years of watching us ship the love of his life with Falz because of the small chemistry they shared, Adekunle Gold and Simi tied the knot in January 2022. It was an intimate ceremony, and they only shared a glimpse of their special day with us, but they looked incredibly in love and happy.

    RECOMMENDED: QUIZ: How Many Guests Will Attend Your Wedding?

    Veekee James and Femi Atere

    Photo credit: WithinNigeria

    Veekee James and Femi Atere found love and decided to paint Lagos and its inhabitants red. People keep shouting that it was a 4-day affair, but did they stop to consider that maybe THE couple didn’t want to squeeze all their ceremonies into one day? Perhaps they wanted the whole world to see their ten outfits over those four days and know that their love is not just an anyhow kind of love.

    Annie Idibia and Tuface

    Photo credit: Mandynews

    Before everyone was trending wedding hashtags and attending celebrity weddings via Instagram Live and Snapchat, we were attending Annie Idibia and Tuface’s wedding via television.

    In 2013, the long-term couple said their vows before friends, family, and their online in-laws at the Jumeirah beach resort in Dubai.

    Tee-Billz and Tiwa Savage

    Photo credit: LoveweddingsNG

    This couple may have called it quits, but their wedding would forever live rent-free in our heads. 

    A custom iPhone with the couple’s initials, Toolz DJing, a car gift from Don Jazzy, and doves being released after the vows. Tee-Billz and Tiwa Savage had the most exclusive fairytale destination wedding in 2014. If they could tell us who their planner was, that’d be great.

    Davido and Chioma 

    Photo credit: BellaNaijaWeddings

    We were promised an #Assurance2020 but got a #Chivido2024, and it couldn’t have been better. Davido and Chioma Rowland were traditionally married in a big AF wedding on June 25, 2024. There were so many people willing to celebrate the couple’s love that we’re low-key surprised the venue could take them all.

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

    Kemi Adetiba and Oscar Heman-Ackah

    Photo credit: Oscar Heman-Ackah via Instagram

    The king of boys popped out with her boo, Ghananian-Nigerian music executive, creative entrepreneur, and media solutionist Oscar Heman-Ackah, and got traditionally married in 2022. Half of Nollywood was in attendance at the ceremony, and it was a perfect blend of the couple’s multi-cultural backgrounds.

  • I’m a Middle Child, and I Absolutely Love My Life

    I’m a Middle Child, and I Absolutely Love My Life

    As an almost-middle child myself, I’m familiar with the popular sentiment that middle children are often ignored and tend to dislike their position in the family. That isn’t the case for Timilehin (26).

    He talks about how being a middle child has made his life easier and contributed to his being a well-adjusted adult.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image designed by Freepik

    The first time I realised people were supposed to have issues being middle children was at university.

    I was in a talking stage with this babe, and when the conversation moved to families and siblings, she began feeling sorry for me after I said I was the middle child. It was like, “Oh no. I can’t imagine how lonely that must’ve felt”. I didn’t want to piss her off or make the conversation awkward, so I just said “Yeah” and moved on. But I was confused as hell. What do being a middle child and loneliness have in common?

    I didn’t think about it again until a few months later. I was talking with a couple of my friends in the hostel about how much Nigerian parents can stress your life, and the conversation shifted to siblings. It turned out that some of my friends were also middle children and associated it with being a difficult experience. 

    I was more than a little surprised. I mean, we all agree that being the first or last born comes with challenges. As the first, you automatically become the third parent. And as the last, you sometimes turn to the chief errand goer. 

    But I didn’t know that middle children also battled loneliness because they didn’t get as much attention as the other kids and were often left alone to do their own things. I didn’t have that experience. In fact, I had an amazing life growing up. I still do.

    I grew up with four other siblings. As the third of five children, that effectively made me the middle child. You know how you have vivid memories as a child of rushing to bring out the soup from the freezer just before your parents came back because you forgot to do that earlier? That was never my problem. That responsibility typically fell to one of my two older siblings. Sure, I had chores and all. But my parents never really put me in “charge” of something. 

    I also never really felt lonely. I’m just two years older than my immediate younger sibling, and our closeness in age meant we automatically became best friends. My brother was—and still is—my partner in crime. My older siblings could do whatever they wanted. I had my brother, and that was fine by me. If I wasn’t hanging out with him, I was perfectly content to sit in silence or fight imaginary enemies with sticks.

    As an adult, I’m grateful I’m not in a position where my family expect so much from me. I’m 26, and our last born is 22. We’re technically in the same age range, so he’s more likely to call our older siblings for money before he even remembers me. 

    There’s also no black tax from my family because, again, my siblings are there. No one will disturb me to get married for at least seven years or until my siblings get married. Chores? Nope. I don’t live with my parents; only the lastborn does. I’m older than him, so I still get to send him on errands whenever I’m home.

    Another thing I absolutely love about being the middle child is the absence of pressure. My oldest sibling just switched to tech after spending several years studying medicine simply because my parents decided they wanted to be called “daddy doctor” and “mummy doctor”. 

    My second older sibling had to study law. She’s practising now, but I don’t think she ever really decided it was what she wanted. No one batted an eyelid when I chose human resources. However, that could be because they were relieved I finally got uni admission after waiting for two years. 

    That’s another thing — my parents didn’t stress that I failed JAMB twice. My big sister still says she can’t believe they didn’t fuss too much after I failed. Maybe they just didn’t care, or they’d grown enough to realise that flogging children into submission didn’t do much. Whichever way, I’m just glad I had space to figure out what I wanted to do.

    I think space and pressure from home are two factors that can determine just how difficult navigating adulting can be. I have friends who hate their jobs but can’t leave because they have responsibilities at home and need to earn money. I quit two toxic jobs without backup plans just because I could. I know I don’t have to impress anybody, I have space to try things, and there’s no pressure to figure things out immediately. If bad turns to worse, I can always run back to my siblings or parents. My life is the definition of a “well-adjusted adult”. 

    I won’t lie; it’s a stress-free way to live. I love my life, and I wouldn’t change a thing.


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

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  • The #NairaLife of a Corps Member Who’s Stripping to Pay Off Her Debt

    The #NairaLife of a Corps Member Who’s Stripping to Pay Off Her Debt

    Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.


    Nairalife #278 bio

    What’s your earliest memory of money?

    My parents gave me ₦10 daily for snacks in primary school, and I spent it on those frozen powdered drinks sold as “ice cream”. ₦5 could get five of those, and I’d spend the balance on whatever. Life was good.

    How good?

    Good enough to take food to school and still have money to spend on whatever I wanted. My parents were civil servants, and sometimes, my dad would drive me to school. We were the average middle-class family. But then, my parents separated when I was in Primary 1, and money became a problem. 

    How so?

    My mum, siblings and I had to leave our three-bedroom house and move in with a family friend until my mum could afford a one-room apartment. We even moved in when it was practically empty — we had just three plastic chairs.

    My mum became the sole provider. I went from being the student with money to spend during lunch break to being one of the students who was sent home for not paying school fees. It was a harsh transition that lasted about three years before my parents got back together. 

    They stayed together for a year and separated again — for good this time — when I was in Primary 5. This was in 2008.

    What did this mean to you?

    It affected me more than it did the first time. I must’ve been around six when we had to leave the first time, and I don’t remember feeling sad that my dad wasn’t around. But by the final separation, I could see just how much it affected my mum financially. 

    I was just about to enter secondary school, and she’d always talk about trying to raise money for my fees. At the end of the day, she had to convince my principal to waive some extra charges so I could resume school after I’d spent a few weeks at home. 

    Then my mum got laid off from work when I was in JSS 2 and started selling raw grains to make money. I helped her anytime I was home from school. That was the first thing I did to earn money.

    Did your mum pay you?

    Yes. People in our area couldn’t afford to buy in bulk, so she’d open a bag of grains and ask me to divide them into smaller portions and tie them in smaller bags. She paid ₦100 for every bag I tied, and I could tie two to three bags in a day. 

    I did that on and off during the weekends. In SS 2, I started selling chocolates to my classmates. I’d moved in with a family friend to reduce the financial burden on my mum, and I decided I needed to make extra money to cover transportation and other things I needed at school. 

    My mum was still paying for my school fees and sending a ₦2k – ₦3k monthly allowance, but the extra money from the chocolates came in handy for additional expenses. 

    What kind of profit did you make?

    A pack of 80 pieces cost ₦300, and transportation to and fro the market cost ₦100. I sold each candy at ₦10, making ₦400 in profit after removing the cost of buying and transportation. 

    I sold the chocolates until I left secondary school in 2014. I didn’t get admission into university until 2018. I first took on a ₦14k/month waitress job and then left to work as a receptionist at a photo studio for ₦15k/month. 

    After a few months, my mum had an accident, and I had to stay home to take care of her. It was while I was at home that I started writing for money in 2016.

    How did you start writing?

    I read a lot and often wrote to replicate what I read. I wrote a lot about everything going on in my family. I posted some of these stories on Nairaland and met the first person who paid me to write. She paid me ₦1k for a 1000-word lifestyle article. She liked it and gave me three more writing gigs. I made ₦4500 in total from her.

    I applied for more writing gigs on Nairaland and gradually got clients. I could write up to three articles weekly and earn between ₦6k – ₦10k. That became my primary source of income till I finally got into uni in 2018.

    Did you continue the writing gigs in uni?

    Managing the gigs and school work was difficult, especially because I used my phone to write. Since I didn’t have a laptop, I’d first write out the articles on paper before typing them into my phone. It was too stressful, so I just stopped looking for gigs.

    Around the same time, I saw an advert for a modelling audition at school and decided to apply. I passed the audition and got cast to walk for a fashion show for free. I was happy to do it for the experience. The agency offered to sign me on, and I paid ₦5k to register as one of their models.

    How does modelling for an agency work?

    A modelling agency should train their models, send them out for gigs and then handle payment. Unfortunately for me, my agency only took their models to parties and clubs to meet men. 

    The final straw was when they made me do a nude photoshoot. I wasn’t comfortable with my nude pictures being out for anyone to see, so I quit. I was with them for only five months.

    Did you try to get gigs on your own?

    I went for multiple auditions, but I’m short, and most of the casting directors said they wanted someone 5’9” and above. 

    I didn’t get another gig until 2019 when I got paid ₦10k to walk the runway for a one-day show. The fashion house owner saw one of my online practice videos and liked it.

    That show helped me meet other people in the industry and build a network. I started getting small modelling gigs once or twice a month. ₦7k for a photoshoot here and ₦5k to work with a make-up artist there. 

    I spent most of what I made on transportation. In modelling, you’re always on the move for one rehearsal, fitting or the like, and that took a lot of my money. When I wasn’t working on paid gigs, I worked on unpaid collaborations to build my portfolio. Honestly, it was just something I enjoyed doing, so I didn’t mind that I wasn’t making much from it.

    But how were you surviving?

    I picked up stage decoration — mostly from watching others do it — and did the odd decoration gig for faculty and departmental functions when I wasn’t modelling. That usually brought in ₦10k – ₦15k per gig, but it wasn’t regular. I hardly got any allowance from home.  

    In 2021, another modelling agency signed me. I found them on Instagram and they looked legit. I paid ₦15k to register, but I left after six months.

    Why?

    The gigs weren’t coming. None of the new models got gigs within that period, and I couldn’t even take on outside jobs. At that point, I decided to give modelling a break.

    I took up a part-time job as an assistant to someone who produced cosmetics. It was just twice a week and paid ₦20k/month. It was the highest I’d ever made up to that point, and it helped that it didn’t interfere with school. I worked there for seven months and left when I was about to enter my final year because I needed to go for a three-month teaching practice internship.

    Did you get paid for this internship?

    Nope. I survived by taking random modelling and movie extra gigs on the weekends. I even got a small supporting role on a movie set once and got paid ₦70k after filming.

    The school I interned at did try to retain me and offered ₦20k/month, but I didn’t take it. Around that time, I participated in a beauty contest/reality show situation that turned my life upside down.

    I’m listening

    I honestly don’t know why I keep falling for sham agencies, but I fell for this one. It was a pageant that was supposed to pay the winner ₦100k. I paid ₦5k for the application form, and the organisers housed me and the other contestants. Then, they began hounding us for votes.

    This was how votes worked: You had to get people to “buy” votes for you by paying the organisers. Each vote cost ₦100, and most contestants bought their own votes just to get ahead.

    I had to join them to buy votes after the organisers placed me in the “bottom five” group twice in a row. I contacted a few people for money but got no help, so I borrowed ₦10k from a loan app to buy my votes.

    Did that help?

    It kept me in the house until the main event. But then, the organisers came again and told us to start selling tickets for it, and I just gave up. 

    But I still had to repay the loan, and with interest, it came to about ₦13500. I started getting multiple calls from the loan guys after the pay-back date elapsed, and I panicked and took another loan from a different app to pay them. That’s how my loan cycle started in 2022.

    I didn’t have a strong source of income, so it was easy to fall back on more apps to repay my debt. Plus, the interests were always so much. I’d borrow ₦18k and have to pay back ₦27k. Then I’d borrow ₦27k and have to pay ₦35k. 

    My debt had grown to ₦78k when I saw a WhatsApp BC about an opening for bikini girls for a pool party.

    Bikini girls?

    Dancers. We just had to dance in bikinis. The pay was ₦6k for a one-day event. I’d never worn a bikini in public before, but I was desperate for money. So, I applied and got the gig. I danced and got paid, but the organiser complained I was too self-conscious and stiff.

    A week later, I got another bikini dancing gig for two weekends. That one paid ₦12k in total. I got another gig at a lounge that paid ₦5k to dance every Friday. I noticed the other girls got tips when they danced close to the men. So, I did the same thing and made ₦15k in tips on the first day.

    I danced for a month and made enough money to clear my ₦78k debt. There was no reason for me to take the gigs anymore, so I left most of the WhatsApp groups that posted those jobs. But two weeks later, I realised I was pregnant. I couldn’t tell anyone, and I couldn’t keep it either, so I Googled options for an abortion. I found medication online that cost ₦38k. I didn’t have money, so I returned to the loan apps. I borrowed ₦45k and bought the drugs. While waiting for the drugs to be delivered to me, I had a miscarriage.

    Damn

    I couldn’t get a refund, and I had a debt of ₦70k — the loan amount + interest — to clear. The fastest way I knew to make money was to return to dancing, so I did that. 

    I found a club that hired strippers on a tip-sharing basis — they took 40% of every tip the dancers made. I worked there for a week and made ₦30k. I left because they didn’t allow dancers to wear masks, and I wasn’t comfortable.

    The next gig I found only required me to strip dance at a lounge on Fridays and get paid ₦15k. Thankfully, I was allowed to wear a mask. I sometimes had sex with male customers to get extra tips — usually up to ₦15k/week. It weighed a lot on my conscience, so I only had the courage to work once every two weeks. That worked for a while, and I was able to reduce my dependence on loans. 

    But then, I hit a setback in 2023.

    What happened?

    I lost over ₦200k to a fake Instagram vendor. I was trying to buy a phone, and the vendor looked legit. I borrowed the money from several loan apps. But the vendor took my money and blocked me. Thinking about it now, it was a very unwise decision.

    I began another round of borrowing to repay the different apps. But again, their interest rates were high, and within three months, my debt had grown to ₦700k.

    Yikes. What was the plan to settle that?

    I had to start stripping every weekend to meet up. Sometimes, I dance twice weekly, depending on how often the gigs come. 

    I graduated from university in 2023 and am currently serving, but I still have debt, so I strip and dance. I do any job I can find at clubs: bikini dancing, bottle service and stripping. I make at least ₦50k weekly.

    How much do you currently owe?

    ₦215k. I created a list with all the apps I owed and gradually paid them off according to who I first borrowed from to limit the multiple calls and reminders to pay. They even called my mum and sister multiple times to threaten them. But I was determined not to borrow from more apps to pay back my debts, so it helped me progress. I’m not putting myself under any pressure to pay anymore. When I have, I pay.

    You mentioned you’re currently serving. The extra income must be welcome

    It is. I started NYSC in February, and my PPA pays ₦30k/month. Then there’s the ₦33k NYSC stipend. However, I spend ₦30k monthly transporting to and from my PPA, where I work as a front desk officer. So, it’s only the ₦33k stipend I can say is mine. I also rented a ₦300k/year apartment in March, so saving for rent takes part of it.

    Can you break down these expenses into a typical month?

    Nairalife #278 monthly expenses

    Thankfully, I’m the youngest in my family, so there’s no black tax. I also don’t have a “flex” budget because I know I’ve been super irresponsible with money in the past, and I’m just trying to move past my mistakes. 

    My experiences have made me a lot wiser. For instance, I currently have ₦120k saved up for rent that’s due next year. My relationship with money isn’t healthy yet, but I’m on the right path.

    How do you juggle a 9-5 with the many gigs you do?

    There are days when I go to the lounge to dance straight from my PPA and then go from there back to work the next day. That’s after dancing in heels for hours. But I don’t have a choice. I have to dance so I can pay off my debts.

    Apart from the long hours, stripping can also be very demeaning. It’s a mental struggle. I can be dancing on my own and someone would come and try to pull off my lingerie or touch me. Some days, I finish working and go back home to cry. Like, this isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing.

    I make sure to always wear masks as a way to preserve the little dignity I have left. I overhear snide remarks from male customers all the time. Stuff like, “This one is only good for sex”. It’s crazy how people judge you for the same things they’re there for, but this is Nigeria.

    Have you considered what the next few years of your life might look like?

    I’m actively planning for my future. I hope to transition into tech after NYSC, and I’m taking courses in preparation. One is a virtual assistant course, and the other is about using AI to write. Both courses cost me ₦57k, but I see it as investing in my future.

    How much do you think you’ll earn monthly from these skills?

    ₦500k/monthly would be a good starting point. The aim is to earn in dollars.

    Rooting for you. Do you have financial regrets? Apart from the loans

    I wish I’d reached out to family and friends when I first got into the loan cycle. My parents don’t support me anymore, but I could’ve reached out to my siblings and friends for help with my debt rather than going at it alone. 

    It would’ve been quite embarrassing, but at least, I wouldn’t have gotten into as much debt to resort to everything I’m doing now to get out of it.

    How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1 – 10?

    5. It’d be higher when I start earning money in a manner I consider dignified.


    If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

    Subscribe to the newsletter here.

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  • 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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  • Love Life: We Struggled After He Survived a Terrible Accident

    Love Life: We Struggled After He Survived a Terrible Accident

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Adeolu: I met her at a friend’s place in January 2016. I liked what she wore. Just jeans and a top, but her clothes were fresh. I remember thinking, “This girl is so fresh”. She was one of the first people I saw with natural unpermed hair then, before it became a thing.

    Jane: Our friend introduced us and said we would make a “good pair”. Then she left us together in her sitting room. We chatted for some time, and it was nice. Nothing too deep. We chatted with other people too.

    When did you realise you liked each other?

    Adeolu: We ran into each other at the mall the next day, and we were happy to see each other. As soon as I saw her face, I knew I liked her and would love her to be my girlfriend. But in my head, I was so sure she was taken.

    Jane: We hugged and parted ways. A few minutes later, he messaged me on Instagram, and we started chatting consistently from then. After a couple of days of chatting, I started to like him. He was funny. He was always making jokes, but sweet ones that made me feel soft inside.

    How did you end up dating?

    Adeolu: In between chats, we kept meeting at people’s houses, so we hung out a lot. During one of these hangouts, I asked her out, but she was shy because people were there.

    Jane: We were watching a movie outside with someone’s projector, and this guy just casually asked me out. It’s not like he shouted it, but almost everyone heard and turned to us. 

    I told him yes, but I was a little annoyed about the scene.

    Did you feel pressured to say yes because he asked in public?

    Jane: I wanted to say yes, but it was also pressuring to have to decide in front of our friends.

    Adeolu: I just had to ask her there and then. It came to my mind, and I didn’t want to chicken out.

    Jane: We went on our first date the next weekend, and I realised I really really liked him. We had almost all the same interests. We liked the same kind of movies, and we both loved anime. We both wanted to code too. 

    I almost thought he was just trying to get me to like him, but the more we talked, the more I knew he was actually interested in these things. We learnt coding together for months, and it helped us bond. It felt like we were soulmates.

    So you’ve been dating for eight years?

    Adeolu: Yes. But we broke up for almost a year in 2019, after I was involved in a car accident. I was in the hospital for about a month, and when I got out, I had to break up with her.

    Jane: That’s the summarised version.

    He and his friends had been drinking when they got into a car back home from the club in the middle of the night and crashed. It was terrible. It’s a miracle any of them survived. But the driver died.

    Adeolu: I was in pain and grief for a long time.

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

    I’m so sorry. How did this lead to a break up?

    Adeolu: Jane was by my side throughout the hospital period. We’d been dating for about three years then. But I wasn’t happy she got to see me at my worst. 

    My legs had terrible injuries, and the doctors were scared they’d have to amputate. They eventually didn’t, but it was an emotionally draining period for me even before I found out my guy was dead.

    Jane: I did my best to support him. But I was scared to death and spent most of the time crying. My parents and siblings were worried for me. He felt bad about that and would beg me to just go home.

    Adeolu: I was also concerned about how it was affecting her work because she was almost always with me at the hospital. When I could finally go home, I waited for her to go home too, then texted her that I wanted us to break up.

    How did you take it, Jane?

    Jane: I was so angry. 

    I knew he was hurting, but I also felt he didn’t care about my own feelings. I was in love with him and wanted to see him get well. I called and called him, but he didn’t pick up, so I went to his house a couple of times, and he refused to see me. 

    Ah, come and see heartbreak. I cried o.

    Adeolu: I was just in a low place and needed some time to heal on my own. I also believed I was sparing her the heartache of sticking with someone who was going through a lot. 

    It took me months to learn to walk again, and I was in constant pain. I was also ashamed I was involved in such a terrible decision that cost a life and my parents considerable amounts of money.

    How did you get past this stage?

    Jane: After about seven months, I got a call from his mum that I should come and see him and talk to him. She was concerned that he was sinking into depression and hoped I could help draw him out. 

    I was hesitant, but I went to see him.

    Adeolu: I was ashamed to see her because I was out of shape and felt weak. So I acted immaturely. I wouldn’t talk to her. 

    But she helped because seeing her made me want to do better about my appearance. I also started looking for a new job because my old one let me go after my continued inactivity. Four months later, I called her and apologised.

    Jane: I accepted his apology, but I was in a talking stage with another guy. Even though I still loved Deolu, my friends had talked harshly to me about putting my life on hold for him.

    While things moved forward with this new guy, Deolu and I tried to establish a friendship. I kept up with his progress and was happy to see him flourishing.

    Things didn’t work out with the new guy?

    Jane: He was jealous of the fact that I was still tight with my ex. He got really insecure about it, and I had to choose between them. It was a tough choice, but I chose Deolu. My best friend was so upset.

    The day after we broke up, Deolu was at my place, and we spent the whole day making out.

    Deolu: We’d grown too attached. I couldn’t imagine my life with anyone else at that point. I wanted her to break up with the guy so bad I tried everything.

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    What did you do?

    Deolu: Nothing bad. 

    I’d just call and text her a lot. And sometimes, when all three of us were at an event, I’d say things only Jane would get. It always triggered him, but Jane was so oblivious.

    Jane: The way he’s always boasting about this thing. You need to know it’s not a flex.

    Deolu: Anyway, we got back together that night. And I was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. We’ve been together since, and we moved in together last year.

    Any chance you’ll get married soon?

    Deolu: Yes, of course. I love her.

    Jane: We talk about the future all the time. We’re not engaged yet, but we’re thinking of doing it this year. We have money goals we want to hit first.

    Deolu: We’re very close to hitting them.

    I like that you’re taking the engagement decision together 

    Jane: He still has to figure out how to surprise me when he proposes, but yeah, we’ve both agreed on when would be a good time to take that next step.

    Deolu: The timing shouldn’t be something one person just decides. Marriage is a partnership, after all.

    True. What was your first major fight about?

    Jane: When I discovered he was hooked on prescription drugs. We’re still working through it now.

    Deolu: I grew to rely on them painkillers after the accident. At first, I needed them to function because the pain was truly on bearable. But then, I started using them just in case, even when I wasn’t in pain. They made me feel numb to the overwhelming grief and shame I had at the time.

    Jane: When we got back together, I didn’t notice anything at first, until the mood swings came. He’d go from extremely happy and energetic to brooding and touchy in seconds. It was scary. 

    I found his prescription drugs stash when I spent the night at his place once, and we had a huge fight about it.

    That does sound scary

    Jane: And I didn’t handle it well. 

    My first instinct was to report him to his doctor so they cancel the prescription, or to his sisters to stage an intervention. But I was scared I’d only expose him to more shame, so we tried to work through it together. I don’t think I’d do that again.

    Deolu: We struggled and fought a lot after she found out.

    Mostly, I was ashamed and really wanted us to get back to that happiness we found after we got back together. A female friend of mine suggested therapy, and that helped.

    Jane: We’ve been able to help him taper off them slowly, but the early withdrawal period was crazy. I wanted to break up with him again a thousand times. This love thing, ehn? Sometimes, it meant forcing myself to create boundaries, dating and supporting him from afar. 

    Our therapist instructed me that boundaries would help him realise he needs to do better if he wanted the same level of trust he once had from me.

    Just how crazy was the withdrawal period?

    Deolu: I kept going on and off. And then we’d had to start the whole process again. I could tell this really annoyed her.

    Jane: This happened twice in 2021. Coupled with the stress of the pandemic, it was a lot.

    Deolu: I couldn’t sleep. I would feel body pains that I wasn’t completely sure was there. I was angry all the time, but I’d try really hard not to express my anger to her, or let it affect work.

    Jane: He’d vomit sometimes. I remember his friends making jokes about him being pregnant. They didn’t know what we were battling. I saw he was struggling yet again, and it was heartbreaking to watch.

    But you moved in together last year, so things are much better now?

    Jane: Much much better. 

    Deolu: Midway into 2022, things normalised. I was off drugs completely and was finally feeling like myself again. We didn’t do a lot of going out in 2021 because of everything, so I made it my business to take her out and kind of thank her for being there for me.

    Jane: Yeah, we went on a lot of dates in 2022. 

    It felt like we could finally breathe and be young lovers for once. We were still sensitive around each other for a while, always asking the other how we felt or if something we wanted to do was okay. I didn’t want to stress him too much because of the long healing period he’d had to go through, and he seemed to feel like he owed me because I stuck around. 

    Till today, we’re still so gentle with each other and I think that’s the best gift we’ve gotten out of that journey.

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

    Deolu: 10.

    Jane: 9. I want him to recover from the painkiller use fully.

    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 MATCHMAKING STORY HERE: Love Life: I Met Him Through a Radio Show as a 40+ Single Mum

  • I Idolised a Nigerian Politician and Almost Lost Myself

    I Idolised a Nigerian Politician and Almost Lost Myself

    I’d just published this story about an apprenticeship gone wrong when Tunrayo* reached out, saying she’d had a similar experience with a Nigerian politician who’d been her role model since she was 9.

    She talks about finally getting the opportunity to work with this politician, abandoning her family, enduring abuse, and almost losing her identity and life to her work. 

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image designed by Freepik

    I became fascinated with a particular Nigerian politician at 9 years old. Fascination doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was obsessed. I even had pictures of the woman in my room. 

    Let me tell you how it started. I decided I wanted to be a journalist pretty early in life. I loved watching the news and following political stories. Though a businessman, my dad knew a lot about the political happenings in my home state. That’s how I got to know this politician. Biodun* was a prominent political figure in my state at a time when it was almost impossible to see women at the forefront of politics. She was 20 years older, but I wanted to be like her.

    I admired and wanted to be like Biodun so much I’d write short notes about my admiration and paste them on the noticeboard at the mosque. Biodun was partly the reason I didn’t study in the UK. I graduated from secondary school around 2010 and had already secured admission to the UK — not for journalism, though. My dad thought studying law was better. 

    Just before I was meant to travel, my dad changed his mind and decided I’d better go to school in Nigeria instead. His reason? Biodun also studied in the UK and was a chain smoker. He knew how much I idolised her and feared I was ready to imitate this woman in everything, including smoking. He was right because I did get into smoking years later because of her, but we’ll get to that.

    Eventually, I got admitted to study law at one of the universities in my state. Ironically, that brought me closer to Biodun — it was the same state she worked in. By then, my obsession had grown to commenting on all her social media posts and fighting everyone with anything negative to say in the comments. I followed every single thing she did. I started calling myself a “Biodunist” and made her picture my wallpaper on everything I owned. She was also my display picture on all my social media accounts — the love was that deep. 

    It was politics that finally brought me the opportunity to meet her. My penchant for writing led me to work for several media houses as a student, and I regularly wrote articles criticising the state government in power. This made me well-known to some members of the opposing political party in the state, and I became friends with many of them. I also became active in student union politics and championed several causes to ensure female involvement in school politics. 

    In 2014, I organised a female conference and magazine launch to highlight women doing great work in their fields. Of course, Biodun had to be the face of the magazine. I repeatedly sent several invitations to her via Facebook, but I didn’t get any headway until someone I knew from my political activities gave me her contact. Surprisingly, Biodun responded, and we started chatting on BlackBerry Messenger.

    I couldn’t believe my luck. It was my chance to impress her, and I tried my hardest. She loves rap music — BBM had a thing where you could see what people were listening to, so I started listening to Nicki Minaj and Drake because she did, too. One time, we were chatting about Game of Thrones during exam season, and I’d literally leave my books to watch new episodes so that I could respond if she talked about the series.

    Biodun wasn’t in office at this point, but she planned to run again in 2015, and I somehow became involved in her campaign. She knew I was her staunch supporter and that I knew my way around politics. So, she sent me a data modem and tasked me with creating social media accounts for her campaign. 

    I should note that we hadn’t met at this point, and I wasn’t being paid, but it felt like I was part of something great. I bragged about my work with her to everyone who cared to listen. I went for Hajj that year, and instead of praying for myself or my family, I stood in front of the Kabba praying for Biodun to win the election. I cried like a baby when she lost the party’s primary elections.

    Remember that conference I organised? She didn’t come, even though she promised she would. She sent a representative instead, but I couldn’t stay angry with her for long. Especially since she came through for me some months later when I got into trouble with the police because of my outside-school political activities. She promised to send lawyers if I wasn’t released. It didn’t get to that, but I took that assurance as her reciprocating my love for her. And my loyalty tripled.

    We still kept in touch when I went on to law school. She’d always tell me how stressful work was for her since she didn’t have a personal assistant, and I’d respond by saying I wished I was there to help her. I moved into her house immediately after my final exams in 2017 and resumed work unofficially that same night. I say “unofficially” because no one gave me an appointment letter. I was supposed to go home — my mum had even booked a flight for me, but I refused to leave her side.

    Biodun was planning to run for governor in 2023, and I was tasked with building a roadmap for her to get there through humanitarian initiatives, charity, and the like. That became my life’s work. In my head, I was going to help make a difference in the state.

    My daily schedule involved waking up around 11 a.m., going to Biodun’s study, and working with her until 3 a.m. I lived in the same room with her maid and slept on a bunk bed. They also had a dog in the maid’s room who peed everywhere, which meant I couldn’t observe my daily prayers regularly. 

    I ate once a day in Biodun’s house — only breakfast, and that was typically bread and eggs. I rarely ate more than once a day, and that happens if the maid brings food to her study and Biodun tells me to come and eat. That wasn’t often because she did a lot of diet fasting. I also wasn’t being paid, so I sometimes called home for money so I could buy food. Looking back at it now, it was a far cry from my privileged background, but I didn’t see it at the time. I was working with my idol, and that was all that mattered. 

    It also didn’t matter that I took monthly flights with my own money during NYSC year for monthly clearance just so I could keep living with Biodun even though I was posted to a different state. 

    Our schedule got a lot tighter in 2018 because of the preparations for the general elections the following year. Biodun wasn’t contesting, but she needed to ingratiate herself with the party, and she handled many campaign efforts and empowerment projects in our state on behalf of the presidential candidate.

    We flew together everywhere. I was always in the car with her, never more than a few feet away. No jokes; I followed her into the toilet several times and even helped her dress up. I was the one carrying campaign money and following her up and down. People began calling me her PA, and it thrilled me.

    If you know anything about politics in Nigeria, you know there’s never a shortage of enemies. Biodun’s house was always full, with different people going in and out. That crowd got bigger with the campaigns, and we began killing a cow daily to cook for people. I was the one handling money, and sometimes, when she directed me to give someone money to buy something, I’d naively exclaim that the item shouldn’t cost that much. That brought me a lot of enemies. 

    There was also a lot of backbiting and passive-aggressiveness going around, and I soon started feeling unsafe. I had to bring some friends to come live with me because I worried about even eating food at the house. I’m honestly not sure if I was attacked because I was found unconscious one day with my three cats dead beside me and three random scars on my back. This was just before the elections in 2019, and I’d briefly returned to my family home. I was hospitalised for a week, and after I was discharged, I still returned to Biodun’s house despite pushback from my family.

    2019 was also the year my eyes started to “clear”. Biodun landed a ministerial appointment and got an actual PA. I didn’t mind it because I thought there was a way personal assistants were supposed to dress or look, and I didn’t fit that position. Where did I even want to see money to buy good clothes? I was literally dressing like a maid back then. But that wasn’t the only thing that changed. 

    I’d always known Biodun had temper issues — she was known for screaming at people and throwing objects, but I always knew to avoid her when she was in a mood, so I was hardly the focus of her outbursts. But the night before a dinner to celebrate her appointment, she called me a stupid person and threw a remote at me because I couldn’t find golden spoons to rent for the dinner.


    ALSO READ: Nigerian Women Talk About Navigating Harassment in “Safe” Spaces


    We also went from working closely together to hardly speaking to each other. We were still living in the same house, but there was now a PA and several DSS officers around her and I couldn’t just approach her.

    Those first few weeks after her appointment, I felt like I was just floating around—going to the office and returning to the house with no sense of direction. After a while, I was officially given a title as research and policy assistant and a ₦150k salary, but I didn’t feel like part of the team. 

    I’d thought the ministerial position would provide an opportunity to work on the projects Biodun and I had discussed as her roadmap to governorship, but she was no longer interested. We’d planned to start a recycling project, but that got abandoned. She’d also placed someone on a scholarship but suddenly stopped paying the fees and ignored prompts about it. 

    Around the same time, she bought aso-ebi for everyone in the office for someone’s wedding. People would reach out for help, and we’d ignore them, but if the person died, we’d send cows and visit for optics. I didn’t recognise who she’d become, and I felt betrayed. What happened to the visions and the people we used to go see back to back during the campaigns?

    It suddenly became like I didn’t know how to do anything anymore. Biodun would scream at me and insult me in full view of everyone for the slightest thing. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house or office without permission. One time, I went to the mosque, and when she didn’t see me in my seat, it became an issue. I was also working long hours. I had to get to the office before 9 a.m. and only leave after she had left. Sometimes, I’d return home by 9 p.m. only to continue working till well past midnight. 

    The office politics was even worse. People who work in government offices have the opportunity to go on training programs with an estacode allowance (or travel allowance) to cover any expenses. Biodun’s chief of staff made sure he was the only one who went for those programs. He actually didn’t even go for most of them; it was the allowance he wanted. 

    In 2020, I summoned the courage to leave Biodun’s house. I rented an apartment but had to lie to her that it was my friend’s place, and I just wanted to visit her during the weekends. That was how I packed my things small small till I moved into that apartment. 

    Moving out was a lifesaver. I really began to see how I’d grown into a shadow of myself. I could cook and eat without worrying about going out to buy food and having to explain where I went. I should mention that my mum had been worried about me for a long time. My dad had passed away at this point, and she expected me to return home to manage his business, but I couldn’t even visit. I was also constantly taking money from my trust to survive. She didn’t understand why I just couldn’t leave.

    The final push I needed to leave came during the EndSARS protests. I wasn’t allowed to join because I worked for the ruling government, but it was a cause that affected me. My younger brother was a victim of these SARS officers, and it was personal to me. So, I’d sneak out of the office to attend protests. I could do that because the presidency had directed most officials to return to their states to try to diffuse the tension. 

    On social media, Biodun formed solidarity with the youths, even helping project the #5for5 demands. But on a WhatsApp group with other party members, she was inciting people to throw curses on the youths for protesting and claiming a political opponent sponsored them. I was appalled by it all and even got into a public argument about it on the WhatsApp group until some people reached me privately and called me to order. I was so disappointed and ashamed. This wasn’t the Biodun I knew and admired. 

    The presidency also called for stakeholders to present reports about the protests, and I attended one to get pointers on how to prepare Biodun’s report. You won’t believe no one talked about the lives lost at the Lekki toll gate or the damaged properties. The “stakeholders” were rather discussing contract approvals. 

    I think that was the point I became disillusioned with the whole thing and decided I was leaving for good. I did leave sometime later during a meeting with Biodun and some other staff. They were complaining about something I supposedly did wrong, and I just stood up, plugged in my headphones and walked out.

    Four years later, I’m still glad I left when I did. I can finally breathe. Since then, I’ve grown in the political space and have done important work that I care about. I also manage my dad’s business now.

    I can make friends with whomever I want. I couldn’t do this while working with Biodun because I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone connected with other politicians. She also made me write damaging and insulting articles about other people, and I regret being used to do so much of her dirty work, but I’m moving on from that. 

    Most importantly, I’ve grown, and I now know my worth. I wasted so many years of my life following someone mindlessly, but I know better now, and no one can make me go through that again. I don’t have any political leader because I can’t do that running up and down for someone else anymore. I’m grateful for my family and appreciate how much they stood by me while I figured things out. I’m in a better place now, and my experience has taught me to treat people with respect. I know how it feels to be treated like shit, and I have a responsibility to make sure I don’t pass that on. 

    For every young person aspiring to get into politics, it’s important to develop yourself first before putting yourself under someone else because reaching your full potential will be difficult that way. Also, don’t trust any politician. They change.


    *Names have been changed for anonymity.


    NEXT READ: The #NairaLife of an Apprentice Who Wants Out of the System

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  • Love Life: I Met Him Through a Radio Show as a 40+ Single Mum

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

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Nnamdi: We met after we got matched on a night-time radio show last year. I was single and searching, so possibly as a prank, one of my mates called in with my profile and then reached out to me when they found a match. 

    I was just laughing, but I decided to give it a try because I had nothing to lose. I reached out to her through the contact the radio station shared, and because she seemed open, we met at a restaurant close to her place. It was nice, she looked so good, and I thought I got lucky. I had this preconceived notion that there was no way I’d meet a good-looking person through a radio show, yet there I was.

    Favour: I wasn’t necessarily searching at the time. I sent in my profile just for fun. I had this friend who was married but used to send her profile all the time. I’d done it once some months before that, but I chickened out of meeting with the guy they matched me with. 

    This time around, I thought, “What the heck?” But the same way he assumed any woman who’d be on such a show wouldn’t be attractive is the same way I thought any guy on it would be over-desperate. I didn’t get any desperate vibes from him. If anything, he seemed noncommittal.

    What did you talk about during this first meeting?

    Favour: Our work, careers, interests, why we were single at over 40. 

    After we’d spoken for a while, and I’d decided he was a cool guy, I told him I had an 11-year-old son from a failed marriage. He didn’t flinch. He just asked if he could see his picture and if I was comfortable talking about the marriage and why it failed. I enjoyed his maturity — not all 40+ men are mature — and I thought, “I’d love for us to be friends.” He didn’t really seem interested in a serious relationship, and I wasn’t even sure I was ready to take risks with love again.

    Nnamdi: I told her I’d never been married at all, and she said that was a major red flag. But we laughed about it. In the end, it all came down to neither of us believing anything real could come out of being matchmade on radio.

    Why did you never marry?

    Nnamdi: Japa happened. 

    I had a steady girlfriend then I moved to the US in 2005, when you could still get chosen for a visa through draws. I got there and decided to stay longer, with the hopes of getting a green card. She decided she couldn’t wait any longer after the first two years. I ended up staying for 11 more years. The whole time, I found it extremely hard to date there.

    Favour: I’m sure he gave off this playboy energy. If you don’t get to know him well enough, you’d think he was an unserious person. He’s not, though, just laidback.

    Nnamdi: Tell them.

    I returned to Nigeria in 2018 to set up my business and ended up having my head buried in work for the next couple of years. The girls I dated thought I was too busy or didn’t prioritise them enough. That’s why when Twitter boys say women only want money or “just buy her everything she wants and she’ll stay,” I wonder what they mean. That’s never been my experience. They definitely want your love and attention too.

    So that’s how I found myself single and on a radio dating show at 45 years of age.

    Wild. Favour, wanna talk about why your marriage failed?

    Favour: Oh, he was abusive. He’d beat me then beg and gaslight. I completely bought into it until my eyes opened, and I got myself out of there fast.

    What do you mean “bought into it”?

    Favour: Abuse is scary. You never know when you go from completely sensible to irrational.

    I started believing the beating was normal. He couldn’t help it because of all the pressures of life. Me sef why did I do this or that. He beats me because he’s so in love and passionate about us. Maybe it’s even advanced BDSM. I remember it being so normal after a while. I started liking and craving for how he’d beg and make me feel special after he’d given me a dirty slap. 

    Nnamdi: I wish I could set up some soldiers on the guy.

    Favour: One day, our son was in the picture. When he was around two, I looked at him and thought, “I must be crazy to want to raise this boy here.” 

    It took me two more years to leave. I stayed with this man for eight years of my life. I found it almost impossible to even think about dating after that.

    At what point did you reveal these things to each other?

    Favour: I told him my ex was abusive on that first meeting. But I’ve only recently shared most of the details with him.

    Nnamdi: I told her about my relationship history the first two or three times we talked. It was a prerequisite to even continue with whatever would happen between us because I think she wanted to make sure I wasn’t a major red flag.

    During our first meetings, we carried on like new friends trying to keep the connection going because we’re at that age when we have a little more free time after a decade or more of grinding and losing friends to capitalism.

    Favour: My life revolved around my mum and my son, so making a new friend in such an interesting way was exciting. I think also cancelling out the possibility of us dating from the beginning helped me let my guard down and open up a bit, in a way I’d never thought I would to a stranger.

    So when did you realise you liked each other?

    Favour: I think it snuck up on us. I can’t pinpoint a time. 

    Maybe it started with me wanting to make time during the weekends to see him, or when about a month after we met, I wanted him to meet my son.

    Nnamdi: I knew I liked her on the second meeting. We were both surprised when I reached out to her about seeing again the very next week after the first meet. We were still playing it friendly, but I knew I wouldn’t get that interested in seeing a new friend so soon.

    When she asked if I wanted to meet her son, I knew she liked me two but maybe hadn’t realised it yet. I played it cool for all of two months before I finally asked if we could become romantic.

    Is that how you asked? “Can we become romantic?”

    Nnamdi: I think so.

    Favour: He said, “Please, let’s date romantically.” He was a little nervous, and I found it cute. I said yes even though I was also scared as hell. I kept checking his approach and attitude next to how my ex-husband did his own, to make sure I wasn’t falling for the same tricks.

    I wanted to ghost him the week after I agreed to date him because I didn’t trust my judgement. It was tough.

    Nnamdi: Thank you for opening your heart to me.

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

    What was meeting the son like?

    Favour: It was normal, quiet. But he was happy to see Nnamdi. He had this soft smile on his face throughout. My son is quite shy. We met at my house, so it was his comfort zone, and Nnamdi didn’t stay too long. I watched them talk quietly for about 30 minutes then he brought out his Legos to show Nnamdi what he could build. I knew we’d won his approval.

    Nnamdi: We weren’t under much pressure because we were still just friends. I just cared about her enough that I also cared to know that she wasn’t struggling to take care of her son. I wanted to be there to help. When I met this well-behaved young boy, I knew his mum had to be a good person.

    How do your families feel about your relationship?

    Favour: It’s been just my mum and I for like a decade now. She’s accepted him wholeheartedly. In fact, she was my litmus test in the first month of whether I made the right decision to let him in, and they got along right from his visit to our house to meet my son. They have such a good rapport.

    Nnamdi: I’ll admit my parents are less accepting. They would’ve preferred someone younger, someone who wasn’t married before and didn’t have a child already. 

    They said as much when I told them about her earlier on. But they’d also given up on me finding a wife deep in my 40s, and I have four happily married siblings, so they’re less willing to push my preference on her.

    Favour: Yeah, my relationship with his parents is mixed because I can clearly see I’m not their preferred choice, but they’re also quite well-behaved about it. I’m never disrespected. 

    Although I don’t know what might happen if Di now decides to marry me.

    Is marriage already in the conversation?

    Nnamdi: Well. That’s the natural direction right now. We celebrate a year of dating in July. At our age, you don’t date for that long without thinking about marriage.

    Favour: But he hasn’t proposed yet. 

    We talk about the future a lot, hypothetically. We talk about our career trajectories. We’re also currently figuring out children. I think that’s the one thing maybe holding us back.

    How so?

    Favour: Well, I’m on the tail end of my fertility journey, and I know he wants his kids. Some years back, I froze some of my eggs. We’re in that interesting period of checking out all our options.

    Nnamdi: That’s not holding me back, Fave.

    Favour: Ok. I’m just saying what I feel. I know it’s important to you.

    What would happen if you find out you can’t have any more kids?

    Nnamdi: Thank God for technology. We’ll invest in surrogacy. I don’t mind that at all. I’m just glad she had the foresight to freeze her eggs.

    Favour: I’d be sad for sure, but I’m already bracing for the worst. I know that sounds pessimistic.

    Nnamdi: I think we’ll be fine. It’s more important to me that I’ve found someone I can connect and feel like an equal with. We’re so well matched in terms of work, finances and the kind of conversations we can have. 

    And I love the way she’s raising her son, how involved she is even though she has her hectic work schedule.

    Do you get pushback from society?

    Favour: Some of his friends. Actually, I can tell his friends don’t like me.

    Nnamdi: That’s not entirely true. 

    There are two particular friends who don’t like that I’d have to take care of another man’s son, and I’ve told them off. 

    Favour: I think a lot of them expected that you’d end up with someone younger. Especially that friend who set you up on the radio show in the first place.

    One time, I saw him text Nnamdi that since he held out for so long, he thought he’d use the opportunity to get someone in her 20s.

    Nnamdi: I’m so embarrassed of my friends right now. But it was also a very stupid “man” joke.

    Do you find it funny, Favour?

    Favour: Certainly not. I replied him “fuck off” as if I was Nnamdi, LOL. Ok, maybe I found it funny a little.

    Nnamdi: But the same guy also asked me when I’m putting a ring on it just last week. I swear it’s all chill.

    Favour: Well, my ex also gets in our way, showing up unannounced at times to get our son. I think the side with him and even his parents will always be complicated, so I get why Nnamdi’s friends are worried. Being a single mum is not pretty.

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    Can you tell us just how complicated it gets?

    Favour: The major thing is not being able to plan out your kid’s life with the person you love. Instead, you’re doing it with someone you most likely hate. 

    I don’t know which is worse, having an active baby daddy you now hate or having a totally absent one. From where I’m sitting, I’d choose the latter any day.

    Nnamdi: I’m not sure if I have the right to talk about this, but there’s also the worry that someone you know is abusive still gets to take care of your young child, and you’re not there to make sure they aren’t abusive to them as well.

    Favour: Oh yes, thank you. That scares me all the time. 

    There’s nothing you can do about this?

    Nnamdi: Like, Nigerian law is so vague and heavily patriarchal-leaning on child custody after divorce that I don’t know if there’s any way she can appeal for full custody. 

    Favour: My feminist ally! 

    But so far, my ex has proven to be a good father, and I keep praying that he will continue. I pray for my son ceaselessly. I just wish I never had to see my ex again.

    Understandable. Have you two had a major fight yet?

    Favour: Have we? No. 

    Nnamdi: Ahh. You don’t remember the day you almost screamed my head off for talking over you and telling your aunty that you’d allow her side of the family to take over accommodation arrangements during your father’s remembrance in February.

    Favour: I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up. 

    Tell us your side!

    Favour: All of a sudden, he was telling my relatives he’d sorted this and handled that and set up this other thing. I was upset that he was going over my head; he didn’t discuss any of it with me. I didn’t even know what he was talking about in some cases.

    Nnamdi: I thought I was helping by taking things off her plate in her time of grief. I had no idea she hated it until after the conversation with her aunt. That night in our room, she started screaming and crying. 

    I was angry too because I didn’t expect that reaction after all my sacrifice. But I also understood she was overwhelmed. I just walked out. 

    Favour: The next day was the event, and we were both carrying face.

    Nnamdi: Later on, we talked about it and apologised to each other. 

    What she recently shared about the abuse she endured from her ex has also made me understand her reaction that day.

    Have you both considered seeing a therapist about it?

    Favour: We’ve talked about it. We probably will. I know I’ve healed from it in many ways thanks to my relationship with God, but the trauma is still there psychologically.

    Nnamdi: I’d highly support that. I’d love to know how not to trigger her but also make sure I’m not compromising my own emotions as well.

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

    Nnamdi: 10. Don’t look down on matchmaking, guys.

    Favour: Yes, 10. Also, don’t look down on finding love at any age.

    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.

    COMPULSORY READ: Love Life: We Found Out He Was Impotent After the Wedding

  • To Marry for Love or Money? — 6 Married Nigerians Share Their Experiences

    To Marry for Love or Money? — 6 Married Nigerians Share Their Experiences

    A Nollywood actress’ recent comments about wishing she’d married for money instead of love has woken social media debaters from their slumber and inspired another version of the age-old conversation topic: Should you marry for love or money?

    I spoke to married Nigerians, and they talked about marrying for either love or money and what they’d do differently if they could have a do-over.

    Gbemi, 51

    I married for love, but I won’t advise any young woman to do the same. My husband isn’t a bad man, and I’m not suffering, but I have a reason for my answer.

    When I married my husband, he was unemployed and only had foam in his bedroom—no bed or mattress—just foam to sleep on. If you mistakenly slept on that foam without a bedsheet, you’d have to spend hours removing foam from your hair. But I loved him, and he was kind to me. I also had a job, and we planned to use my salary to build a school as our family business.

    It worked out for us, but only because my husband is a rare breed. For over six years, I brought most of the money, and he never acted out. He never talked even when I did my normal woman wahala and spent money on unnecessary things. He neither asked me for money nor tried to police what I used money for. I dropped it at home by myself because of our school plan.

    Men of these days can’t do that. I can’t count the number of family issues I’ve helped solve that’s rooted in the woman earning more. Don’t say your own man can’t do it. Marry someone with money, please. Marriage is already stressful without adding money and the stress of managing someone’s ego to it. If I didn’t get married to my husband, I most likely wouldn’t have married a poor man.

    Obinna, 43

    I didn’t even marry for either love or money. I got married to my partner because my parents knew her family and recommended her. I don’t have any regrets. She’s made my house a home and is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’ve been married for over 10 years, and that’s love if you ask me. If I had the opportunity again, I’d still allow my parents to pick for me. 

    Rola, 29

    I married for both love and money by making sure to find love where the money was. I understand that money is vital in building a home and removing unnecessary stress, so poverty was a deal-breaker for me when I was single. I don’t have much in common with broke men, so where did they even want to find me? I make good money and expect the same from a romantic partner. That’ll always be my standard.

    Justina, 40

    I married quite young for love, and while I’m grateful that my husband and I are fairly financially comfortable now, it wasn’t always like that. There were years of struggle that affected the love. Of course, you can’t be thinking about love when landlord is threatening to throw you out over unpaid rent, or when you’re doing 001 and eating once a day so your kids can eat. 

    Fortunately, we stayed together through those years, but I don’t think we’re as close as before. We lost that connection while struggling to make ends meet. If I had the opportunity to do it all over again, I’d have waited for us to make money first before getting married and raising children.

    Femi, 34

    Do Nigerian men really have the option to marry for money? I don’t think it’s as common for us. I married my wife because I love her. Whether she brings in money or not isn’t really my business because I’m meant to provide for her and my family. That’s not to say it doesn’t get difficult. I’ve been married for five years, and sometimes, I want to run away from all my financial responsibilities. If it’s not house rent, it’s fuel or the children or even extended family. Maybe if I had another opportunity, I’d find a way to hook Dangote’s daughter so that I, too, can enjoy.

    Yemi, 31

    I married for love and peace of mind. Money isn’t everything. My husband and I don’t have it all, but at least we’re together. I’ve heard stories of richer couples who eventually divorced or are battling one problem or the other. I’ll advise anyone to consider peace of mind and whether they can stay happy with that person for years over how much is in their account. Money can disappear overnight, but marriage is a lifetime thing. Will you end the marriage because there’s no money again?


    NEXT READ: I Blame My Rich Parents for My Lack of Ambition

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  • 20 Unique Messages to Send to Your Boyfriend in 2024

    20 Unique Messages to Send to Your Boyfriend in 2024

    Nothing beats the feeling of getting a phone notification during a bad work day and it turns out to be a message from the LOYL. If you’re a lady who wants to profess love, inspire or invite that man over for genital slamming, we’ve got you covered with a list of unique messages for your boyfriend that’ll get him thanking God for the day your paths crossed. 

    20 Unique Messages to Send to Your Boyfriend in 2024

    “Love me jeje, love me tender. You’re my sugar, my honey, my tender lover.”

    Thanks to Tems, this line from Seyi Sodimu’s 1999 record has made a comeback to the dating scene. Use it for your man, it works wonders.

    “My heart goes out to jigi jigi bam bam.”

    Send this to a millennial or gen X lover, and watch him melt like a cheap deliverance candle. 

    “I slept knowing I’ll see you in my dreams, but I woke realising you’re not just a dream to me but my perfect reality.”

    The only way to say good morning to your talking stage who’s showing heavy signs that he’s your last bus stop. 

    “I know you’re at work right now, but I just wanted to say how much I love you.“

    Let that man know you appreciate all he’s doing. This message will also push him to go harder.

    “My baby. The one who makes Nigerian air breathable. Your softness is why I don’t even consider the hardship in the country…”

    No better way to let that man know Nigeria has nothing on your love for him. 

    “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever known, and I can’t believe I’m the one who got you.”

    When you want him to know just how much you appreciate doing life with him. 

    “Your middle name should be Google because you’re always right, and you have everything I’ve been searching for in a man.”

    Send this to a man, and you’ll scatter his medulla oblongata. 

    “I love you more than roasted corn. And I really love corn.”

    That man knows he has to act right if you’re placing him above good ol’ roasted corn. 

    “You’re the one I want o / Before my liver start to fail.”

    In case you want to profess your love to him with the help of Afrobeats.

    “I love you.”

    Coming from you to your man, he’ll have butterflies fluttering in his tummy. 

    “Missing you. Big head.“

    A simple way to let him know he needs to bring his ass to wherever you are.

    “Me without you is like a phone without internet connection. Come back soon.”

    Another way of telling that man to jump on the next danfo and come to you. 

    “May Nigeria never happen to you.”

    It’s up there in some of the most important prayers for anyone living in Nigeria. That man will know you rate him AF. 

    “You didn’t come this far to give up now. You’ll get through this.“

    For when your man needs a little cheering up from life’s shege.

    “Hey baby, I’m sorry you’re feeling down today. Don’t forget I’m here for you. Sending you all my love and support.”

    A simple way to help him get through a rough patch.

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    “Check your account, baby. I sent something small.”

    The Nigerian economy is showing everyone shege right now, so you better believe that man can use a lil support here and there, even if you’ll get it back in ten folds.

    “I know you can’t stand me right now, but how do you look so good even when you’re angry?”

    For when you’ve pissed him TF up and want to stylishly apologise.

    “Hey Zaddy”

    It’s a short message but heavy with meaning. That man will know you want to be babied in a way that’ll make your toes curl.

    “Hey baby, wanna come home and lick my plate?”

    It’s unhinged, but it’ll crack him up and send him running to you in no time. 

    “I burn for you”

    This Bridgerton line is still hot as hell in almighty 2024. Let that man know how far you’re willing to go for him and his phallus.

    Enjoyed this piece about unique messages for your boyfriend? Read this next: 22 Ridiculously Flirty Nicknames For Your Boyfriend

  • I Blame My Rich Parents for My Lack of Ambition

    I Blame My Rich Parents for My Lack of Ambition

    Coming from a privileged background is often associated with a guaranteed shot at success. But Richard* (28) thinks it’s put him at a disadvantage.

    He talks about getting whatever he wanted as a child, how that has contributed to his lack of ambition as an adult and his fears for the future.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image designed by Freepik

    “Blame” is a strong word, but it best describes how I sometimes feel about my parents. 

    They’re the kind of people you’d call “new money”. Growing up, I heard several stories about how my dad would trek to school with the one pair of shoes he wore everywhere; school, church and when he had to follow his dad to the farm to harvest yams. My mum had a similar upbringing; she grew up in Lagos in those “face me I slap you” houses.

    Education and sheer grit changed my father’s story and brought him the money and connections he didn’t have growing up. For him, that meant his children never had to struggle like he did. Coupled with the fact that his first child — me — came after almost six years of waiting, and the second child came after I turned 9, his “my children will never suffer” resolve quickly turned into spoiling.

    I don’t remember ever wanting something and being told “no”. One time in primary school, a classmate refused to let me try on his new watch, so I complained to my mum at home and she made our house help go to the market to buy the same watch for me that evening. 

    I failed my mathematics exam once in JSS 3, but it never got to my results sheet because the teacher called my parents and told them about it. My score was too close to a D, and the teacher knew my parents wouldn’t like it. I don’t know what they discussed, but they gave me new exam sheets with another that contained the answers to rewrite it in my dad’s room. All I had to do was copy the answers in my handwriting. I got an A.

    I’m not saying my parents didn’t teach me any values. They taught me to be kind and respectful, but I never really “struggled” or had to think about how to solve challenges. I just always knew mummy or daddy would handle it.

    The first time I might’ve handled “adult” problems was in 2013. I was in my second year at a popular federal university. My parents only wanted me to attend that university because of the alumni network. 

    But one lecturer came to the class and started saying “A is for God, and B is for me”, so my parents decided it was best to transfer to a private university. Why did I need to stress over a lecturer who was famous for failing students? 

    It’s the same quest for an easier life that made me fake an illness to abandon NYSC camp in 2018 and has made it almost impossible for me to stay at one job for more than six months. I once walked out of a graduate internship because third mainland bridge traffic was stressing my life, and I wasn’t about the “waking up at 5 a.m.” life. 

    That’s when I manage to get jobs. Since 2019, I’ve had three jobs. It’s 2024, and I’ve been unemployed for seven months. There’s just something unappealing about convincing potential employers to “choose” you that makes the job search stressful for me.

    I’m not idle, though. I try tech content creation sometimes as a hobby, but it takes a level of consistency that’s difficult to keep up with. 

    I’m a 28-year-old man, and I see the strides my mates are making, but I don’t feel the push to do more. I feel like I’m not living up to my potential. Specifically, I don’t know what path to take; I feel stuck. My best friend says I have classic “failure to launch” symptoms.

    My parents don’t seem bothered, probably because they’ve already mapped out my future; my dad has real estate investments that will go to me after I get married. But I don’t even know if I’m interested in real estate or learning what it takes to manage it. I love my parents and enjoy a close relationship with my family. They support my lifestyle, and I’m grateful for that. 

    However, I think my struggle with a lack of ambition and feeling stuck is connected to how they raised me. What’s there to look forward to when I already have all I need? 

    I’d like to raise my future kids better. But I’m not even sure how to make sure they’re better adjusted, and that scares me more than I like to admit. 


    *Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ: I’ve Chased Money All My Life. There Has to Be More

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  • 22 Ridiculously Flirty Nicknames For Your Boyfriend

    22 Ridiculously Flirty Nicknames For Your Boyfriend

    Are you trying to stir up tension between you and your significant other? Do you want him to put you in seven different positions at the whisper of his name? Regardless of your answer, you’re in luck because we made a list of ridiculously flirty nicknames to call your boyfriend from today henceforth — emphasis on “ridiculous”. 

    20 Ridiculously Flirty Nicknames For Your Boyfriend
    Image by Freepik

    Olowo ori mi, ale nobody

    If you call a Yoruba man this, you’ll get the keys to his heart.

    Sweety pie

    Before you roll your eyes, is he a pie or not?

    G-spot hitter

    This should be the flirty nickname for your boyfriend if he knows how to eat your work diligently. 

    Joystick

    If you always think about his phallus before him.

    Adaripon mi

    To be used for a bald Yoruba man while gently stroking his head. 

    Uso’m

    If you want that Igbo man to know he’s your “sweetness”.

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    Freaky Freaky

    This is for a man who knows how to get your freaky on.

    My ovaries

    If your insides jiggle outta excitement anytime you see him.

    Dickson

    If his “gbola” is your favourite thing in the relationship.

    Partner-in-crime

    Because you know what you both get up to at night and in private places.

    Rainmaker

    For a man who knows how to turn your showers of blessings on.

    Jannatin Duniya

    For that Hausa man who takes you to paradise.

    Dodo Mayana

    If you’re dating an Egbon Adugbo who goes hard on the “G” in genital slamming.

    Sweet scum

    He’s scum, but he’s YOUR scum and that makes him the sweetest thing after honey.

    Lover boy

    If he’s head over heels in love.

    My big bear

    If you always feel all cute and cuddly in his big embrace. 

    Naughty boy

    If he’s a spoilt person.

    Bad boy

    This is for a man who knows how to press all your right buttons, especially the most important one.

    Dopamine supplier

    Use this flirty nickname for your boyfriend if he gets you high on love.

    Hottie Tottie 

    If he’s sexually attractive as fuck.

    Beau

    Because a little French is sexy AF.

    Zaddy

    If your man is a glucose daddy.

    Enjoyed reading about flirty nicknames for your boyfriend? Read this next: 30 Sweet Igbo Names to Call Your Wife

  • Love Life: We Found Out He Was Impotent After the Wedding

    Love Life: We Found Out He Was Impotent After the Wedding

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Kola: We met during a church outreach in Kaduna in 1987. She served there when I was transferred to Kaduna town with other church members for missionary work. She met some church representatives who went to preach to corpers while she was in camp, so when she got out, she started attending our local fellowship with her friends. 

    The first day I saw her, we got along very well, and I invited her and her friends over to the missionary lodge for lunch. We ended up having a mini bible study and talking about life. At first, I liked one of her friends and thought about courting her, but by the end of the day, I preferred Wunmi. I liked her gentle temperament.

    Wunmi: I first saw him when he preached about God’s love during one fellowship. He was so passionate about his message that he made me want to experience that kind of love more. 

    After he invited us to the lodge and we talked, I had a feeling we’d get married. Back then, the process of dating was a lot simpler. You find someone you gel with, and if they gel with you too, it’s smooth sailing from there to marriage except there are complications like tribalism, religion or genotype. We already knew we were well-matched in the first two, and by the next meeting, we’d confirmed we were both AA.

    So did you immediately decide on marriage?

    Kola: No. We courted first. 

    I introduced her to my mentor in Kaduna then and also telephoned my spiritual father back in Oyo about her. All that happened in the first month. She didn’t tell any of her folks about me because we decided she’d have to finish NYSC first before we moved things forward. But I wanted to set things right spiritually.

    Wunmi: I was also watching him to be sure he was kind and I liked spending time with him. He helped me get a room at the lodge, so I spent the service year working for the government, helping out at the fellowship and spending time with him and other church leaders. I never had to worry about food or transportation. It was such a peaceful, lovely time. 

    Then he got called back to his home church in Ibadan about two months before my passing out. But he promised to come to Lagos and marry me once I was back there. We exchanged contact addresses, and he left. I cried for days because I missed his constant presence. That’s how I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

    I’m guessing he came to Lagos as promised?

    Wunmi: He did. 

    First, he called the house some weeks after I’d settled in. This was in May 1988. My older brother picked up the phone and called me to answer it. I was so happy to hear his voice after so long. He came to see my father sometime in June, and something funny happened. My father didn’t like him.

    Kola: We never got along until the day he died.

    Wunmi: He told me, “This man is sickly. Is this really who you want to marry?” 

    Kola has always been lanky. In fact, that was one of the things that attracted me to him when we were in Kaduna, his tall, lean frame. My dad asked me to find out what was wrong with him because he was sure something was wrong. I felt bad because it’s not like he looked sick, he was just lanky. 

    I went ahead and asked him. He told me nothing was wrong. My father later gave his consent for us to marry after some long investigations from both families.

    What kind of investigations?

    Kola: My family sent some trusted people to find out about her family and hometown. It was very common in our time for people to go to your village and get to the root of your upbringing and family line even before the normal family introduction. 

    Her family did the same until both sides were satisfied. 

    Wunmi: My father even sent our firstborn to his workplace in UTC Foods to make sure he really worked there. We passed all the tests, and our families finally met in Lagos. The traditional and wedding proper happened in my hometown in Sagamu in April 1989. 

    Everything happened smoothly, and we moved to Ibadan together.

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    How was it like being newlyweds?

    Wunmi: It was scary and I was homesick. I’d never lived in Ibadan before then. I was also a bit of a Mama’s girl. Even though I schooled in Ife, I used to go home for every single holiday. In fact, my NYSC year was the only time I’d lived away from home for a stretch. 

    But the real stress all started when we were ready to consummate the marriage some weeks after the wedding and he couldn’t make it work.

    Kola: I thought it was just anxiety. When this persisted for about a month, we went to the clinic and discovered I had high blood sugar. They had to refer me to University College Hospital. It took several tests before they diagnosed me with Type 2 diabetes. 

    Wunmi: It had been left untreated in his system for too long. The first thing that came to my mind was that my father was right. Should I have listened to him and not married Kola? We were crushed, but the doctor assured us that all would be well after a few months of proper treatment.

    Was he right?

    Wunmi: He became potent after a while, but I still couldn’t conceive. We tried for years and nothing; his sperm count was too low. We took it to God in prayer and told our spiritual leaders. It made the first several years of our marriage quite sad.

    Kola: As if getting the diagnosis reminded my body that something was wrong, I started getting weak all the time. The medications managed the weakness and sugar deficiency but made me feel horrible. Managing my health with work and the constant stress about making a family was a great trial for us. 

    Wunmi: I got a job at a school two years into marriage, and it helped distract me a bit. But all we did was try everything we could afford to try to help me conceive. 

    I’m not sure there was anything like IVF then. Surrogacy could only happen if I wanted another man’s sperm inserted into my womb. Somehow, the thought of that only made our situation feel worse.

    How did this affect your daily relationship with each other?

    Kola: At first, we stayed positive. But by the third year, around the time when she got her job, we started to fight a lot. We were constantly arguing, and I could tell I was making her miserable.

    Wunmi: I think I was just hurt and confused.

    Kola: Things mellowed by the fourth year. Maybe she resigned herself to the situation, but she became more willing to be happy in the marriage. We could have normal conversations again, and I noticed she never brought up having a baby, so I followed suit.

    Wunmi: After our fifth year of marriage, in ‘94, my mum visited. She’d visited a couple of times before then, but this time, she came with a purpose. It was written all over her when she walked through our door. In private, she asked me what was going on that we hadn’t conceived. 

    She was the kind of sweet mother who would’ve never pressured me to give her grandchildren, but even she had reached her limit. I had to confide in her about Kola’s health condition.

    What was her reaction?

    Wunmi: She was so sad at first. But then she said, “It’s not the end of the world. We’ll just remain prayerful.” I burst into tears in her chest. 

    I’d never really thought about having children as this amazing thing I wanted at all costs, but it was something that one just expects to do with ease. I didn’t know how to get past not being able to be a mother. But after that, I resolved that I’d accept my fate.

    Kola: She became more withdrawn after that particular visit from her mother. But I didn’t know why until we spoke about it years later. It affected our spiritual life too. The stress made us withdraw from active evangelism and missionary work. 

    Wunmi: There was a brief moment when I lost faith, not quite in God but in the religious activities and constant prayer. Between ‘93 and ‘95, I wasn’t prayerful at all. I was exhausted from playing Hannah earlier on in our marriage. I just wanted to attend normal Sunday service, take what I could from the sermon and go.

    What about your sex life?

    Kola: The last time we had sex regularly was most likely in ‘95 or ‘96.

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

    Were you ever able to get past this dark part of your marriage?

    Kola: Our tenth year was the turning point for us, I think. 

    We moved to Lagos in 1999, away from the relatives and acquaintances who constantly badgered her about when we planned to start having children.

    Wunmi: He got a new job in Lagos, and moving back to a state I knew well was surprisingly healing. We focused more on being good friends and partners and planning out the rest of our lives. That’s also when we first considered adopting. Although we didn’t take it seriously until well into 2001.

    Kola: Some years before then, one of my cousins brought up plans for him and his wife to adopt, and my family had frowned on it seriously. My late father was very vocal in his disapproval. They made it impossible for the cousin to go through with it because of how often they brought it up and made it seem like he was evil for even considering it. 

    So I knew if we had to do it, no one could know the children were adopted.

    How did you pull that off?

    Kola: First, I had to also convince Wunmi to want to keep it secret. Then we had to go through Nigeria’s stringent adoption process for a newborn.

    Wunmi: This also affected our relationship because I was uncomfortable with the dishonesty. I didn’t think it would work. It also meant I’d have to spend months with his sister in America to “give birth”. 

    But I decided to accept. I was just tired of the whole thing.

    Tell me how it went

    Kola: We started the adoption process in August 2001 and completed it in February 2003, so the newborn we’d initially selected had to be replaced with another baby. We never met the parents; we only saw photos. 

    Wunmi: This scared me because wouldn’t they want to meet the people who’d take over as parents to their baby? It made me wonder what kind of genetics our new baby would have. But then, I put myself in their shoes and realised maybe it’d be too painful for them to meet us and still hand their baby over. 

    I was also scared they’d grow up and want to know their biological parents.

    Kola: Completing the adoption process meant that they got new birth certificates with our names on them as their parents, so I didn’t worry too much about it. But there was a long back and forth working with the officials, getting the social welfare officers to visit our home and submit positive recommendations to the court and so on. Halfway through, I just wanted to give up.

    Wunmi: Meanwhile, I felt so ashamed lying to my mum, of all people, about everything. And when she passed away in 2002, I was inconsolable. I know I would’ve told her about it in the end. I never would’ve gone through with it without telling her. 

    I’m so sorry. What exactly did you do to successfully keep the whole plan a secret from family and friends?

    Kola: We’d rather not discuss that here.

    Wunmi: But it’s no longer a secret. Shortly after we adopted our second baby in 2006, we told everyone about it and how the first was also adopted. It was just time; we’d matured a lot, and it was less easy to go through with the elaborate charade a second time.

    Kola: We were ostracised in many ways, but in the end, we were fine. At least, the children have grown up knowing the truth, so it doesn’t crush their identity in adulthood.

    True. In what ways were you ostracised?

    Kola: My father disowned me for about two years until I had to make a show of seeking out his forgiveness with several visits, tears and prostrations. My mother refused to come and help Wunmi out after we just brought home our second child.

    Wunmi: She said something like, “You didn’t push her out, so you’re strong enough to handle taking care of her na.” We managed to get by without much family support.

    Kola: Her father already didn’t like me, so he felt quite justified by everything that was happening.

    Wunmi: Maybe because of this, our second baby drew us closer. She was a gentle and easygoing baby. We found it easy to work together to take care of her and the household during this period.

    Did things get easier after this?

    Wunmi: Yes. After the children came into our lives, it felt like we could finally settle and move forward. I started a catering business and became more active in church because I wanted to raise them to be godly.

    Kola: She still worries about them asking about their real parents, but so far, that’s never happened. 

    What would you do if they asked?

    Kola: We’ll point them in the right direction and leave the rest to God.

    Wunmi: That might be easier said than done for me.

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

    Wunmi: I’d rate it a 7 because it could’ve been a lot worse, but we’ve been able to approach our battles with kindness, gentleness and the grace of God.

    Kola: She has said it all. 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.

    This was exciting: Love Life: We Went From an Open Relationship to Polyamory

  • 7 Nollywood Romantic Movies to Watch If You Just Finished “Bridgerton”

    7 Nollywood Romantic Movies to Watch If You Just Finished “Bridgerton”
    7 Nollywood Romantic Movies to Watch If You Just Finished “Bridgerton”

    Whether you’re a new fan of Bridgerton who just binged all three seasons, or an old fan who is anxiously waiting for the second part of the third season to drop, we know some Nollywood romantic movies that might be the perfect placeholder.

    “Big Love”

    He might not be the Duke of Hastings, but our resident Nollywood bad boy, Timini Egbuson, has all the allure to keep you glued to your screens. He stars alongside Bimbo Ademoye in this Biodun Stephen-directed romcom.

    Adil (Timini) falls in love with Adina (Bimbo), an independent woman struggling to make ends meet at a graduate training camp, but a secret threatens to ruin their love. Shaffy Bello, Jaiye Kuti and Seyi Awolowo star in this film too.

    “Namaste Wahala”

    You know how the fashion in “Bridgerton” is so fire? This might be the closest Nollywood movie to that because it combines the richness of Indian and Nigerian cultures.

    Released in 2020, Namaste Wahala follows the budding romance between a Nigerian woman and an Indian man, leading to a charming and heartwarming tale of love, family and acceptance. It’s a delightful romantic comedy that celebrates love across cultural boundaries. Ini Dima-Okojie plays the lead with support from Richard Mofe-Damijo, Joke Silva, Osas Ighodaro, among others.

    “Hey You”

    Bridgerton had its fair share of slightly “rated 18” scenes, and if there’s one Nollywood movie that can reprise these steamy scenes, it has to be Hey You. This movie recruits Nollywood’s Timini Egbuson to play Abel, a 32-year-old software designer who is shy about meeting women. Abel will rather hide behind keypads as a fan-only user, watching red-room models and jerking off to their kinkiness. On the other side is Bianca, a caregiver at an orphanage who doubles as an adult model on the 18+ site, to which Abel is a subscriber. A friendship soon starts between the two, and things get hotter when Abel discover Bianca’s double life. Efe Irele and Stan Nze also star in this movie.

    It’s available to stream on Prime Video.

    “The Royal Hibiscus Hotel”

    If you’re a fan of the picturesque settings in Bridgerton, you’ll love The Royal Hibiscus Hotel as it’s one of those Nollywood romantic movies with a stunning location.

    Released in 2017, the Ebonylife production tells a charming love story as Ope, a talented London chef, navigates the challenges of reviving her parents’ struggling hotel. She soon encounters a guest who turns out to be her prince charming. Zainab Balogun, Kenneth Okolie, Jide Kososo, among others, feature in this film.

    It’s available to stream on Netflix.

    “Isoken”

    If you can relate to the way Bridgerton puts pressure on characters to find the perfect partner and get married, you’ll understand why Isoken deserves a spot on this list.

    This 2017 movie follows the life of a woman who is under pressure to get married. When she meets Oshina, a handsome investment banker, she starts to question her ideas about love and marriage. It has all the tropes about self-discovery, family and finding love in unexpected places, just like BridgertonIsoken stars Dakore Egbuson and Joseph Benjamin, among others. It’s available to stream on Netflix.

     [ad]

    “A Sunday Affair”

    It’s one of the Nollywood romantic movies that had lovers hooked during the Valentine’s Day period of 2023. Starring two of Nollywood’s most iconic actresses, Nse Ikpe-Etim and Dakore Akande, as best friends, the two fall in love with the same man, and it’s a downward spiral from there that makes for gripping TV. You’ll get the kick from this movie just like that Bridgerton season where the Sharma sisters fall for the Viscount Bridgerton. It’s available to stream on Netflix.

    “The Wedding Party”

    You can’t possibly talk about Nollywood romantic classics and miss out on Ebonylife’s The Wedding Party. If you’re desperately hoping some of the Bridgerton couples take their romantic relationship offscreen to the modern day, this is one movie that’ll tickle your fancy.

    Released in 2016, the romantic comedy which stars Adesua Etomi and Banky W unfolds against the backdrop of a lavish Nigerian wedding. Their love is threatened by cultural clashes that stem from the coming together of their different families. It also stars Sola Sobowale, Ali Baba, Ireti Doyle, among others. It’s available to stream on Netflix.

    Take this quiz: Which Bridgerton Couple Is Your Favourite?

  • Love Life: We Went From an Open Relationship to Polyamory

    Love Life: We Went From an Open Relationship to Polyamory

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Dumebi: Let me go first. I met Oyin during her convocation ceremony in June 2022. She was my brother’s set mate, but they didn’t know each other at the time. I’m not sure how she caught my eye, but she was taking pictures with her friends. I watched her do this for a while until she walked in my direction. I had to walk up to her and say hi.

    Oyin: I didn’t know he’d been watching me. I just went to get something from my dad’s car that was parked a bit far away when he approached me and said, “Congratulations.” He introduced himself and asked for my name. That’s how he followed me to the car, we got there and just started talking. Then he asked for my number. 

    My dad was so angry wondering what took me so long just to check if they left a cooler in the booth. They didn’t. 

    Peju: I met Dumebi some months after that at a work thing. The company he worked for was helping my client with some PR projects, and we got to liaise a lot. We started meeting up outside our offices to get stuff done around February 2023 and that’s when we really started to get attracted to each other.

    Dumebi: Yeah. We’d meet at restaurants and cafes to check stuff out on her laptop and align on how we wanted to make the project run faster without our bosses being on our necks. It really simplified the work.

    I’m sure. Starting with Dumebi and Oyin, did you decide you liked each other from day one?

    Oyin: Yes, I thought he was cute, and I’d never been approached so directly, so he definitely left a good impression. I didn’t think he’d call me, but then, he did the next day and told me he liked me on that first call. We didn’t talk relationship until maybe a week later.

    Dumebi: I liked her, that’s why I walked up to her. But of course, we didn’t know each other yet, so I wasn’t in a hurry to define whatever feelings I had at the start. During our phone conversations, we got along well. She spoke in a way that made me know she was smart and interesting. 

    I also liked that she wasn’t sheltered because I get so frustrated with sheltered girls.

    How so?

    Dumebi: No offence to anyone like that, but they can be socially awkward and find it hard to speak their mind. I don’t want to have to school someone I want to share my life with on how to communicate. But that’s just me. 

    I liked that Oyin was brought up with a bit of freedom. I could sense this when she talked about her hobbies and activities. I knew I wanted a relationship from that first week.

    Oyin: I get that because one of the things I liked about him early on was how well he knew himself and what he wanted. He was always so decisive and sure of himself. 

    For our first date, he knew where he wanted to take me and when. There was no awkward back-and-forth about where I liked going or do I feel like going out or when do you think you’ll be free? I was surprised by how good that made me feel.

    How did this first date go?

    Dumebi: Because I knew she was a creative person who loved art, I took her to the Nike Art Gallery, and we just walked around and talked. We got an art piece that cost around 60k. We both pitched in but now it lives in her house where I can only go and visit it.

    Oyin: It’s this lovely painting. We treat it like our shared pet. 

    After the gallery, we went to a random restaurant to eat and talk more. We stayed there so late, I think the staff were getting passive-aggressive for us to leave. We kissed for the first time that evening in the car, and I liked it very much. That’s how the relationship started. 

    And where did Peju come in?

    Dumebi: We knew we liked each other, but somewhere along the line, we realised we weren’t aligned sexually. 

    First, she wanted to wait. When she was finally ready, she didn’t enjoy it despite all my efforts. It was a bit stressful for me because I’m a fairly sexually active person, but like I said, I really liked her.

    Oyin: So I suggested that we open the relationship. 

    I didn’t want us to break up because I liked him way more than I’d ever liked anyone, and for the first time, I was with someone who liked me the same amount and I could tell. He wasn’t afraid to show it. I’d dated two guys before him, and it was either I liked them too much or they liked me a lot more than I did.

    Did you talk about how you’d open the relationship?

    Oyin: Yes, we discussed it at my place one Sunday evening in October 2022. We’d only been together three months, so I was a little scared I was just ruining things further.

    Dumebi: I thought she was crazy, that it was just her way of breaking up with me because I’d never considered an open relationship before. 

    We talked about sleeping with other people as long as we always let each other know and we also stayed safe. That’s how I got to find out she was bisexual. She explained that she liked guys emotionally but only enjoyed sex with girls. I think I died for a second.

    Oyin: It was something I actually realised when we had sex. I thought with how much I liked him, liked kissing him, I’d actually enjoy it. But not so much.

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

    So the conversation went smoothly?

    Dumebi: In a way, yes. But I went through a lot of emotions in my head. Shock, fear, jealousy, anger, everything. The most important thing for us to establish was whether we trusted each other or was it too early in our relationship to know?

    Oyin: I don’t think he took my suggestion seriously until we spoke about it some more times. We’d still make out and he was as warm and intimate as ever. That made me feel good. Our daily activities had intertwined a lot by that time, and that didn’t change. We still talked and chatted several times during the day and made plans for meals and outings together. 

    But I really wanted us to be sexually satisfied as well. I realised I had to actively talk him through finding casual partners, as controversial as that sounds.

    Did you already have casual partners at this point, Oyin?

    Oyin: Oh no. Sex is much more important to him than to me. I don’t mean gender-wise. Just him as a person. I wanted to make him happy, and I’m glad that I did because now we have Peju in our lives.

    Dumebi: I tried with one other person before her. This girl I met in church was always talking about only wanting to sleep with me. But that didn’t work out because I wasn’t attracted to her. 

    When I met Peju, and she insisted she only wanted something casual, I thought it was perfect because I was definitely attracted.

    How did that go?

    Dumebi: I told Oyin about her, and she screamed that I wasn’t supposed to tell her Peju’s name. She started laughing at me then found her pictures online. It was a bit jarring to have that conversation. 

    Oyin: I thought she was hot and was happy for him. 

    Peju: The first night we had sex, he told me he had a girlfriend and she thought I was hot. I was like, “Children of nowadays don craze.” I think it made the sex hotter, I don’t know.

    You were fine with him having a girlfriend?

    Peju: It helped that he said he’d told her about me. But whether I completely believed him at the time, I’m not sure. I wanted something casual, and I didn’t think it would last more than once or twice. Maybe if he’d said he had a wife, I’d have acted differently though.

    Dumebi: But it ended up happening more than once or twice. As of July 2023, we were meeting up once a week. I could feel the relationship turning, and I didn’t even want to have any other casual partner.

    Oyin: Our own relationship didn’t change at all. We still talked and hung out as often as before. He was also much happier, so I started wanting to meet Peju, but I was scared that I was about to complicate things.

    How did you get to meet her?

    Oyin: It all happened in a very interesting way.

    Dumebi: I wanted them to meet too, even though we never even talked about it. I just asked Peju one night if she wanted to meet my girlfriend. She was like, “Are you alright?”

    Peju: I said no immediately. What part of “casual” didn’t he understand? Also, was he trying to get me acid-burnt?

    Dumebi: Anyway, our companies collaborated on another client, and she had to be in my office at least once a week. One of those days, Oyin came to eat lunch with me at our cafeteria. 

    I didn’t tell either of them because maybe I lowkey like drama.

    No way. In your office?

    Dumebi: It was awkward AF.

    Peju: I had to go down with him for lunch because his boss invited me since I was delayed in their office for almost four hours. I was so angry when he introduced us, but then, this babe just came to hug me and kiss my cheek. I was confused.

    Oyin: Yeah, the meal was awkwardly silent after. I wish I could tell her how chill I was about everything, but Mr Dumebi had to make us meet in his office building.

    Peju: After I left his office, I just started laughing to myself. I texted Dumebi to send me Oyin’s number. He didn’t send it until the next day, saying that he trusts me not to harass her. That’s how I called her and asked if she was okay. As in, “Are you mad?” but in a respectful way. We ended up talking and laughing. It was the strangest thing, but I got good vibes in general.

    [ad]

    What was the next move for the relationship(s)?

    Oyin: Nothing much happened for some months. We all just became friends. We were hanging out in each other’s houses a lot, but they weren’t having half as much sex anymore. I could sense that their dynamic was shifting, so I asked him about it.

    Dumebi: I wanted to give her enough space to process the whole thing. We actually didn’t sleep together again for another month. It was all a little confusing for me, so I avoided thinking too much about it.

    Peju: I was raised monogamous. Meeting and being friends with his girlfriend made me feel like I was doing something wrong by being with him. It’s harder to want sex with that mindset. 

    One day, Oyin and I were together in her house, and she asked if I was finally ready for a committed relationship instead of casual hookups. Long story short, she wanted me in their relationship. My first question was, had she ever been in a non-monogamous relationship before? She seemed so comfortable with it.

    Oyin: I’d never been, but I’d always been open to it. And at that point, I really liked both Dumebi and Peju.

    So you became a throuple?

    Oyin: Peju said she’d think about it, and I told Dumebi about it as well. That weekend, we met up at a restaurant and talked it out. Peju just kept laughing.

    Peju: I was actually nervous.

    Dumebi: I think we all were, but we were all also down.

    Peju: Of course, we weren’t ready for how complicated it is to be polyamorous in Nigeria. Everyone just thinks I’m Oyin’s best friend, and people constantly warn her not to let me get too close to “her man”.

    How do you navigate stuff like that?

    Peju: Well, I’m not ready to tell the world I’m in a relationship with two other people, so it’s quite complicated. We just try not to overthink it.

    Oyin: The last couple of months, we’ve taken turns going out on dates. Sometimes, it’s me and him; other times, me and her; other times, they go out without me. That gives us some freedom because it’s not like we’re celebrities with a large group of people looking closely into our relationship. 

    And when people warn me about her getting too close to him in ignorance, I just say, “I don’t mind.”

    Dumebi: We keep joking that I’ll just marry Oyin and then Peju a year apart and call it polygamy. But I also don’t find that funny. I hate how patriarchal that makes me sound.

    Does anyone else know?

    Dumebi: Our closest friends know. So between us, we have up to ten friends who know and are completely chill about it.

    Oyin: None of our family knows, though. Not even siblings. I personally don’t have close enough siblings, but we all decided we won’t tell for now.

    Peju: Actually, guys, my sister knows. Sorry.

    Scrim. Are there relationship things you do, all three of you?

    Peju: Besides sex?

    You have threesomes?

    Oyin: Yes, all the time now.

    Dumebi: We also still go on dates, all three of us. We’re heading towards moving in together before the end of the year.

    Any downsides so far? Besides the scrutiny from acquaintances

    Oyin: Jealousy here and there. But nothing really. 

    What I like most is that there’s more money to go around.

    Dumebi: Drawing the line is another thing. 

    I’ve pretty much closed shop when it comes to doing the open relationship thing, but Oyin still gets casual once in a while. There’s someone we might get committed to, and while I like him, I’ve also gotten very comfortable with our throuple. I’m not sure I want more.

    Peju: It’s something we’ve been discussing, whether we want to put a number peg on our relationship. He’ll ruin our future talks about polygamy, but we all agree that this new guy is hot.

    Oyin: We’ve all met him, so he knows he won’t be getting into a relationship with just me. But we’ll see how it goes.

    What was your first major fight about as a couple and throuple?

    Oyin: Where do we start?

    Dumebi and I fought over me moving things around his house the first month we got together. But I now respect his boundaries better because of that episode. It actually wasn’t a huge fight. 

    Dumebi: I spoke harshly to her and she spoke harshly back, and there was this brief shouting match. 

    Oyin: He later came to apologise but repeated that he doesn’t like people touching his things.

    Peju: Not sure I’ve fought with either of them, but as a throuple, we fight almost all the time. Well, more like we play fight. It’s never too serious. Mostly over food.

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

    Dumebi: 10.

    Peju: 9. I’m still battling my inner monogamy.

    Oyin: 20.

    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: Diarrhoea Almost Ruined Our First Date

  • Love Life: Diarrhoea Almost Ruined Our First Date

    Love Life: Diarrhoea Almost Ruined Our First Date

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Shola: We met on Twitter in March 2023. She posted about food and how she wanted to cook for her future husband. Me being a foodie, I commented under the tweet. She was really expressive after that and kept replying to my tweets, so I slid into her DM. She almost curved me but eventually gave me her number.

    Damilola: The first time we spoke over the phone, we ended up talking all night. And that’s not my normal behaviour.

    Is that how you realised you liked each other?

    Shola: She recommended a Pastor Adeboye movie for me to watch that night. I’m usually so busy, so I don’t get to watch TV a lot. But the next day, I made sure I watched it so I could tell her I did and this is exactly what happened in it. 

    At that point, I knew I liked her and wanted her close, closer than a friend.

    Damilola: Yeah, we bonded over Mount Zion movies and had a long “getting to know each other” period.

    But how I really knew I liked him was when we were done talking over the phone one night, and I said, “Bye”. His response was, “Don’t ever tell me bye, only goodnight.” We paused for several seconds, and I remember smiling and thinking, “This guy is so sweet.”

    When did you guys finally meet?

    Damilola: Our first meeting was our first date in 2023. We attended a Beautiful Nubia concert. I’m a huge fan of their music, so you can imagine how much I was looking forward to the date. He suggested it and bought tickets because I’d mentioned how much I liked them.

    How did it go?

    Shola: We met at a restaurant to talk before the show started at 5 p.m. We’d been communicating for about a month before the date, and the vibe matched when we met, which was great. 

    Damilola: After eating, we laughed and talked so much that we lost track of time and booked a ride to take us to the venue at the very last minute. 

    In the car, we took pictures together and the conversation was flowing effortlessly when I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. He asked if I wanted to go home. I said no. We were almost at the event, and I didn’t want to ruin things. 

    Don’t tell me things got ruined anyway

    Damilola: We got to the venue early at almost 5:30 p.m. Beautiful Nubia’s band was playing with barely 50 people present, so we got spots in the front row. Shortly after we sat down, I felt a sharper pain in my stomach and we had to step out of the venue. I began to feel dizzy and realised I couldn’t walk properly. The pain became so intense that my legs were shaking. 

    Shola: At this point, I was scared.

    Damilola: I sat on a concrete slab already crying silently when I felt the urge to use the restroom. We were surrounded by parked cars and barricades, and I couldn’t stand up without messing up my clothes. 

    An agbero approached us to ask what was happening. Shola explained the situation, and I begged them to let me relieve myself right there. I couldn’t take it. I was reacting to the food we’d just eaten. I barely eat out because my stomach reacts to the most random things. 

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

    So you had to poop in public on your first date?

    Damilola: Not exactly. Shola said he wouldn’t let that happen.

    Shola: Another man came to ask what’s up and offered to let her use the restroom in his house, a five-minute walk away. 

    Damilola: As we walked to the man’s house, I felt something leave my body and collapsed on the floor. 

    Ahhh. I’m so sorry

    Damilola: Shola was almost in tears, and I felt really bad for him. I was so embarrassed. 

    He carried me on his back as we rushed to the man’s house. I used his toilet the first time but didn’t feel better. While we were booking a ride to go to the nearest pharmacy, I felt the stomach pain again. I was so scared it would drop right there that I begged Shola to let me use the drainage in front of the man’s house. I was that desperate. 

    Shola: Thankfully, the man let her use his toilet again instead. 

    How did you guys get through such a first date?

    Damilola: I was weak and tired, but we went to a pharmacy and then returned to the event. 

    He asked me a billion times if I was sure we should go back. When we got there and the place was already full, he immediately grabbed two plastic chairs stacked at the back and cleaned them for us. I felt bad for traumatising him, but he was super caring throughout. And we had an amazing time.

    Shola: I realised that God just wanted to test how much I’d love her, how ready we were to be together. Because right after that, we both knew this was it. We’re getting married to each other.

    Damilola: There’s been no doubt since that day that the relationship would work. And thank God, so far we’ve not been wrong.

    What happened after this date?

    Damilola: I told my sister and friends what happened, and they didn’t believe me. When the Twitter thread I posted about it went viral, I’d send the funny comments to him, and we’d all laugh. 

    We continued talking, and he’s remained caring throughout. One time when I was sick, I told him I hadn’t eaten. He came all the way to my house when I was still staying at Magboro, brought me amala and some fruits. I remember eating the apple and telling him it tasted somehow.

    Shola: We kept going out together and getting deeper into each other’s lives. I met her roommate, Aduke, that same week, and we started meeting all our friends shortly after. Before I knew it, they were all calling me “Shollylupitini”, her nickname for me.

    When did things become official?

    Damilola: Three days after the date, I invited him to my house and it just happened in the middle of a conversation. He stopped and looked at me. I asked why he was staring, and he said, ”Will you be my girlfriend with marriage in view?” I was shocked and said yes immediately.

    My flatmate, Aduke, had made fried rice and turkey for his visit, so we just sat and ate, and they bonded over the fact that they both graduated from OAU.

    Shola: That night, she gave some of her friends my number, and they called to congratulate me.

    Damilola: Three months after the date, he asked to come see my parents. I was like, “What for?” It felt too serious to me at the time, but I told my dad and we invited him over. He came with some of his friends, and we all had a meal with my parents at home. 

    After that meeting, my dad was so happy. He kept saying, “I like that boy. He’s so cool and calm.” The next thing, he was asking me to come meet his mum in Berger.

    Ouuu

    Damilola: I was like, “Why?” I was so scared.

    Shola: I just wanted everyone who was important to me to know her. I was so excited about her, and I still am. My mum knew about her and was eager to meet her too.

    Damilola: We went to see her together, and she cooked for us. I remember thinking the food was so delicious. It was semo and efo-riro. I even asked if I could have more to take home, and she willingly packed me a big bowl. She was so nice to me.

    Before Shola even proposed, I’d call every so often to check up on her. I could just show up at her house, and she’d be so happy to see me.

    Speaking of the proposal, how did that go?

    Shola: Like I said, from that first date, I knew she was the one. Every time we remember what happened, we’re able to laugh and make jokes about it. We promised we’d tell our kids the funny story of how we met.

    As the months passed, my feelings for her didn’t fade at all. I just had to decide at some point that I wanted to take a bold step.

    Damilola: I actually saw the ring weeks before the proposal; he doesn’t know this. I knew he’d propose, but I just didn’t know when.

    [ad]

    How did you find the ring, Damilola?

    Damilola: I was at his place one day. This was towards the end of September 2023. I entered his room, and he just said, “Don’t go near that bag.” I was like, “Ehn? What could be in there?” So once he left the room, I went straight to the bag and saw the ring. I even tried it on and took a picture. But I later deleted it.

    Shola: Wow. Wow. Wow.

    Damilola: The day he finally proposed, on October 7th, he got my most stubborn friend, Bimpe, to bully me to get my nails and hair done and dress up to go eat at a restaurant with her. At first, I was like, “Don’t disturb me jo.” I was at a low point in my life, so I was ready to just throw on a random dress and some slippers. But she can be very assertive.

    Shola: That’s why I got her to do it.

    Damilola: I did my best and got there. I was even texting to check in on him because he had an important meeting. She kept moving me in different angles to take pictures at the restaurant and ordered food even though I said I wasn’t hungry. 

    That’s how the food came and the waiter opened it and I saw a chocolate writing that said, “Will you marry me?” I just froze. I turned around and saw him on both knees. Omo, tears straight. He read out a poem he wrote and brought out the ring.

    Shola: Do you know what she said to me? “Ko si bi tama tiesi” (I don’t have anywhere else to push you to). We had our civil wedding last week; our main wedding is in June.

    That sounds beautiful. Was there ever a time you felt unsure about the relationship, though?

    Damilola: I had a dark moment last August when my job was affecting me psychologically and I was determined to resign. No one understood. My dad called to beg me not to leave. Shola kept reminding me that there were no jobs out there.

    Shola: I didn’t want her to have to struggle with unemployment. But I wasn’t really listening to how she felt.

    Damilola: I listened to them for about two months then I quit without telling anyone. It was after I submitted my letter that I called to tell him I’d done it.

    Shola: I felt bad that she kept it from me, but I supported her decision.

    What happened after?

    Shola: She was so irritable during that period. It was obvious that any mention of a job or money annoyed her so I avoided that. But I saw how hard she worked to make some money off her writing side gigs and also apply for better jobs. 

    Two months later, she had a new job that was a lot better than the last in terms of everything.

    Damilola: When I got the new one, everyone started saying, “Thank God you didn’t stay back at that other place.” Funny enough, Shola proposed just a week before they called me to start this new job.

    Neat. Have you guys ever had a major fight?

    Shola: Before we started dating, she really proved hard to get as women do. But I stayed persistent, calling and checking up on her, expressing my intentions. That caused friction at many points. 

    I won’t say we’ve ever had a major one. Even in arguments, we made a promise to always settle on the same day. Even if one person is asleep, we wake them up to settle any issues.

    Damilola: Before we met at the concert, there was a night I complained to him about my former workplace. I told him about an incident with a patient, and he said, “Customers are always right.” I got so angry. I was like, “I don’t think I like you. I’ll never like you when you say stuff like this.” 

    That’s actually what led to that story I mentioned earlier when I said, “Bye” and he called me back to say, “Don’t ever tell me bye.” That was a memorable argument that ended pretty well. We never go to bed upset with each other, so I can’t even remember a particular situation that I’d call a minor or major fight between us. 

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

    Damilola: 10 over 10 minus nothing. We’re best friends, and I love the way he carries my matter on his head.

    Shola: I won’t say 10. I’ll say 8 because it’ll only get better. But now, it’s 8, which is still an A.

    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.

    RELATED: Love Life: My Parents Don’t Know She Has HIV

  • I Cried When I Couldn’t Run Away after an Argument with My Husband

    I Cried When I Couldn’t Run Away after an Argument with My Husband

    If you’ve been on X (FKA Twitter) in the last 48 hours, you’d have seen a range of responses to a user’s question “What’s your first reality check after getting married?”

    I was looking to speak with married people to share their experiences when I found Gbemisola*(30). She talks about her struggle with conflict resolution and how being married now forces her to confront issues head on.

    As Told to Adeyinka

    I’ve been married for two years now, and it’s been a personal learning curve. The things you have to stomach for the sake of love? God, abeg.

    I met my husband in university in 2015. We were in the same department but different years, so we saw ourselves a lot in school. But being around each other didn’t stop at that.

    After we became official, I started spending more time at his hostel — I enjoyed his company and I didn’t even like my hostel. I had nosy roommates and privacy was completely out the window. The few times he visited, I had to talk my roommates into giving us some privacy, and I didn’t like that.

    Because of my roommates’ situation, it made more sense to spend time at his place. I eventually moved to his hostel completely and only went to my hostel when I needed a change of clothes.

    It was sweet in the early stages. We both did most of the cooking, watched movies together, read together and went to school together on days when we had similar schedules. Then, about six months into the relationship, the fights started to happen, showing me a version of myself I wasn’t aware of.

    It’s hard to remember the details now, but our first fight was over something so insignificant. We’d gotten into an argument over school work, and I didn’t like the way he went about proving my argument was wrong. I felt like he wanted a “gotcha” moment at my expense. I kept to myself for the rest of the evening, even though he kept bothering me. The first thing I did the following morning was to pack some of my clothes and return to my hostel. While I was away, he kept asking why I left because of a little argument. But I stayed in my hostel for two weeks.

    [ad]

    As our relationship went by,”running away” became my approach to conflict resolution. If we had any fight, I was out of his space that day or the next, and I made it a point not to return until weeks had passed. He hated this so much. He was always like “You can’t just up and leave because we have issues. Is this how you’ll do when we get married?” And my response to him was always “Well, we aren’t married, are we?”

    I remember a similar incident that happened while I was serving in Lagos. At the time, I switched between his place and my sister’s. One day, we had a fight, and in my usual pattern, I kept to myself. By the next morning I picked out clothes from the wardrobe and prepared to head over to my sister’s. He noticed me packing my stuff  and he just said “If you’re leaving because of our fight, I won’t stop you. But just know that if you walk out of that door, you’re walking out of my life and I won’t stop you.”

    It was the first time he reacted that way, so a part of me shuddered at the thought of “walking out of his life”. Obviously, the stubborn girl that I am, I didn’t concede. Instead, I lied and told him I only wanted to drop off some clothes at my sisters and I’ll be back at night.

    I don’t know why but that experience — his words particularly — stayed in my head for a long time and haunted me whenever I wrestled with the urge to leave his place after a fight.

    Now, what did I do?

    I started spacing the time I left. Instead of leaving the next day after a fight, I’d tell him I’m heading home in a couple of days. We both knew why my visit home was happening at that particular time, but we never talked about it.

    Fast forward to 2022, we tied the knot and officially became husband and wife. People have all sorts of worries going into marriage — Who handles the bills, who cooks, who should take care of the chores, etc. But for someone like me, whose coping mechanism during conflict was taking off, my only fear was the realisation that I couldn’t just take off as I wanted anymore.

    It didn’t help that my parents, relatives, and other older folks made it a point to drum it into my ears. “You can’t run away from your husband’s house o. If you have issues, stay there with him until you resolve it”.

    We barely had issues in the first year of our marriage. Everything worked perfectly, and there were hardly any major fights. Yes, we had minor arguments, but nothing serious enough to warrant my desire to flee.

    Then we had our first big fight in the second year. It was money related. After we got married, we decided to save together without necessarily opening a joint account, and we agreed to save a minimum of ₦50k monthly. It could be more, but never less.

    By the second year, we had saved quite a sum and I wanted some gadgets for the kitchen. My husband felt we should wait until we hit our savings goals, but I told him the items were on sale and it made sense to take the deal. He remained adamant, but I went ahead to make the purchase anyway. He was furious on the day the items were delivered and we had a little shouting match.

    I was livid that night and wanted so badly to be away from him. I think I considered going to an overnight cinema just to be out of the house, but I couldn’t find any. We ignored each other for the rest of the day, and I cried myself to sleep that night. To be honest, it wasn’t the fight that made me cry. I mean, it wasn’t the first time we fought. It was the realisation that I couldn’t up and leave like I did when we were dating.

    I suspected he also knew I couldn’t just leave if I wanted, and it slowed his eagerness to apologise. Back when we were dating, I’d have gotten calls and texts from him after I moved out, but in this case, he took his time before apologising.

    To be honest, it’s a trope we’re both navigating and it hasn’t been an easy one.

    Now, we are both intentional about finding ways to solve our issues as quickly as possible without the silent treatment or one person feeling like a prisoner in their home.  The truth is, I love my husband, and I miss him terribly every second I’m away from him during a fight or an argument. I know he feels the same way.

    READ NEXT: We Got Married So We Can Be Gay in Peace

  • My Husband’s Family Has Attacked Me Spiritually for Years

    My Husband’s Family Has Attacked Me Spiritually for Years

    What’s it like navigating a marriage in which you have to endure disapproval from your spouse’s family — especially in a family-centred society like ours? That’s been Ese’s* reality for the last ten years.

    She talks about enduring hate from her in-laws, believing her previous miscarriages are linked to spiritual attacks and how she navigates her situation.  

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Freepik

    There’s a saying popular among Nigerians: “You don’t marry the man, you marry his family”. It means that family approval, specifically from the in-laws, is necessary for a marriage to work.

    I didn’t have the approval of my husband, Yinka’s family when we got married in 2014, but I didn’t think it would be a big deal. After all, Yinka* loved me and insisted we didn’t need his family to be happy together. 

    Funny enough, I’d known Yinka’s family long before we got married. My mum and Yinka’s mum were friends. My mum sold women’s shoes and Yinka’s mum was her good customer. As a teacher, she was always buying shoes. 

    I used to help my mum at her shop whenever I was home from school, and it sometimes meant following her to drop shoes at her customers’ houses. That was how I first met Yinka. I was 12 years old, he was 14, and he was my first crush. I remember drawing his name on my hand with a biro and scrubbing it off immediately after so my dad wouldn’t catch me.

    But Yinka and I didn’t become friends until four years later when I resumed at the same university he attended. My mum had told his mum about my uni admission and both mums decided he should help me secure off-campus accommodation since he knew the area better.

    I still liked him, and it looked like he liked me too. We hung out regularly. By my third year in school, we officially started dating. He graduated some months after we started our relationship, and it was at his graduation party that his mum figured out we were dating. 

    His mum had brought coolers of party rice — normal for university graduation ceremonies — and I was running up and down helping to share the rice and take pictures. She knew me, of course. But she realised my running up and down was more than friendship. She called Yinka that night to ask if we were dating, and he said yes. Her response was, “Omo Igbo? Why?” I’m not even Igbo, but I guess it means we’re all the same to her.

    Yinka thought she was joking and laughed it off. She also didn’t pursue the issue. I guess she thought it was just a fling. But she realised he was serious when he took me to visit her “officially” a year later in 2011. That’s when the problem started.

    The thing is, Yinka is the last born of five children. Plus, he’s the only boy and his dad died when he was a baby. His mum had it tough raising them, and for some reason, she thought his marrying from another tribe — specifically Igbo — meant she wouldn’t “eat the fruits of her labours”. According to her, Igbo women only know how to eat their husband’s money, lack respect and also won’t let the man’s family come close. 

    Of course, I didn’t know these were her reasons then. I know now because I’ve heard it repeated to me several times.

    She had a bold frown on her face all through that first visit. This was the same person who used to dash me money as a teenager. After Yinka and I left, she called him on the phone and told him to end the relationship. He told me about it, and I innocently thought I just needed to show her how hardworking I was.

    I decided I’d start visiting her every weekend to help her out with chores. The second time I visited, she asked me if I didn’t have anything to do for my mother at my own house. No one had to tell me to stop going. 

    His sisters also snubbed all my attempts to be close to them. I’d call, send birthday text messages and even visit to help out during major events, but it was obvious they didn’t like me. Even then, I didn’t think the disapproval was serious. My parents liked Yinka and our mums still talked.


    [ad]


    In 2013, Yinka proposed. 

    The night of the proposal, his mum called mine and told her there was no way the marriage would happen. It turned into a shouting match, and my mum called me that same night to return the ring. That night was so dramatic. How many women have you heard say they cried all through on the day of their proposal?

    Yinka had to take the issue to his mum’s pastor. The man spoke to her and told us to go ahead with the wedding planning. Yinka’s mum respected her pastor and kept quiet. My parents were another matter. They didn’t understand why I wanted to die there when the man’s family didn’t want me.

    In the end, the wedding happened because I got pregnant. Me, my mum and husband, kept it from my dad because he would’ve never allowed the wedding to happen. 

    My husband’s immediate family didn’t attend the traditional wedding in my village. It was his uncle and some people from church who attended. On the white wedding day, my mother-in-law brought her own live band and divided the reception hall into two. Our DJ was playing music on one side, and her live band was playing on the other side. The DJ had to just take the cue and stop the music. Yinka’s sisters and mum also refused to dance with us when it was time for the husband’s family to dance with the couple. Instead, they went to dance in front of the live band as their friends sprayed them with money. 

    Yinka just kept telling me to “calm down. They’ve done their worst.”

    I should thank my in-laws for drawing me closer to God because these people started attacking me two days after the wedding. I had a dream where one of Yinka’s sisters hit me with a cane. I woke up with a stomach ache and had a miscarriage three days later. 

    I thought it was a coincidence, but I had three more miscarriages over the next three years, and they always happened after a dream where I’d see someone in Yinka’s family. When I noticed the pattern after the third miscarriage, I told my mum and we started visiting pastors and attending prayers. I prayed o. Almost every weekend, I was at one church or the other for a vigil or deliverance session.

    I have two children now, and both times, I fasted almost all through the first three months of pregnancy. I also didn’t tell Yinka until the third month because I didn’t want him to tell his family. He didn’t even know the spiritual battle I was facing. I only told him about the first dream. His response was, “Are you saying my sister is a witch?” So, I just focused on winning the battle in prayers. 

    I still see his family members in my dreams sometimes, but I always give it to them hot hot. I don’t joke with my prayers. 

    We moved to a different state in 2019 and now only see them during family occasions where they give me weird looks and taunting words. Me, I just mind myself. 

    I also don’t report them to my husband because what use is it if he starts fighting with his family? Won’t that prove their reason for hating me in the first place?

    I wonder about the reason for all the attacks and hate. It’s not like Yinka is one millionaire. He’s just a civil servant, and I contribute equally to the home’s expenses. Sometimes, I even convince him to send them money so it wouldn’t be like I’m the only one “eating his money”. But I guess you can do no good in the eyes of people who are already determined to hate you. 

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: As a Woman, I Shouldn’t Be the Breadwinner

  • Love Life: My Parents Don’t Know She Has HIV

    Love Life: My Parents Don’t Know She Has HIV

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Ben: We met at work in 2012. I immediately liked her the first time I saw her at the office reception, but when I asked her out, she insisted she didn’t date colleagues. As soon as she left the job the next year, I called her and asked her out again. 

    She said no straight up.

    Debby: I wasn’t dating at the time. I was 23. I kept to myself a lot, focusing on my work and career. 

    I’d also recently found out I was HIV positive, so I didn’t know how to go about having that conversation with potential boyfriends. I just kept off.

    Wow. How did you convince her to give you a chance, Ben?

    Ben: I just kept calling her over some months, and we became friends.

    Debby: We talked about old office gist until that faded when most of the people I knew had left. Then he’d call to check on me once in a while.

    Ben: She refused to let me in, so I tried to date other people. I was with another girl for about four months. It didn’t work out. Sometime after that break-up, I saw a video she posted with her friends on Facebook. They were at a birthday party. I swear I watched the short video of her laughing and dancing like 30 times. I don’t even know what I was looking for. 

    Love?

    Ben: Funny.

    Finally, I called her the next day. I planned out exactly how I’d get her to meet me. At this point, I’d noticed she only wanted to talk about work-related things, so I invited her to a career development fair a popular company was hosting at the Federal Palace Hotel.

    Debby: I actually told him I wasn’t going but changed my mind last minute. I was just bored on the day of the event.

    Ben: We bonded well, so I thought I’d made progress in my quest to date her. But once we went our separate ways that day, she stopped taking my calls.

    Why, Debby?

    Debby: I knew he liked me and just wasn’t ready for that.

    Ben: I sent her a lot of text messages until I realised I was beginning to look like a creep, so I gave her space for about two months. 

    One random day, she texted, “Hi”. I remember smiling so wide when I saw the message pop up on my phone. I expected myself to roll my eyes or hiss. She left me on “read” for two months. But there I was.

    Debby: I was lonely. Even though I didn’t reply to all those messages, I’d scroll through them on random days, reading them at a go. Sometimes, I’d cry a little because of how sweet his messages were. 

    Aww. Do you mind sharing your HIV story?

    Debby: When I was younger, I always imagined I’d tell anyone who had to know that I contracted it through an infected needle or negligent hospital. But the few people I’ve told, I’ve told them the truth. 

    It was through unprotected sex with a neighbour while I was in uni in 2010. I thought all I needed was Postinor after and I’d be fine. We did it a couple of times before I even found out.

    Ben: After weeks of talking and texting, she told me about it. I was just weak and in denial for a while. She told me she was HIV positive and my response was, “Are you sure?” She tried to explain that she’d gotten the diagnosis and had been on medications for over four years, and I was still like, “But did you get a second opinion? Did you do multiple tests in different hospitals?” I feel so ashamed now.

    Did these responses rub you the wrong way, Debby?

    Debby: They were annoying, but I was also happy his caring voice didn’t change or go cold, or that he didn’t just make an excuse to end the call. Which is what I expected to happen.

    Ben: I won’t lie. I slowed down on trying to date her after that. I started thinking and overthinking. How can someone so beautiful and smart get HIV? Then I’d feel guilty for thinking stuff like that. Mehn, I was a mess for a while.

    Debby: I fully expected him not to call me ever again. So when he didn’t call for some days, I was sad but fine. 

    Then one day, he started texting me “Good morning angel” every morning. He didn’t do more than that for several weeks, but that small thing always made me feel seen.

    How did things move to the next level?

    Ben: I was confused for a while until I moved on with someone else. We dated for like 11 months.

    Debby: I met other people too, but I never even felt comfortable enough to tell them what’s up. Most of them weren’t patient once I wasn’t eager to come hang out with them and all. 

    In the meantime, I tried to stay healthy, and my doctor also counselled me that I didn’t have to be single for life because of it. He’d give me these pamphlets to read, at least four every time I visited. I always read them out of curiosity but never really felt I’d apply them.

    Ben: After this relationship didn’t work out, I started thinking about her more. While I was dating, I kept up our texts and occasional calls. I always wanted to make sure she was alright, constantly worried that something bad would happen and I’d be the last to hear about it because I wasn’t really in her life. I hadn’t even met any of her friends talk less of family at this point.

    One day, I googled “Is it safe to date someone with HIV?” Even as I typed the words in, I felt ashamed. I could imagine her watching me do it and getting offended. I closed the page almost immediately. I called her up some days later and asked if she’d like to meet up for drinks. This was in 2015.

    Did you meet up for drinks?

    Ben: We did. For the first few hours, we ate and drank and gisted. I told her I’d broken up with my girlfriend. After that, I scaredly told her I still wanted to date her. It’d been so long since we talked about dating. 

    Debby: I told him he was crazy. Had he spoken with anyone? No one would let him date me.

    Ben: I hadn’t told a soul that she has the virus. Till today, none of my family or friends know. Only her parents know, actually. I’m glad we did it that way to avoid unnecessary drama.

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

    Has keeping this a secret from them been hard?

    Ben: Surprisingly, no. 

    My parents told me the day before my wedding that what goes on in my marriage shouldn’t be shared with outsiders anyhow, not even them. I’m taking their advice.

    Debby: It’s such a private information. I’m glad it was his idea to keep it from them so I wouldn’t have had to make such a deep request. This really deepened our bond actually. 

    It’s also not something that ever comes up, like, “What’s your HIV status?” Once we made the decision not to tell anyone who didn’t already know, e.g., my parents, we just forgot about it.

    Ben: Maybe it helps that I’ve never been that close to my parents and siblings. We’re not a close-knit family, and I know they wouldn’t be understanding.

    Right. So how did that dating conversation end?

    Debby: I didn’t think he understood what he was talking about, so I rudely called a cab and started leaving.

    Ben: Before she left, I told her all she had to do was educate me on the risks. I needed to know the risks so I could decide if I could take them. That’s how later that week, she sent a dispatch to me with a whole bunch of pamphlets.

    Debby: I sent them to discourage him, so he could stop raising my hopes. But I spoke with my mum about it, and she said it was the best I could’ve done. My mum was my rock during the period right after my diagnosis. She judged and shamed me at first. But I don’t know what happened, after some days, she switched and became more understanding.

    Ben: I read the papers and understood that it was 100% possible to have a relationship without me getting the virus or her passing it on to our kids. That’s all I needed to know. I was still scared about dating her, but I had a little hope that it could be something beautiful. 

    It wasn’t something I jumped into. I thought about it for days and days, but I didn’t tell anybody. I knew if I did, I’d wake up from my romantic dreams.

    When did you finally know you had to dive in?

    Ben: March 23, 2016. It was a Wednesday. I was at work, and I saw someone who looked just like her walk past the building. I immediately took out my phone and called her. She wasn’t the one, but she was in such a good mood when she picked up. That’s how we ended up speaking for more than 30 minutes while I was on duty. 

    Debby: We spoke about me being on leave and just lying in bed listening to music. I had a trip the next day because a close cousin of mine was getting married. We talked about travelling by road, the latest update on the expressways, everything and nothing really.

    Ben: It was during this call I knew I loved her. I wanted to disappear and appear with her in her room on her bed. 

    That night, I called her again and said I wanted to be her boyfriend and future husband. I wanted to take care of her forever. Just listening to her gentle voice talking for hours made me weak. I was far gone.

    How did she take your proclamation of love?

    Debby: I cried and cried and that’s how the call ended. The next day, he was at my house seeing me and my family off.

    Ben: When she was gone, we spoke over the phone throughout. I tried to get her to talk to me about what life’s like for her, the medication she takes and all that.

    Debby: One thing I loved was that he never once asked me how I contracted it. That made me feel safe and unjudged. 

    When I returned home, we started attending some of my counselling and treatment sessions together.

    Ben: You’d be incredibly surprised by the number of Nigerians who have this virus. It’s way more common than you think. God help those who are still having unprotected sex in this day and age.

    [ad]

    Right? But did it ever get hard, dating as a mixed-status couple?

    Debby: I noticed we weren’t as free with simple things like hugging and kissing as we probably would’ve been if I didn’t have HIV — mostly my fault. I didn’t want to endanger him in any way, even though I knew hugging wouldn’t hurt. I guess I was still healing from my last intimate relationship causing the problem in the first place.

    Ben: Our first year together was all about talking and spending quality time with each other. Dates, remembering each other on special days and lots of gifting. It took that long for us to trust each other enough to kiss. But it honestly didn’t feel like it.

    What are some precautions you’ve had to take to stay safe?

    Ben: First and foremost, condoms are a must. I also got on PrEP sometime in 2018. That’s pretty much it. She takes her own daily drugs, so we’re good. The only thing is these drugs aren’t cheap AT ALL, especially with the crazy inflation, but God is helping us.

    Debby: We have to plan the costs as we’re taking money aside for rent. That’s how we manage it.

    Anyway, it was a long journey to unlearning all the fears in our heads. I wasn’t willing to try anything too out of the box when it came to sex because my greatest fear was always that I’d infect him. I wanted to avoid that at all costs. That affected our sex life, especially after we got married.

    Ben: She’s undetectable now, so we’re very relaxed these days. Oral sex is on the table. But we’ve decided to stick to condoms.

    What was the journey to getting married like?

    Ben: Remember that I’d already technically proposed when I asked her to be my girlfriend? So even though she tried to joke about it that time, we always had conversations with our eventual marriage as the bottom line. 

    Debby: It happened so naturally. It really did feel like our dating period was just our pre-wedding period. I think we were just trying to be settled on how the virus would affect our lives together and how well we could afford, financially, to be married. 

    So it was three years of getting comfortable with each other, understanding my condition and working hard at our jobs.

    Ben: October 2019, I bought a ring and proposed. We had our wedding right before the pandemic, in January 2020.

    Were there new struggles that came with marriage?

    Debby: It was tough wanting to make out all the time during the lockdown while staying safe. That was stressful but in a funny and cute way.

    Ben: The lockdown actually helped us ease up at first. Then we let the fear get into our heads again soon after. In this stage of our marriage, we made up for our loss of intimacy with a lot of conversation and constant cuddling. For a long time, we’d just skip foreplay and go right to sex.

    Debby: After we had our baby in 2022, our sex life got much better.

    In what ways?

    Debby: For one thing, I was much hornier, which came as a shock to both of us.

    Ben: Yeah. And something about increasing our family made us feel more connected, I think.

    Debby: I get what you mean. Like emotionally. Also, we’ve spent so much time together just taking care of Baby G that we feel like such a team. I’m not sure how that translates into a deeper connection in bed, but it so does. 

    Maybe fellow new parents would understand.

    What was conceiving like with compulsory condoms, though?

    Ben: It’s not cute at all, but we use a syringe.

    Debby: It’s called insemination

    When we realised we wanted to start making a family but we’d not talked much about how that would happen, we went to my doctor, and he guided us through insemination during my ovulations. We started doing it ourselves at home after the first two months — you just ejaculate into a big needle-less syringe then inject it into the vagina. 

    It took a couple of tries before I conceived, but it was an exciting time.

    Ben: Now, because she has an undetectable viral load, we might not need to do that anymore. We’re still talking about it sha.

    Neat. What was your first major fight about?

    Debby: Hmm. That was during our eternal talking period. 

    I think he said I was just being stubborn. It was over the phone. I was so upset he tried to make me sound frivolous because I didn’t want to give him a chance for no reason. Meanwhile, I was dying in silence trying to deal with this new, permanent, negative development in my life. I screamed at him, cut the call and ignored him for about a week. I don’t think you could block people at that time.

    Ben: That reaction makes so much sense now. I didn’t know she was going through things. I was young. 

    After she screamed and cut the call, I was like, “This girl is so rude and spoilt.” I feel so ashamed now. I was so sure I wouldn’t talk to her again. But some days later, I was still thinking about her. I was curious why she was so angry because of one offhand statement. She didn’t seem like someone who’d have a temper.

    Debby: He started texting me after like two days, and I was like, “Can’t this one just give up?” He was so stressful, honestly. 

    But I realise now that he’s just an earnest person who knows what he wants and goes after it. He’s like that with everything in his life, and he’s taught me to be like that too.

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

    Ben: 10. I’m glad I took a chance with us even though it seemed so impossible at the time.

    Debby: 10. I’m glad I opened my heart to you. It’s been so many ups and downs, but you’ve been such a good partner in crime. Thank you so much.

    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.

    YOU’LL LIKE THIS TOO: Love Life: We’ve Stayed Married Through 36 Years and Bankruptcy

  • We Celebrated Oneness and Community at Strings Attached

    We Celebrated Oneness and Community at Strings Attached

    On Saturday, May 11, 2024, Zikoko, in partnership with OneBank by Sterling, brought Lagos to life with an electrifying festival of music, games and camaraderie at Muri Okunola Park. Strings Attached was a celebration of oneness, friendship and love, uniting people from all walks of life under one vibrant canopy of joy.

    From the moment the gates opened at 4 p.m., the air was charged with excitement despite the heavy downpour earlier in the day. Friends, families and lovers streamed in, eager to experience the magic of Strings Attached. And magic it was indeed.

    Live performances from our music faves

    The heart of Strings Attached beat with the rhythm of Lagos culture, pulsating through the performances of some of our most talented artists. As night fell, Johnny Drille, Fave, Qing Madi, Dwin the Stoic, Aramide, and more, graced the stage, serenading the crowd with soulful melodies and infectious beats. Each performance was a testament to the richness and diversity of Nigerian music, captivating the audience and inspiring moments of shared joy and connection.

    Fun, fashion and prizes

    But Strings Attached wasn’t just about the music; it was about forging new connections and strengthening existing ones. The festival buzzed with activities designed to spark friendships and deepen bonds. Speed dating sessions provided an opportunity for singles to mingle, while games and pretty photo booths at the “love garden” brought all the cool kids in the coolest fits together making fun content and spreading camaraderie. Whether they came with their squad or flew solo, Strings Attached ensured there was something for everyone.

    Let’s not forget the thrilling competitions that kept the adrenaline pumping and the laughter flowing. From interactive challenges to spin-the-wheel giveaways, lucky winners walked away with awesome prizes, adding an extra layer of excitement.

    The refreshments and their vendors

    No festival is complete without delicious food and refreshing drinks, and Strings Attached delivered on all fronts. Local vendors like Ansabari Food, King Glab Cuisine, Sawari Cocktails, Coco Berry Treats, Kingla, Uso Ndu and more served up mouthwatering meals that ranged from traditional Nigerian delicacies like jollof, nkwobi, palm wine, small chops to international treats like waffles, barbeque, stirfry and fries. With drinks flowing freely, the party never stopped.

    Our partners did giveaway…

    They made it a top priority to treat festivalgoers to fun activities and freebies and made sure they had the best time possible.

    OneBank by Sterling played a pivotal role in bringing Strings Attached to life. As the event’s primary partner, OneBank’s commitment to community-building and empowerment shone through every aspect of the festival. From offering free tickets to all attendees to hosting engaging activities at the One Experience Centre and giving out free iced zobo, OneBank created an immersive experience that went beyond banking. Their presence added depth to the festival’s message of oneness, showcasing how tangible and intangible links can foster strong communities. 

    Indomie, a beloved household name in Nigeria, brought a taste of nostalgia and comfort to Strings Attached with their delicious noodles. As one of the event’s partners, Indomie treated attendees to fun activities and free noodle meals. Their presence not only satisfied appetites but also evoked fond memories and brought people together over a shared love for good food and good times.

    Flying Fish infused Strings Attached with a refreshing burst of flavour, enhancing the festival’s vibrant atmosphere with free cups of beer. As a partner of the event, Flying Fish ensured that attendees stayed cool and hydrated throughout the day, offering a welcome respite from the Lagos heat. From zesty lemon to tropical fruit flavours, their selection of drinks catered to every taste. With Flying Fish by their side, festival-goers danced, laughed and celebrated with enthusiasm, savouring every sip and embracing the spirit of joy and spontaneity that defines the Flying Fish brand.

    CafeOne brought a touch of sophistication and elegance to Strings Attached, elevating the festival experience with their premium coffee and gourmet treats. As a partner of the event, CafeOne offered attendees a chance to indulge in a moment of luxury amidst the festivities, providing a cosy oasis where they could relax and recharge. From expertly crafted espressos to decadent pastries, Strings Attached became not just a community festival, but a multi-sensory celebration of life’s simple pleasures.

    What festivalgoers are saying

    “Organise this type of event more often”

    “I’m mostly not a social person and was sceptical of how much I would enjoy the event if I attended but I’m really happy I did, it was so much fun and I’m grateful I got to enjoy all that for free thanks to ZIKOKO and Onebank.”

    “I don’t know if this is the first edition, but it did not feel like it. The event was really good and well organised! I had a great time. From the organisation to the artiste line-up; I would give it a solid 9/10. That DJ was fire!!!!!! She’s who she thinks she is.”

    “Best outdoor/ park party I have ever attended. Onebank team did a great job.”

    In a world where division and discord often dominate the headlines, Strings Attached served as a powerful reminder of the importance of unity and togetherness in multiple ways. As the sun set on Muri Okunola Park and the final notes of music faded into the night led by N.A.T.E’s final hyping, the spirit of Strings Attached lingered on. Memories were made, connections were forged and hearts were lifted. 

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  • As a Woman, I Shouldn’t Be the Breadwinner

    As a Woman, I Shouldn’t Be the Breadwinner

    Romoke* (32) has been her home’s primary breadwinner since she got married in 2018. At first, she didn’t think much of it, but over the years, she’s come to realise this dynamic isn’t normal. 

    She shares why she can’t leave and how she’s made it a priority to advise other women not to tow the same path.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by FreePik

    Love can push you to do foolish things. Now, when I get the opportunity to talk to single ladies about relationships, I tell them to shine their eyes. Love won’t feed you; is there money? But the truth is, I didn’t take to advice either.

    Let me tell you my story so you know what I mean. My mum was the sole breadwinner when I was growing up. My dad was what you’d call a sperm donor with audacity. He was a mechanic who hardly dropped money at home, but he’d come home at night to demand two pieces of meat in his food. My mum paid rent, school fees and bought clothes for all her four children with the money she made as a fabric trader. 

    My family’s dynamic didn’t seem strange to me. I never saw or heard my mum complain about providing for almost everything, including my dad’s demands. I grew up in a neighbourhood where most of the mothers had their shops and different hustles to take care of their children. This meant that I didn’t have anything else to compare my mum’s situation to. It was my normal.

    As a child, whenever I went to my mum to ask for money to buy something, she’d say, “When you start making money, you’ll know that they don’t just spend money anyhow”. It always confused me. I want to buy sweets, and you’re saying I’m spending money anyhow. It made me start dreaming of making my own money, so I wouldn’t have to answer to anyone. 

    Of course, I became entrepreneurial early. I’d take my elder sister’s pictures to my secondary school to show my seniors and charge them ₦30 for our home’s landline so they could speak with her. My sister and I used to share the money equally.

    There’s almost nothing I’ve not tried to make a business out of — selling recharge cards, writing notes for classmates in uni, braiding hair for my friends in the hostel and during NYSC camp and even selling baby clothes at a nearby primary health centre.

    It was during one of my many hustles that I met Dare*, the man who eventually became my husband. It was 2016, and I was selling male clothes and watches on Facebook and WhatsApp, in addition to my 9-5 as an admin officer.

    He was a friend on Facebook, but we never interacted before he slid into my DM to ask about a wristwatch I’d posted earlier that day. He wanted to buy it for someone but wanted it delivered to him first. That’s how we discovered that we lived in the same neighbourhood. We got talking and started dating after we met up at his church.

    There were warning signs. 

    Dare didn’t have a job. He spent all his time at church where he served — still does — as the choirmaster. He also went to sing at other churches, and they’d pay him an honorarium. He didn’t tell me how much, but I guessed it was enough to survive on. He also lived with his parents.

    We didn’t really talk about money. I didn’t care that he’d ask to borrow ₦10k on random occasions or that we hardly went out on dates. I didn’t depend on guys’ money in my previous relationships, so it wasn’t a big deal.

    When I asked Dare about the job thing, he said he was applying but hoping to get something that wouldn’t affect his gospel ministry. Just before we started making wedding plans in 2017, he got a job as a supermarket supervisor. He didn’t tell me his salary, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t think it was my place.

    After our parents agreed on a wedding date, we went to visit his pastor to inform him. The man called me aside and asked if I was sure I knew what I was doing. He said, “Dare doesn’t have a proper job. Why not wait a bit?”

    I defended my husband-to-be. Sure, I wanted him to get better than the supervisor job, but I was also selling clothes and making good money — at least ₦25k weekly. Together, we could pull resources and build a home. But Dare and I hadn’t actually clarified how money would work in our home. I was too in love to care. In my mind, we’d get married and live happily ever after.

    A few weeks after we got married in 2018, Dare quit his supervisor job. They’d refused to permit him to leave work for a week so he could travel to another state for a gospel ministration. So, he chose to leave.

    The same scenario played out a couple more times over the first two years of marriage. He’d get a job and then leave after a few months because he was either tired or felt like it interfered with his passion. Did I mention I paid the rent for the house we lived in? In fact, I paid for everything we needed daily. But I still thought I was being a virtuous wife and didn’t harass him to stick to a job. 

    In 2020, Dare said he wanted to start a business selling musical instruments. He knew I had almost ₦1m in savings and convinced me to give him because we could make double that. So, I gave him. He never started that business.

    We also had our first child around the time I gave him all my savings. I was so broke I couldn’t even buy clothes for my baby. After about six months, I began to ask him about the business. I mean, he’d taken all that money and wasn’t even telling me anything. That caused our biggest fight to date. It was like, how dare I have the audacity to question him? His parents came to settle the matter and I had to apologise to him.


    RELATED: 6 Women on the Burden of Being Breadwinners in Their Families


    I think it was then my eyes started to “clear”. Dare stopped trying to get jobs entirely and would just sit at home watching TV when he wasn’t singing at one church or the other. 

    I reported him to his pastor several times, and he’d call Dare — without telling him I’d talked — and ask him for updates about his job. Dare just gave excuses and the pastor would in turn tell me to be patient with him and pray. I’m sure the man was thinking, “Shebi I told you?”

    We had our second child in 2022, the year I finally admitted to myself that there was nothing normal about our marriage. I listen to sermons and see other couples in our church. The women aren’t the breadwinners. Dare has no intention of earning anything to provide for his family. He has never bought clothes for me and our children. I don’t know if he still gets honorariums from ministering at churches, but I don’t get anything. I still feed him.

    I’ve complained about him not dropping money several times, but it always turns into a huge fight, and I end up apologising. Church leaders can do nothing except advise me to be submissive. My pastor’s wife secretly advised me to save money in an account without my husband’s knowledge. 

    But how much can I save from a clothes business when I still handle all the bills? I can’t let my children starve, right? I’m honestly tired. I now avoid most of my friends at church because how many times will I say I can’t afford aso-ebi or monthly contributions that the married women in church do? Am I even married, in the real sense of the word?

    I feel like everyone in church knows our situation — the choirmaster who does nothing but sings while his wife feeds him — but none of them can call him out because they want to keep up the appearances of a godly home. But what kind of home is this?

    I didn’t know better when I was younger, but I do now. Even the Bible says the man should provide. I’m a woman, I shouldn’t be the breadwinner. But I can’t leave my marriage — that’s a sin. I can only pray that God will touch Dare’s heart and give him a job that allows him to take his place as the head of the house. 

    Until then, the most I can do is advise young single ladies. Love won’t feed you.

    *Names have been changed for anonymity.

    NEXT READ: I’m Tired of Men Wanting to Date Me Out of Pity


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  • Love Life: We’ve Stayed Married Through 36 Years and Bankruptcy

    Love Life: We’ve Stayed Married Through 36 Years and Bankruptcy

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

    What’s your first memory of each other?

    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.

    How did you reconnect?

    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.

    I imagine that at this point you already knew you liked each other

    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.

    What was the relationship like as undergrads back then?

    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.

    Did his graduation change any of that?

    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.

    Why did you decide to leave school, Ruth?

    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.

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

    What was marriage like after an almost whirlwind romance?

    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.

    How did you navigate this stage after just two years of marriage?

    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.

    Did things ever get better?

    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.

    What happened?

    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.

    Oh no

    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.

    How did this affect your relationship?

    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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    Have you had a major fight in your years together?

    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.

    How did you recover from it?

    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.

    What do you think has kept you together for so long considering the ups and downs?

    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.

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

    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

  • I Ruined My Romantic Relationship With My Best Friend

    I Ruined My Romantic Relationship With My Best Friend

    I was looking to speak with people who transitioned from the bestie to lover tag when I found Segun*.

    He talks about dating his childhood friend and how his insecurities around success sabotaged the relationship.

    Image by freepik

    As Told To Adeyinka

    I was in primary 6 the first time I realised my feelings for my friend Shade weren’t just platonic.

    We were 8 years old and lived on the same estate. After school, we’d join other kids to play until our parents returned from work. We acted out a drama during one of these playdates. I can’t recall the details, but I remember we planned a pretend wedding party. Shade and I were cast as the groom and bride, and I was excited as the other kids cheered us on.

    Shade wore my white jalabiya as we couldn’t find a real wedding gown, and I wore a black shirt and trousers. Her hair was adorned with yellow and red flowers we plucked from a tree, and we used the same flowers for her bouquet.

    As we walked around the estate holding hands, the other kids sang “Here comes the bride.” It felt like a scene straight out of a movie.

    Although the older folks in the estate laughed it off as childish play, it felt real to me. Later that night, as I prayed, I asked God to make the wedding a reality in the future.

    When I was 11 years old, Shade’s family moved from the estate to their house in Ikorodu. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say goodbye.  I was on holiday at my cousin’s when they moved. When my mum shared the news, I sulked the entire day. She comforted me, assuring me that we would visit them soon, but I didn’t believe her. Weeks turned into months, and months into years, and soon, I forgot all about Shade.

    Fast forward to 2009, social media had become a thing. While filling out my JAMB registration form one day, I logged into my Facebook account and found a friend request from Shade. Although I didn’t recognise the profile picture, the lady looked pretty, so I accepted the request. Almost immediately, she flooded my inbox with messages, and the memories of our childhood rushed back. It was my Shade.

    She texted me as though we’d seen each other just days ago, and it was hard to keep up because I couldn’t remember some of the things she referenced. But Shade was back in my life.

    Shade had a small phone, but I didn’t, so Facebook was our only means of communication. I’d save up my pocket money to buy hours at the cybercafe, and we’d end our chat by scheduling our next online meeting. We lived in different areas— Surulere and Ikorodu—so we couldn’t plan a physical meetup due to the distance.

    As time went on, I learned that she was also trying for uni. Her parents wanted her to stay in Lagos, so it was UNILAG for her. Meanwhile, I was headed to UNILORIN. In all of these, we didn’t discuss relationships much. We’d make random comments about boys and girls, but that was it. We were just really good friends.

    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.

    Our other mutual friends also knew because we were constantly tagging each other on our Facebook walls. I’m not sure if “bestie” was a slang back then, but I guess you could say we were best friends.

    A year after our reunion, she gained admission into UNILAG and I didn’t, which was tough for me. I’d heard stories about how wild UNILAG was and how it changed people. Suddenly, I feared I might lose her, and I didn’t want that to happen. So, I started telling her more about the fake wedding we had as kids and how I prayed about it, hinting that we should be partners. She’d laugh it off, saying she didn’t want to be distracted by a relationship until she was done with uni.

    My fear of losing her to UNILAG didn’t let me back down, though. I was on her case, trying to make her see reason with me. I told her I could wait until we were married if it was about sex, and I assured her there wouldn’t be any distractions since we barely saw each other. Deep down, I just wanted the friend tag to change to boyfriend. I thought it gave a sense of permanency and commitment. Slowly but reluctantly, she agreed.

    It was both of our first relationships, so things went smoothly in the first few months. The boyfriend and girlfriend tag gave me assurance that I wasn’t losing her to UNILAG. Yes, she made new friends, but I was the one receiving “I love you” messages, listening to her rants, and being her confidant.

    Our bond grew stronger, and it felt like the childhood wedding might actually happen. Since UNILAG was closer to me than Ikorodu, I visited her at least twice a month.

    I also managed to convince my parents to let me choose UNILAG for my next JAMB attempt. It wasn’t easy, but they agreed. Shade and I were thrilled about the prospect of studying in the same school, graduating almost at the same time, and potentially serving in the same state for NYSC.

    Out of the blue, things took a sour turn. It started when I didn’t get admission into UNILAG. My dad didn’t take it well because he wasn’t on board with the UNILAG plan, and my mum was disappointed because it meant another year of explaining to friends, relatives, and neighbours why I wasn’t in uni yet. Shade, on the other hand, was full of enthusiasm and shared stories of people who tried for up to three years before they got into the school. If her words and care were meant to comfort me, they didn’t. I wanted to know why I didn’t have her luck, why I had to try more than once, and why things weren’t working out for me.

    Soon, I stopped visiting her in school. It was embarrassing to constantly tell her friends that I was still seeking admission or hanging around when she was having classes. Our communication also lost the spark that had carried us through the years. I wasn’t as excited to text back when I got her messages, and when we spoke on the phone, I gave tepid, one-word responses. I was angry at her, but I couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. If she sensed a change in me, she didn’t act on it. She’d still send “I love you” messages, ask me to come visit, and send random pictures of herself in school.

    One day, I logged into Facebook and saw a photo of her with another guy inside a car. He had the trending “Ama Kip Kip” shirt on, and I could tell he was from a wealthy family. I was livid and left a long and nasty comment on the picture, unfriended her, blocked her number. 

    In my head, that was the end of the relationship. I didn’t bother to reach out for the next few weeks. I ignored messages she sent from different numbers as I fell into a depressive state. Everything happening all at once: no admission, my dad nagging about choosing UNILAG, endless errands for my mum, my friends from secondary school sharing pictures from their respective universities, and my girlfriend leaving me for a richer UNILAG dude.

    On one of the days I felt alive, I called Shade, but she didn’t pick up. For some reason, the anger erupted in me again. When she called and texted back, I ignored her, and I didn’t reach out to her for months. I knew the relationship was over. In my head, she had better options in UNILAG.

    In 2013, I finally got into a university in Osun state. It still ranks as one of the happiest moments in my life. I was over the moon and shared the news with everyone. But even then, it felt like my joy was incomplete because I hadn’t told the one person I really wanted to share the news with. I sent a request on Facebook, sent text messages, and tried to reach her through some of our mutual friends, but it all proved abortive.

    A few weeks after I started my degree programme, I got the rudest shock of my life: Shade had dropped out of UNILAG and relocated abroad. It was the first time I truly felt heartbroken. Again, I tried to connect with her, but it seemed like she had vanished from the internet. There was no trace of her anywhere. And just like that, we lost contact.

    I still randomly search for her name on social media, but I’ve not gotten any real leads. Once, a private Instagram account popped up during a search, but the user didn’t accept my request.

    I’ve heard so many stories of people who got into romantic relationships with their friends, and it worked out. Some even got married. I think I could have been one of those if I hadn’t let a low moment in life steal my joy.


    Looking to attend an event where you’ll meet your potential bestie? Then Strings Attached is where you should be.

    We’re collaborating with One Bank to bring all the super cool people to our yard on Saturday, May 11, 2024, at Muri Okunola Park.

    Want to be a part of “Strings Attached”, the hottest community festival ever? All you have to do is download the OneBank by Sterling app, create a new account using ZIKOKO as the referral code, and your ticket will be reserved. The free tickets will be given out on a first-come, first-served basis, so hit the app store ASAP.

    READ NEXT: 9 Reasons Why Every Nigerian Woman Must Have A Male Bestie

  • Love Life: I Had a Crush on My Customer

    Love Life: I Had a Crush on My Customer

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other? 

    Segun: A friend who had bought a cake parfait from Anu referred her to me in 2021. The first time I made an order, I went to pick up cake parfaits at her house.

    Anu: I could’ve sent them through a dispatch rider, but he said he didn’t want that. I was confused, but what’s my own? I told him he could come get his order. 

    Wait, why?

    Segun: She lives really close to me, so paying extra for delivery didn’t make any sense. I could just drive down to her place to pick it up, so I did.

    What was the first meeting like?

    Segun: She had so much energy. There was this cute way she did her thing. She gave me the parfait and told me to come again. 

    I continued going there to pick up my cake parfaits.

    Anu:  Can I say my own?

    Segun: Oya.

    Anu: I won’t lie. When I saw him, I was shocked. I’d seen his WhatsApp display picture and some pictures on his story and I wasn’t feeling him like that. Then he showed up at my house, and I was like, this man is sexy.

    LOL. Was that when you both started liking each other?

    Segun:  Not really. I loved her cake parfaits and her vibe, so I always patronised her. Then, we started talking outside my orders.

    Anu: I invited him to my church.

    Why?

    Anu: I had a crush on him, and I needed to shoot my shot. So when they told us to invite two or more people to church, I thought, why not?

    Segun: I asked her if I’d find a wife in her church, and she said yes.

    Anu: Did you not find me?

    Segun, did you know about the crush?

    Segun: I had a feeling. She used to look at me really intensely. Like, I would be doing something, turn to her and find her looking at me. She didn’t admit it at first, but she was always inviting me to do things with her. I just had a feeling.

    Anu:  It’s not like I had a choice. Look at him. He’s a very fine man. And when we started talking, we found out that we had the same dreams and goals. That sealed it. I fell flat on the ground.

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

    Segun, when did you fall for her?

    Segun: After our first date. That was when I realised I had started liking her.

    Anu: Oh yes, that’s when I realised it too. He was driving, and I couldn’t stop staring at him. He kept going on about how happy he was. 

    He’s very shy, and I’d never seen him express himself like that. That’s when I really thought this man might like me, and my crush might be more than a crush.

    Okay, you have to tell me about this date.

    Anu: He asked me out on a movie date, so we went to Maryland Mall. 

    Segun: It didn’t start well.

    Anu: Nigeria was happening that day, so the cinema didn’t have electricity for a while. We had to sit somewhere, eat small chops and wait for the light to be restored. When it finally came back on,  we went in to watch the movie. I was so shy. 

    Segun: You were?

    Anu: I had to go to the bathroom at some point because I forgot how to breathe. When I got back, I just kept staring at him.

    Segun: I would look at her to find her looking at me.

    Seems like it was a great first date.

    Anu: The best. I didn’t even want to go home.

    Segun: It was fun. I already liked her before the date, so I was just happy we had that much fun and I could just be myself around her. Later that night, I told her about my YouTube channel. I wanted her to make videos with me because she had a lot of energy.

    Anu: I agreed, shared the channel’s link and in five months we went from 84 to 1,000 subscribers.

    That’s insane.

    Segun: I was surprised when we got to 1,000 subscribers..

    Anu: He had mentioned earlier that he preferred actions to words, and I was down to show him I cared through my actions. It’s why I was so determined to grow the YouTube channel.

    Is this what Anu meant by similar dreams and goals?

    Segun: Yes. It’s mostly content creation. She’s a content creator, and I’d just started creating reaction videos on YouTube when we started talking. I also wanted to switch to doing content with my partner.

    Anu: And that’s where I came in.

    Segun: We’re also business people. Well, kind of.

    Anu: I’m the more business-inclined person, sha.

    Segun: She really is. I’d always wanted to start some type of business, but I wasn’t getting things right. Honestly, we wanted a lot of similar things.

    Are you going to share these business interests?

    Segun: No.

    Anu: Nope.

    [ad]

    Fair enough. What about how you both help each other’s businesses?

    Segun: She helps me create content for my shirt brand and manages my business’ social media accounts. 

    Anu: He’s sometimes busy with work, so I post on the page, reply to customers, collect money, and revert to him. In turn, he helps me make videos for my business. He’s a great cinematographer and video editor, so he takes the videos and edit them too. 

    Last Saturday, he followed me to a trade fair and shot videos I could use to create content and post on my page.

    Aww, that’s so sweet. What’s your favourite thing about your relationship?

    Anu: It’s the fact that it’s him. I’m in a peaceful relationship with a man who’s very proud of me, shows me off at every chance and has actually shown that he’s interested in me. There are no inconsistencies in the way he loves me, and he always makes time for me. He gets busy with work, but he’ll always take out time to check in and text me.

    Segun: For me, it’s the way we understand and care for each other. She compliments me and carries my matter on her head unprovoked. She’s just always doing the most for me. 

    It’s also the letters.

    Anu: Oh God. 

    What letters?

    Segun: We write letters to appreciate each other, but she does it more, so I’ll randomly get handwritten letters. Last year, I got a letter in my email from the first day of my birth month till my actual birthday. It was really sweet, and I’ll never forget it.

    Best in love and romance!

    Anu: What can I say? I’m a finished woman.

    On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your love life?

    Segun: Let me not do too much, but this is a solid 8.5.

    Anu:  Ahh! I rate it a 10, minus nothing.

    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: We’ve Co-habited, Had a Kid but Still Can’t Commit

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  • QUIZ: How Taken Are You?

    QUIZ: How Taken Are You?

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  • I’m Tired of Men Wanting to Date Me Out of Pity

    I’m Tired of Men Wanting to Date Me Out of Pity

    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”. 

    [ad]

    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.

  • QUIZ: How Many Hearts Will You Break This Year?

    QUIZ: How Many Hearts Will You Break This Year?

    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: We’ve Co-habited, Had a Kid but Still Can’t Commit

    Love Life: We’ve Co-habited, Had a Kid but Still Can’t Commit

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    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.

    How did that happen?

    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.

    Was it sex that made you realise you liked each other beyond gaming?

    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.

    How did you go from that to a committed relationship?

    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?

    True. Did things change once you started dating?

    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.

    Explain, please

    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.

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

    Why did you decide to move in together?

    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.

    And how has co-habiting affected your relationship?

    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.

    Ah. Why?

    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.

    So, like an open relationship?

    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.

    What are your African parents saying about it?

    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. 

    If that isn’t the plan, what is?

    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.

    [ad]

    Cute. What was your first major fight about?

    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?

    Right?

    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.

    Have you ever made love over a game, though?

    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.

    But how do you deal with finances in a relationship with little commitment?

    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. 

    Do you ever regret moving in together?

    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. 

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

    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.

  • 6 Nigerians on Making Friends at a Festival

    6 Nigerians on Making Friends at a Festival
    6 Nigerians on Making Friends at a Festival

    I have three goals when I attend an event or festival: Have premium fun, make friends and get home safely. While I easily check off the fun and getting home parts, I can’t say the same about making friends. My social awkwardness and anxiety never let me.

    But I spoke with six peope who simply cannot relate to this struggle. Unlike me, they’ve made some of their best friendships at social events and will always look forward to attending the next one.

    Here are their stories.

    Feranmi*

    I attended a show at EKO Hotel and things didn’t go as planned. The show was scheduled for 6 p.m but it didn’t start till 9 p.m. I’d heard how Uber/Boltdrivers on the Island operate in the midnight so I thought I was covered.

    At 10:30 p.m., I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t find any ride to take me home. This dude who seemed to have the same problem approached me and goes “Bro, which side are you going?”. In my mind I was like “How’s that your business?” But I answered anyway. It turned out we were both headed to Onipanu. That was how he suggested sleeping in the event hall and leaving very early the next day. He said he’d done it before and that’s how most mainlanders navigate late night shows. We ended up talking through the night before we fell asleep. By the next morning, we’d shared so much that it felt like we’d been friends forever. And that was it. We’ve been friends for about 7 years now.

    Bukunmi*

    I attended HERtitude this year because I wanted to make new friends. Looking at videos and posts from previous editions, I knew my female bestie was somewhere out there waiting for me to find her. And I think I did at Hertitude.

    My bank card embarrassed me while I was trying to make payment at a food vendor’s. This cute girl, who was also in the queue, noticed my distress and offered to pay with her card, and I could refund with a bank transfer. I was more than thankful. We spent most of our time together after that encounter, and we’ve texted each other every day since Saturday. Well, maybe it’s still too early to say we’re besties, but at least we’re friends.

    Bisi*

    I won’t say I’ve made friends at any festival or events because I hardly attend with my friends. However, I remember one time when I got my period at an event and didn’t have my pads. I was stuck in the restroom for a bit trying to reach my friends and this girl noticed. She offered me pads from her stash and that was genuinely so nice. We ran into each other a couple of times more at the event and I thanked her every time, while she asked if I was okay or needed more. Now that I think of it, we would have made good friends. She seemed like a girl’s girl.

    Josh*

    I’d been in a WhatsApp group for movie lovers for years, and I was one of the active members. That said,  I wouldn’t say I had any close relationship with anyone. We only bantered about movies and that was about it. So one time, this film festival came up and the group decided to attend.

    On the D-day, I put out a call to carpool and about four people responded. All four of us attended the festival together and it was one of the best outings I’d enjoyed in a while. It felt like we’d known each other for a long time, even though it was the first time we met. At the festival, one of us suggested another event that was coming up and we all seemed interested. We created another WhatsApp group to plan for the event and that was how our friendship took off. We’ve attended more film festivals, excursions and trips.

    Tolu*

    I went to the last Experience concert with my brother and his wife, and I felt like a third wheel. They were all over each other that they forgot they came with someone.

    I got bored of the concert at some point and took a stroll. When I got back, a lady had taken my spot and I wanted to para for her because I was already in a foul mood. I got to my spot and before I said anything she stood up and apologised.  I felt bad by her thoughtfulness and politeness, so I offered to share my seat and she accepted. We made occasional small talk the rest of the concert and said our goodbyes when it was time to leave. However, on our way home, I saw her standing at the bus-stop and made my brother stop so we could ask where she was headed. Luckily, she was going our way so she joined our ride. This time around, I collected her number before we parted ways. We’ve been friends for four months now.

    Esther*

    I don’t think I know anyone who’s as interested in making new friends as I am. Maybe it has something to do with my job as a PR person. If I attend that music festival, that award show, that food festival, best believe one or two new numbers are getting into my phone. I’ve made most of my closest friends from events I organised or attended. My contacts list has names like Sarah Bolifest, Kunle Palmwinefest, Feyi Homecoming, etc. And friends often describe me as the worst person to go out with because the chances of dumping them for another new friend is always on the high side.

    Have these stories inspired you to make friends? We know just the right festival where you’ll meet your potential bestie.


    We’re collaborating with One Bank to bring all the super cool people to our yard on Saturday, May 11, 2024, at Muri Okunola Park.

    Want to be a part of “Strings Attached”, the hottest community festival ever? All you have to do is download the OneBank by Sterling app, create a new account using ZIKOKO as the referral code, and your ticket will be reserved. The free tickets will be given out on a first-come, first-served basis, so hit the app store ASAP.

  • Love Life: People Mistake Me for Her Mother

    Love Life: People Mistake Me for Her Mother

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    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.

    Tell me about the loneliness

    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.

    Did things ever get better?

    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.

    When did you realise you liked each other beyond friendship?

    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.

    [ad]

    Did you know you were gay before then?

    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.

    But it sounds more like you acted out of necessity than attraction

    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.

    What happened after that first makeout? Did you become official?

    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.

    In the meantime, what was your relationship?

    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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    What happened after graduation?

    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.

    Tell me about them

    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. 

    But how do you handle this assumption so it doesn’t affect how you feel about each other?

    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.

    You haven’t mentioned much about your family 

    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.

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    Do you ever plan to tell your family?

    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?

    Have you had any major fights yet?

    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.

    Ah. Explain yourself, Lase

    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.

    Hmm. How’d you rate your Love Life on a scale of 1 to 10?

    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

  • QUIZ: Are You the Toxic One in Your Relationship?

    QUIZ: Are You the Toxic One in Your Relationship?

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  • Love Life: We Strongly Believe in Different Religions 

    Love Life: We Strongly Believe in Different Religions 

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    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.

    What was his first school visit like?

    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.

    Did you consider yourselves in an official relationship during this period?

    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.

    What made you decide to say yes in the end?

    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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    Why were you reluctant, Funmi?

    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.

    Did he bring up religion?

    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.

    What was the defining moment that led to the proposal?

    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.

    What was the wedding like given your different religions?

    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?

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    I honestly have no idea. Did you get pushback from your families?

    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.

    It seems you’ve been able to blend religions perfectly?

    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.

    So you haven’t faced any struggles due to your different religions?

    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.

    And what was raising your kids in two religions like?

    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.

    [ad]

    What was your first major fight about?

    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.

    How did you get past these serious issues?

    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.

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

    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