Solomon* (33) grew up fantasising about polygamy after consuming countless Yoruba Nollywood films about kings and their many wives. But two years into his marriage, he’s learning that navigating one relationship already takes more work than he expected.
In this week’s Marriage Diaries, he talks about unlearning unrealistic expectations, learning to live with another human for the first time, and how marriage is forcing him to choose peace over petty arguments.
This is a look into Solomon’s marriage diary.
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I thought I’d be married to more than one woman
This will sound funny, but if you’d asked 18-year-old me what marriage looked like, I’d have told you I’d end up polygamous. I didn’t grow up in a polygamous household — my dad only married my mum. But I consumed way too much Yoruba Nollywood, thanks to my mum. She was a stay-at-home parent and an absolute movie junkie. She had these rental club cards where you’d collect tapes and CDs to watch at home. And the movies were always about village kings surrounded by several wives.
I wasn’t immune. I’d sit there, soaking in the storyline, imagining myself as a future king with queens to my left and right. It wasn’t about sex, per se, I just liked the imagery of being adored by multiple women.
But I grew up. Life sobered me up. I started seeing what the movies didn’t show — the chaos, the jealousy, the financial responsibility, the emotional drama. It didn’t help that my dad always talked about how peaceful his marriage was because there was just one woman in his life. By my mid-twenties, that whole fantasy faded. Now, I’m happily married to one woman, and I don’t plan to complicate my life with a second wife.
I discovered I’m the difficult partner in this marriage
Getting married made me confront parts of myself I’d never had to deal with before. I grew up enjoying my own space. I had my room in my parents’ house, didn’t have to share in university, and even during NYSC, I was back home in my little bubble. My wife had strict parents, so even when we dated, she didn’t visit often.
It was a serious shock to my system when we finally moved in together after marriage. I always thought I was chilled, someone who’d go with the flow. But suddenly, everything irritated me. I realised I’m very particular about my personal space, how things are arranged, and even how we decorate our house.
The smallest things annoyed me: items not being where I left them, an artwork moved from its usual spot. Our first argument was literally about throw pillows. I got home that day, and my wife had ordered a set I’d said I didn’t like. I told her to move the pillows to the room, but she insisted she bought them for the living room. I ignored her for most of that day until she moved the pillows, but she also got angry. The truth is, I felt like I was losing my grip on my environment. I hated that feeling, so I’d complain all the time. I never imagined being the nagging spouse, but here I was being that guy.
I didn’t think cohabiting would be this hard
Nobody warned me how intense cohabiting would be. Honestly, it was the biggest adjustment of my life. Before marriage, I assumed we’d still enjoy some level of independence. I liked the idea of having my own room where I could unwind or have quiet time. I even suggested it when we got the house, but my wife shut it down quickly.
And it wasn’t just about space. Considering how reserved she was during our relationship, I thought she’d be the partner who valued some individualism. But marriage brought out a very attached side of her. She always wanted us to eat from the same plate, binge-watch shows together, and spend time in the same room.
It was jarring for me. I’d often find myself craving time alone, but feeling guilty about it. I’ve since accepted that marriage means constant companionship, but I won’t lie, the introvert in me still struggles sometimes.
Marriage has forced me to choose peace
One thing I’m actively working on is learning when to keep quiet. I’m naturally vocal; I believe in addressing things as they happen. But my wife is the opposite. She’d rather ignore minor irritations than turn everything into a discussion. I, on the other hand, always feel the need to comment on every little inconvenience.
It caused plenty of unnecessary arguments. I even made the mistake of venting to my mum, and she reminded me I’d always been like this, even as a child. That forced me to start examining myself more critically.
I now assess what’s worth mentioning and what I should let go. Some days I win, other days I don’t. I complained when that artwork was moved, but at least I didn’t move it back. I’ve learned to express my feelings without trying to control everything. It’s a slow journey, but I’m making progress.
I’ve become softer and more self-aware because of marriage
Marriage forced me to confront the side of me I didn’t realise existed: the side that nitpicks, nags, and low-key wants things done my way. It’s been humbling. I’ve learned to choose silence more, even in friendships. I was the friend who always had an opinion, suggested changes to plans or criticised little things. Marriage taught me that it’s okay to let things be and allow people to enjoy their choices without my input.
One of my proudest moments is learning to appreciate my wife’s efforts more. Before, I’d fixate on what wasn’t done perfectly. Now, I consciously choose gratitude. Even if I don’t like something, I start with “Thank you for doing this.” I’ve seen how much smoother things are when I lead with appreciation rather than criticism.
We’re only two years in, but I know marriage will continue to teach me more about myself. And the beautiful part is having someone by my side who loves me through every version of me, even the difficult ones. That alone makes all the internal battles worth it.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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