When Dehinde* (37) was younger, marriage wasn’t something he saw himself doing. Not because he grew up around bad examples — his parents had a solid marriage — but because it just never appealed to him. But when his girlfriend got pregnant and his parents insisted he “do the right thing,” he caved in. Six years later, he’s still figuring out what it means to live with someone who constantly tests his patience.
In this week’s Marriage Diaries, he talks about how alcohol became his escape, why he sometimes wishes he had never married, and the surprising thing marriage taught him about himself.
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Marriage was never something I looked forward to
I never really thought about getting married. Whenever the idea came up, it just didn’t feel like something I wanted for myself. It wasn’t rebellion or fear; I just didn’t see marriage as something that would add to my life.
It wasn’t like I grew up seeing terrible marriages. My parents loved each other deeply, and most of my uncles and aunts had solid homes. Still, it didn’t make me want the same thing. I was fine with the idea of being single for the rest of my life. Maybe I’d have a child or two to continue my lineage, but even that wasn’t a necessity.
If not for family and societal pressure, I probably would’ve stayed unmarried. However, in this part of the world, once you reach a certain age, people begin to demand answers. “When are you settling down?” becomes a question you can’t escape. And when you don’t have the answer they want, they give you one.
No one influenced how I saw marriage. I didn’t look at couples and think, I want this. I just didn’t fancy it. But I always knew that eventually, I’d have to give in because that’s how life works here.
We only got married because she got pregnant
When I met my wife, I didn’t think it would lead to marriage. We dated for about seven months, and things were decent. Then she got pregnant, and everything changed.
My parents found out, and that was the end of the discussion. Their stance was clear: I was old enough, financially stable, with a good job and my own house, so why should I bring a child into the world out of wedlock?
They didn’t even give me time to think. They just insisted we get married. And because I didn’t have a strong argument against it, I gave in.
At first, things were fine. But once our baby came, I started seeing a side of her I hadn’t noticed before; maybe because we didn’t date long enough. She’s a good person, but she’s incredibly controlling. Always complaining about something, always finding a fault, always correcting me like I’m a child.
She’d nag about how I placed a pillow, how I left a pot uncovered, or how I didn’t fold my clothes after work. It might sound like small things, but when it happens every single day, it grates on you.
By our second year, I genuinely considered leaving. It didn’t feel like I was living with a partner; it felt like I was living with a strict mother. I even called my dad one night to rant, and he laughed before saying, “All women nag, even your mum.”
He told me to find things that made me happy outside the house, hobbies, outlets, anything that reminded me I was still my own person. That advice stuck, but I didn’t realise how badly I’d interpret it.
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I found escape in alcohol
Before marriage, I was what you’d call a social drinker. I’d have a bottle of beer at a wedding or a whisky shot at a party, and keep it moving. But when things started getting tense at home, I began drinking more.
It started small, a bottle on Fridays after work, a way to cool off before heading home. But soon, it became a daily routine. I’d tell myself I was avoiding traffic or just needed to unwind, but the truth was, I didn’t want to go home to another argument.
One bottle turned into two, then three. I was never stumbling drunk, but I was detached. The alcohol helped me zone out, and it made the tension at home easier to ignore.
Instead of confronting my wife or sharing what I was feeling, I drowned it. I didn’t want to talk to someone who would still find a way to criticise me. So I just drank, came home, and went straight to bed.
I still drink sometimes, especially when things get really bad. I know it’s not the healthiest way to cope, but at this point, it feels easier than talking. I wish I’d found a better escape, something that didn’t come with regret the morning after.
She talks to me like I’m her younger brother
My wife and I argue a lot. And if there’s one sentence I’ve repeated more times than I can count, it’s: “Stop talking to me like I’m your child.”
Just two weeks ago, for example, I got home from work exhausted. I dropped my shoes in the living room and went straight to sleep. She saw them and screamed my name like there was an emergency. I ran out, half-asleep, only to be told to “come and carry your shoes.”
It sounds small, but it’s the way she says it that annoys me. There’s no respect in her tone; it’s almost like an order. When I complained, she apologised later, but it didn’t mean much because she did it again.
When she’s away visiting family, the house is peaceful. But the moment she returns, the tension comes back. It’s like she can’t stop pointing out what’s wrong, even things that don’t matter.
The irony is, she can’t take what she dishes out. If I ever correct her about something, she sulks or keeps to herself for the rest of the day. Sometimes, I intentionally mirror her tone just so she understands how it feels.
I know it’s not the healthiest way to handle things, but at some point, you get tired of trying to be the only calm person in the marriage.
Marriage has taught me patience I didn’t know I had
I used to think I was patient, but marriage has taken that to a whole new level. The level of patience I’ve had to build in this relationship is wild.
Now, I know when to talk and when to keep quiet. Sometimes, I just let her finish whatever she’s saying and quietly do what she wants. Other times, I walk out of the house and take a drive till I calm down.
People often say marriage is about compromise. They’re right, but I think it’s also about endurance. You’ll have to learn how to hold back even when you’re right, how to let things go just to keep the peace.
If I can handle my wife, I can handle anyone. That’s how much patience this marriage has forced me to build.
Still, it’s not all bad. I’ve learned things about myself. I’m calmer, more reflective, and sometimes maybe too detached. But if that’s what it takes to survive, then so be it.
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Love isn’t enough to keep a marriage going
If I could go back to my younger self, I’d tell him not to give in to pressure. Don’t get married because people say it’s time. Don’t do it because it’s the next logical step.
I’m grateful for my wife and our child, but if I’m being honest, I sometimes imagine a life where I never got married. Maybe I’d be lonely sometimes, but I don’t think I’d regret it.
People like to say love is what holds marriage together. I don’t believe that anymore. Love is great at the beginning, but when life happens — when responsibilities, arguments, and exhaustion set in — love alone isn’t enough.
What keeps you going are the other things: patience, commitment, children, sometimes even guilt. You’ll fall out of love many times, but you’ll keep going because you’ve built something you can’t walk away from easily.
For me, that’s what marriage has become, not a romantic dream, but a test of endurance and self-control.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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