• 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.

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    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.

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

    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

  • At our festival for hot babes only, HERtitude, we come together to celebrate all things fabulous about being a woman in Nigeria and beyond, from killer performances to fun activities and empowering discussions. 

    We’re taking things up a notch with a women’s leadership session in partnership with the Women in Leadership Advancement Network (WILAN) and their MsRepresented campaign. With a panel and dedicated booth, we will address the misrepresentation and underrepresentation of women in leadership positions in Nigeria because, let’s face it, hot babes, it’s time to take our rightful place at the top.

    Hot babes in leadership

    What can you expect from this partnership? Get ready to be inspired, empowered and educated by three incredible young female leaders who are absolutely slaying the game — with bat-shit-crazy innovative content creator, Hauwa Lawal, as their moderator.

    Dive into the world of art and creativity with Morenike Olusanya (@iamrenike) as she shares her journey to success and spills the tea on what it takes to thrive as a female creative artist and entrepreneur in a male-dominated industry.

    Lawyer and public servant, Ayisat Agbaje, will drop some serious knowledge bombs on how to navigate leadership as a young person and how to step into your power as a political leader in Nigeria. So come with note-taking supplies, hot babes.”

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    We also have Jennie Nwokoye, health-tech innovator and CEO of Clafiya, onboard. From disrupting the healthcare industry to breaking barriers as a female entrepreneur, Jennie will show us how to make our mark and change the game in tech.

    Leadership dress-up time

    WILAN will set up a super fun booth at HERtitude, where you can channel your inner girl boss and dress up as iconic female leaders from across the globe. Whether you want to rock Ngozi Okonjo Iweala’s iconic head tie and glasses or channel your inner Beyoncé, there’s a character for every hot babe out there.

    Plus, for those who prefer to keep it real, WILAN will be on hand to chat about what “MsRepresented” means to you and how we can work together to change the game for women everywhere. Get ready to level up your leadership game with Zikoko and WILAN.

    Meanwhile, HERtitude is still bringing you

    Games like a money-winning scavenger hunt, karaoke, board games, Jenga and bouncing castle; activities like a fashion show and dancing competition; craft activities like paint and sip, candle-making, pottery, bracelet making and crochet; vendor services like spa, tattoo booths, manicure and pedicure stations, a relaxation lounge, yoga and meditation sessions; The HERtitude Awards; DJ sets and live performances; speed friendship sessions and an AFTER PARTY.

    So get your tickets here if you haven’t already, and mark your calendars, hot babes. HERtitude ’24 will be one for the books. See you there.

    The biggest women-only festival in Lagos is BACK.
    Get your tickets here for a day of fun, networking and partayyyyy
  • 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.

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

    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

  • We’ve got some major news that’ll make you break out your dancing shoes and grab your girl squad. HERtitude 2024 will be hotter than ever because we’re bringing some serious sparkle to the party with our headline sponsor, Sparkle!

    HERtitude is THE festival for hot babes only, where you can let loose and celebrate all things fabulous about being a woman in Nigeria and beyond. Think of it as your ultimate girls’ day out, filled with fun activities, killer live performances and a whole lot of hot babe power.

    Sparkle is not your average bank, either. They’re all about helping you slay your financial goals while living your best life. From sending and receiving money to topping up your airtime and data and even paying your bills – Sparkle has got you covered.

    “Sparkle Loves Women! That’s why we’re beyond excited to be the headline sponsor for HERtitude ‘24. For us, HERtitude isn’t just an event; it’s another avenue to express our love and unwavering commitment to women. Join us in celebrating their strength, achievements and brilliance at HERtitude ‘24,” Uzoma Dozie, Chief Sparkler at Sparkle.

    But Sparkle isn’t just about banking; they’re here to ensure you have the time of your life at HERtitude. Picture this: raffle draws where you can win cash prizes, scavenger hunts with treasures hidden around the venue and sparkling neck massages to help you relax and unwind like the hot babe you are.

    Oh, and did we mention free hand fans to keep you cool and fabulous all day long? Yup, Sparkle’s got your back, hot babe.

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    And here’s the best part – all these amazing perks are just a download away. That’s right, simply download the Sparkle app, fund your account and get ready to live your best life at HERtitude 2024. You don’t want to miss out on this epic celebration of sisterhood, empowerment and all-around awesomeness.

    So mark your calendars, gather your girl gang, and get ready to sparkle at HERtitude 2024 with Zikoko and Sparkle. Grab your tickets HERE.

    The biggest women-only festival in Lagos is BACK.
    Get your tickets here for a day of fun, networking and partayyyyy
  • Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Ore: We met at a restaurant in late 2012. My mum’s friend matchmade us because she felt I didn’t go out enough. She gave him my number, he called and we decided to meet for a first date a week later. 

    I got there first; the first thing I thought when I saw him was, “Doesn’t this guy eat?” He was so lanky then and around my height. My spec was you have to be at least six inches taller than me for us to date.

    Steven: I got there about 30 minutes late. I remember seeing her alone on the table, looking bored. I sat down and apologised, and she shrugged it off immediately. We ordered our pizza and laughed about the aunty who’d set us up. I drove her home, and we sat in my car and chatted some more when I got to the side of her house. 

    But I left her that day thinking we’d probably just be friends.

    Why exactly?

    Steven: The attraction wasn’t there during that first meeting. But the conversation flowed well, and we got along. When we spoke the next day, I loved the energy she brought into it.

    Ore: I wasn’t looking to get into a relationship. I was figuring out work and how to make more money. There was a lot of drama at home that I was navigating at the time. Black tax was choking me. Although, now that I’ve thought about it, I should’ve probably dated more. Maybe a man would’ve been sending me money.

    Anyway, I was halfhearted about our relationship at the time. I was just fine with having one more person to talk to. So we talked and talked and talked for months.

    When did feelings start seeping in?

    Ore: I’m not sure I can pinpoint one moment. But by the end of 2013, we were talking like every other day. He managed to scale my entire friends list to become the first person I call to tell important things. And I wasn’t having much luck with relationships at the time.

    Steven: One thing I pinpointed was it felt more like we were coasting through an eternal talking stage than friendship. I mean talking stage wasn’t even a thing at the time, so maybe that’s why we didn’t clock it. 

    It was like we were trying to figure out whether to like each other or not, constantly asking questions about our likes, preferences and dislikes. During this time, I knew things like her favourite colour and shoe size, things I didn’t know about friends I’d known for much longer.

    At what point did you decide you had to date?

    Steven: In September 2014, when she invited me to attend a family member’s wedding with her. I thought nothing of it, and I’m sure she just invited me as a close friend. But at the wedding, I realised I liked how I felt walking hand in hand with her, sitting beside her with her friends and all. 

    It didn’t feel like we were just friends. Maybe it was the vibe of watching a couple get married that made it sink in. But when I got home, I knew I wanted her to be my girlfriend.

    Ore: I confess that I didn’t think about us getting into a relationship at all until after he asked me. Then I thought about it and realised I cared about him well enough to give it a try.

    Steven: I didn’t ask her out immediately, though. It took about a month for me to find the right moment. I also didn’t want to ask her over the phone, so it happened during one of our hangouts at the beach.

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    Sounds romantic. What was the relationship like, given the uncertainty?

    Ore: It was brief. It was perfect. I knew I liked and even loved him from that first week. It wasn’t even anything he said or did. It was how I felt with him — warm and safe. I don’t know how to explain it.

    Steven: We’d gotten to know each other for so long without the pressures of “we must date”. So when we finally got together, we already understood each other well. It didn’t even feel like we needed to date. We came into January 2015 knowing we wanted to be husband and wife.

    Ore: We decided together. There was no “Will you marry me?” He never proposed.

    How exactly did the conversation of “we’re getting married” go?

    Steven: It happened over a couple of weeks. As soon as we got together in November, we became inseparable. We were always hanging out, seeing each other during lunch breaks and after work on weekdays. She worked in VI, and I worked in Lekki, so it was slightly easy to meet up and then go home to the mainland together. 

    On weekends, we’d meet up in my area or hers, and we’d take strolls, sit in a nearby eatery or even a workstation, nothing too expensive. 

    We just clung to each other, and it made me feel happier than I’d probably ever been. I didn’t want that happiness to stop. Because we were always together, we always had these long-drawn conversations about our individual and joint plans. It only took us three months. We started visiting our families by the end of January. February 10, we went to the registry.

    Ore: See, I’ve only dated two other people, and I’d never felt so eager to live with and have kids with anyone as much as when I was with this man. I don’t know why it took us so long to even get into the relationship. But I think that talking period is part of what helped us fall in love.

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

    Did you get pushback from family or friends?

    Steven: Nope. None.

    Ore: Everyone was so supportive. It all went smoothly. We didn’t do anything big. Luckily for me, my family is not the “big owambe” type of Yoruba.

    So, how has married life been for the last nine years?

    Steven: We had a huge shocker because it was rough for us in the first couple of years.

    Ore: Yeah, we had a huge sex problem.

    Tell me about it

    Ore: So we waited to have sex after marriage. It wasn’t even a religious thing. We just never visited each other at home or in any other private space. Beyond making out here and there, sex never came up. Even after the court wedding, we didn’t move in together immediately, so no sex until like two months later. 

    We had sex some weeks before our main wedding. I was a virgin, he wasn’t, but everything seemed fine.

    Steven: Then, the wedding and all its chaos came and went. We settled into family life. That’s when we noticed that she wanted to have sex way more than I did.

    Ore: It probably wouldn’t have been a problem if he wasn’t so good at it. For the first year, I didn’t understand why we couldn’t do it every day, like, multiple times a day even. I understood we had work, but then, I’d be ready to get down in the weekend, and he’d keep making excuses.

    That sounds serious. How did you guys get past this?

    Ore: For months, we fought, and I felt so ashamed because who could I talk to about sex issues in my marriage. Therapy didn’t even come to mind.

    Steven: It felt like such a u-turn from how we felt during the dating period, like we’d made a mistake because we rushed in. 

    Ore: The funny thing is that the sex was even better during this period when we were always fighting. But we were not happy. I always felt like I had to beg him for sex. We even considered divorce. 

    I remember on our first wedding anniversary, instead of celebrating, we had “the talk”. I asked if he thought we should go our separate ways and he got angry.

    [ad]

    Why?

    Steven: I didn’t think she valued sex so highly that she was willing to break up our marriage because of it. It wasn’t like we weren’t having sex. But it wasn’t something I wanted to do more than once or twice a week.

    Ore: He said that since I cared so little about our relationship, we could separate. It was crazy, but we never acted on it. That night, we still had the sex.

    You’re still together today. What was the turning point?

    Steven: She got pregnant shortly after, and for the next five years, we focused on having and raising our two kids. After that, we looked for other ways to bridge her libido with mine.

    Ore: I thought having children back to back would reduce my sex cravings, but it only made it worse. So I’ve gotten into a wide range of sex toys and also therapy, and we communicated more about why he didn’t enjoy sex as much as I did.

    Steven: I enjoy it, but maybe not as much as other people do. I think it’s just an interest thing. 

    Till today, I still can’t keep up with her libido, but it’s less of an issue now. I’m glad I have a wife who loves sex because, at least, I know anytime I want her, she’s ready. I try my best to give what I take, but I also know I have to accept that I may never be enough. I’ve made peace with it.

    Do you think you’d ever open your marriage?

    Steven: Ahhh. No.

    Ore: No. Even me, I won’t agree.

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

    Steven: 10. We’ve gotten back to that easygoing connection we felt before we even started dating, and it’s so comfortable.

    Ore: 10. But I also don’t want us to get too comfortable. Actually, 9, because I’d like for us to try new things and have some more spice in our marriage.

    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 READ: Love Life: I Think She’s Too Cool For Me Sometimes

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Sola: We met in a small supermarket on my street. I passed him on the aisle to the counter, and he noticed one of my tattoos. He told me it was nice. I actually thought he was talking about my jewellery and tried to explain that my grandma gave them to me when I was a child. 

    When I realised he was talking about the tattoo, I just smiled and faced my front.

    Charles: I wasn’t used to seeing girls with tattoos in my neighbourhood, so I found her intriguing. I asked her for her number, but she said she didn’t know it off-head and also didn’t bring her phone with her. I assumed she didn’t want to give me, but then she scrambled through her wallet for paper and asked the cashier for a pen.

    Sola: I took down his number and, later that night, dutifully texted him on WhatsApp so he could have my number. Only for him to say he couldn’t remember who I was.

    Charles?

    Charles: So the thing is, I was high when we met at the supermarket.

    Hm. Sola, how did you take that?

    Sola: I had to send him a video I’d taken earlier, in the same outfit, to jug his memory. I was irritated, so I figured I wouldn’t speak to him again. And true true, he didn’t text me for a while. It was also December, and he was giving IJGB vibes with a slight accent and all.

    Charles: I hadn’t just got back. I got back a long time ago.

    When did you realise you liked each other?

    Sola: Later that month was events and concert season in Lagos. 

    I was on my way to my office end-of-year party when he messaged me for the first time since the day we met. He was attending a show in our area and was wondering if I wanted to come. I told him I was on my way somewhere else, so he switched to video to see how I looked. He hailed me and made me feel so cute.

    Charles: She looked good, and I couldn’t hide it.

    Sola: He told me to have a good time and not be a stranger. I smiled and felt good about myself just hearing him say that. I don’t even know why. He just looked and sounded like a sweet guy. 

    I was talking to this other guy at the time, and even though I liked him, I always felt like he was giving me this subtle attitude. But Charles already made me feel fully appreciated.

    Charles: For me, it was when we finally met up at a festival on Boxing Day. Neither of us came with friends, so we got to bond and get to know each other, surrounded by music and strangers having fun.

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

    What happened after?

    Charles: We chatted until mid-January, when we met again for her birthday. That’s when I saw another side of her — the party girl side. 

    Sola: My friends organised a little dinner for me and then a club thing after.

    Charles: She and her friends are crazy. I couldn’t keep up at all. I had to leave early.

    Sola: The next day, I called to thank him for the gift he gave me at the dinner, and he started asking how I got home and if I was safe the whole time. I was a little irritated. I’m 30+, please. 

    We texted for weeks after, but I made sure I was cold in my responses. Until one day, he told me he really liked me but he felt I didn’t like him back. My heart melted, and I told him I liked him.

    Charles: That’s how we got together officially.

    No wasting time?

    Charles: I was done waiting. I just wanted to know if we’d work out in a proper relationship once and for all.

    Sola: So you weren’t even sure at that point?

    Charles: Is it possible to be sure until you try it out?

    And how has it been so far?

    Sola: There’s been ups and downs. We’ve taken a few breaks because we keep having the same issues around our very different social lives.

    Charles: I never considered myself religious until we started dating. But I never miss a service. I know you’ll ask how come I was high the first time we met. I guess I’m religious now because I was born religious. My mother really drummed church culture into our heads, and now, it’s just ingrained.

    Sola is more casual about it, and she’s a popular jingo. Meaning that she has over 50 close friends and attends at least two big parties a month. I’m talking proper club or house parties. I wasn’t prepared for how bothered by that I would be.

    Sola: I also never thought it would be an issue, at least, until I started having kids.

    [ad]

    Sounds like a dealbreaker?

    Sola: I wish it were that simple. The thing is, everything else works between us. 

    I love how he makes me feel, his character and his financial trajectory. But I don’t think I can or should have to change for him. I also don’t think he needs to be more social for him; we don’t have to have all the same interests.

    Charles: I agree. We’ve been able to establish a middle ground over time, but it still causes friction sometimes. We don’t really connect with each other’s friends because hers are Lagos cool kids, and my friends are more workaholic and church-obsessed. I feel like she’s too cool for me sometimes.

    Sola: Cool as how? We’re just used to a lifestyle that’s different from what you’re used to. 

    We’ve talked about the future a number of times. We’re both ready to settle down, so in November 2023, we made the huge decision to move in together. And the first two months really tested our love and bond. I could tell he tried to be understanding but clearly didn’t like me coming home late on some nights. It made me feel guilty and uncomfortable.

    Doesn’t cohabiting clash with Charles’ Christian values, though?

    Sola: As you must’ve guessed, he’s half and half about it. That’s probably why we can still have a conversation and make compromises. A true Christian boy would’ve chased my clubbing ass out a long time ago. I wouldn’t even let it get to that. 

    But yeah, cohabiting has always been a must for me before marriage. I gotta know firsthand what I’m getting into.

    Charles:  I agree. There’s a place for faith and a place for using your sense.

    Sola: We’ve grown to manage our differences better. 

    He comes out with me to the club on some nights. On others, I cancel on my friends, and we hang out together instead. I no longer feel I need to accept every invitation. That’s a compromise I’m willing to make for the future of our relationship.

    Charles: I also don’t feel I have to attend every church service. I’ve limited those to Sundays, and we’ve started going together every week. It’s been cool mixing both worlds at our own pace.

    You mentioned being ready to settle down?

    Charles: Yeah, that will happen any moment now. I don’t want to spoil anything.

    Sola: Ahhh. Don’t let Zikoko be the first to know of your plans. Is it soon? Should I go and fix acrylics? I’ll kill you if you’ve spoilt the surprise, I swear.

    Charles: We still have a few things to discuss, but despite our imperfections, we’re right for each other because of how open we are to making things work instead of just walking away for good.

    Do your religious parents know about the clubbing and cohabiting?

    Charles: Haba. Do they care? My mum isn’t excited about our cohabiting, but she’s not really vocal about it. And they’ve never had to know that we or she clubs.

    Sola: Oh, his parents love me. I’m absolutely lovable!

    Between us, though, we’ve had major disagreements in the past about my late nights and his prioritising mid-week services over our bonding time. We’d take a break for a week or two, and before you know it, we’re back because we love spending time together.

    I don’t think our social lives should be enough to keep us apart. I mean, at this age, we should know.

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

    Sola: 8. We’re a work in progress, but sometimes the journey matters just as much as the destination. Or whatever these motivational speakers say.

    Charles: LOL. Same.

    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: My Friends Think I’m A Fool For Dating an Upcoming Musician

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Tobi: I met her at a mutual friend’s house party next door two year ago. I came late, and most people had left, but she was there with a female friend sitting outside the house when I entered the gate. She was the first person I saw, and I just walked up to her and said hi. I thought she was foine with her thickness and mini skirt.

    Tare: I saw him the moment he opened the gate and stepped in. I thought he was too nicely dressed for the very basic get-together. Don’t get me wrong. He was dressed casually, but you could tell he carefully curated his t-shirt, cargo shorts, and what Nigerian wears a face cap at night?

    Turned out he worked in the music industry: He had some big credits as a producer and was building up to being a recording artist himself. I didn’t find that out immediately, though.

    What happened in the meantime?

    Tare: The friend I came with eventually left me at the party. Then we chatted for a bit before he invited me next door to his place because he wanted to leave. I declined, so we exchanged numbers and continued chatting into the wee hours of the morning when I got home.

    Tobi: Yeah. We compacted months of talking stage into that one night.

    Tare: The next day was a Sunday. He invited me to his place again, and I went this time. He took me to his studio, and that’s when he told me about his music.

    He wanted to kiss me several times until I told him, “I don’t share”.

    Tobi: So I asked her to be my girlfriend.

    Tare: Then I repeated what I said: I don’t share.

    What does that mean?

    Tare: If he wants to kiss or date me, he has to be ready to kiss or date only me.

    Tobi: That was a fair deal. I happened to be single at the time. I’d been single for about five months, and I really liked her already.

    Why exactly did you like her?

    Tobi: I just knew she wouldn’t bore me or complain about everything. She has this soft “no stress” vibe that made me feel like I could ignore all my struggle when I’m with her.

    Tare: And what you saw was what you got.

    Tobi: Yes. Even when she’s troublesome or in a mood, she’s still generally good vibes. All I want to do is help her feel better any way I can. 

    She does a lot for me, too. She takes care of me, especially when I’m over-focused on studio work.

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

    So you started dating the next day?

    Tobi: Yes. I asked her out in my house that day. She laughed but still said okay. I had to swear exclusivity to her sha. I’ve never been one to have a side chick or multiple girls, anyway.

    Tare: It was important to vocally agree on that beforehand, though. 

    I said yes because I liked his face, thought he had sense (as per, he can hold a conversation and his opinions made sense), and he was CLEAN. Very important. But I also believed he just wanted to get to make out with me.

    Tobi: Well, that’s true. But obviously not the complete truth. I also wanted to see how far the relationship would go. I actually didn’t know at that point if it would make it past some make-outs or not.

    When did you realise you loved each other?

    Tobi: The first time we had sex about a week after dating. I remember waking up next to her the morning after feeling so happy, like I’d achieved greatness.

    Also, the first time I had to travel to perform, towards the end of that month. We’d decided she wouldn’t go with me because I wanted to keep my private life completely private. In the past, my girlfriends had issues with that, but she respected my feelings and even came to pick me up at the airport in her mum’s car when my management messed up.

    Tare: I love to drive, so I didn’t mind at all. And he’d been gone for a week. I couldn’t wait to see him again.

    Tobi: It was last minute, and I almost didn’t ask her to come because I thought she’d be pissed off. But I felt good when I saw her at the airport looking so happy to see me. All I wanted to do was kiss her for hours.

    How has navigating your relationship with a music career been so far?

    Tare: It’s been a lot of ups and downs. Especially as I work for an oil company, and it can be just as demanding. The only difference is that it’s a lot more stable than music. We’ve had to struggle to make time for each other. Especially when he drops a project, and he has to be everywhere promoting it.

    Tobi: But we make it work. We always text whenever we can’t call. And when things are quieter, like I’m between projects, we meet up. She comes over to my place for days or weeks.

    Tare: We also try to go on dates, but we always end up leaving about 30 minutes in to just be together at home. When we dress nice and go to restaurants, we somehow end up telling them to pack the food up so we can eat naked at home.

    Tobi: I’m an extroverted introvert, and she’s the reverse.

    Is this all part of keeping the relationship private?

    Tobi: I’m generally a private person. I don’t need people to know my parents or siblings either. It’s not that deep; I’m still coming up. It’s not like I’ve blown. I just don’t feel comfortable having my business out in the open like that.

    Tare: I’m so sure if he was in any other industry, he wouldn’t even be on social media. He loves to be mysterious. 

    [ad]

    Tare, how do you feel about being unable to show each other off to the world?

    Tare: I don’t like it sometimes, I won’t lie. Especially when he has a show but doesn’t want me coming along to hype him. 

    I got side-eyes when my friends heard that one. A couple of them are in the music industry as well, but mostly the business side, and they’ve always said, “Don’t date a musician. They’re either too broke or will sleep with anyone. Never do it. Just don’t.” It’s been everyone-I-know’s mantra, so I actually don’t know how I got here.

    Tobi: I pressed your mumu button.

    Tare: Get out.

    How do you navigate that negative energy?

    Tobi: I think we just know ourselves well. I’ve given her no reason to distrust me. The same thing for her. Other people’s rules don’t apply.

    Tare: It hurts when my friends are convinced he’s playing me, all because he’s not bringing me out to the clubs or posting videos of us on socials. They think I’m a fool for accepting that, but I actually know this guy personally. I know what we’ve done for each other, how we hype ourselves up behind the scenes where things are less glamorous.

    Also, he’s not broke o. You need to see how much this man collects to produce people’s songs. Ahhh. But I don’t need to tell them private info about my relationship to get them to trust me.

    What are some ways you establish trust?

    Tare: Communication. I’m big on that. We keep each other accountable for every minute detail of our lives. We talk about things like planning towards paying his younger siblings’ fees. We discuss all our comings and goings. I almost always know where he is at any given time. Then again, 90% of the time, he’s in his studio, which is in his house. 

    I know all his friends well, too; they’re annoyingly always hanging out at his place anyway.

    Tobi: Yeah, she doesn’t like that. I’ve slowly had them move out or stay away. Now, both our friends have reasons to hate the other person. Haha. That’s life.

    But, yeah, what she said. We always talking. When people try to toast us, we send each other the screenshots and yab ourselves.

    Tare: I’d be like, “See o. They’re toasting your babe o. Someone wants to take me to the club you don’t want to take me to o.” No. We’re so chilled with each other. This is the most laid-back, no-stress relationship I’ve ever been in. And I love it here.

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    Sweet. It’s been two years; wedding bells anytime soon?

    Tare: Nah. We’re still young and trying to establish our careers.

    Tobi: Yeah. Marriage and trying to make it in music don’t quite mix. So, it was always important for me to date someone just as focused on building their career over getting married early. Tare is super driven at work, and I love that about her. 

    Tare: What are you marrying for when you haven’t secured the bag, abeg? I’m definitely getting married o. I want a husband. But money first for now.

    Have you guys had a major fight yet?

    Tobi: Remember when I said she didn’t like that I always had my friends at my house? Yeah, that caused several major fights.

    Tare: If you came to Tobi’s three-bed this time last year, you’d meet at least six guys crashing there. He had guys over 100% of the time. Some would even sleep over for months. It wasn’t conducive for me at all.

    Tobi: I knew she was right. But I didn’t want to confront my guys for a while. Most of them support my music hustle. One is a fairly popular hype man. I had a couple of fellow artists and producers or just people with long legs in the industry.

    Right

    Tare: Most of them were dirty. They didn’t mind leaving used plates or clothes everywhere. Usually, I’d just stick to Tobi’s room when I get to his house. But it started feeling like we lived in a self-contained. 

    So sometime last year, I told him he was lying that the flat was his. It’s obvious he only owns his room — you know how friends rent out flats together and then share the rooms? He was so pissed when I said this. 

    Then, about two weeks later, he cleared out the flat. No more hangers-on all over the living room, kitchen and front yard. No more funky smell. It was like magic.

    Tobi: She bruised my ego, and she’s rejoicing. Women!

    Would you say you both hang with your friends less often now that you’ve set boundaries?

    Tare: Yes. I’ve distanced myself, but not so much that I’m isolated. I know I’ll still need my female support. And I’d like to still be there when they need me the most. 

    Tobi: I see my friends less, yes. But I never used to hang with them like that. I don’t really hang with people.

    Tare: He’s too full of himself, don’t mind him.

    Is that true?

    Tobi: I just don’t really rate mindless fun like that. And that’s what most people like having. When I’m not booked and busy with gigs, I’m booked and busy with production jobs. I’ve got to stay focused. And my guys have always understood that. They know I have a babe now, so they just blame it on her, not me.

    Tare: See the way he’s saying it. 

    Well, I’ve also mostly cut off the guys who are against our relationship just because they’re judgemental. I’m pro-supporting women’s (especially friends’) rights and wrongs, please.

    How would you rate your relationship on a scale of 1-10?

    Tobi: 20.

    Tare: God, now I have to say 20, 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.

    Need a heartwarming read? Love Life: People Judge Our Relationship By His Sickle Cell Disorder

  • On a Sunday morning in February 2023, I changed the phone number I’d had since my secondary school graduation when my father bought me my very first smartphone — after a lifetime of digital deprivation — and deleted all my social media accounts, effectively isolating myself from everyone I know. 

    I still live with my parents, so I had no choice but to stay in contact with my immediate family. My 9-to-5 handlers, too, through Slack. 

    But all other gigs were cut off. Every friend I’d gathered over a lifetime, cut off. Extended family weren’t left out. My father’s youngest brother’s “What happened to your phone? It hasn’t gone through in a while?” on his last visit to our house with his wife, was met with a clueless look and my feeble, “Oh really? My phone’s been acting up. I can’t afford to fix it right now.” The most random mention of financial need shuts any concerned individual up in this economy.

    2023 had started with a surprise probation at work, delayed payments from my side gigs, ₦200k+ of my hard-earned money stuck in different banks because the famous cash scarcity had somehow wrecked digital transactions and our landlord threatening to kick us out of the house we’d lived much comfortably in for 15 years. 

    Also, we and the rest of our extended family had lived on my great-grandfather’s estate forever, and the new government had put it under scrutiny.

    I laid in bed that morning, burnt out by Nigeria’s worsening wahala, mounting work KPIs, personal struggles and family drama. But that didn’t stop people from expecting one thing or the other from me. I was missing deadlines, a lot of them. 

    So I switched my Mi-fi sim with my phone’s and never looked back.

    I know I did it because I was emotionally overwhelmed and needed an escape. But what I can’t figure out is why ghosting everyone I knew — most, very intimately — felt like the only way out.

    Everyone I’ve told about this said the same thing: “It was valid. You needed to prioritise your mental health.” According to this study, 54% of Gen Zs and Millennials have ghosted a close friend to avoid confrontation. But who else ghosts everyone they’ve ever known? 84% of Gen Z and Millennials shared that they’ve been ghosted and don’t feel good about it. Everyone I asked about their ghosting experience expressed deep hurt, and sometimes, anger. How could I hurt all these people in this way?

    Everyone is ghosting everyone to avoid confrontation, conflict and difficult conversations. People are so scared of confrontation that they’d rather ignore you forever than speak with you. 

    But I do well with confrontation. I was appointed a student council member in my final year as an undergrad because I always went to the Dean of Student Affairs office to make demands when we were mistreated. A big deal because I wasn’t the usual spec; it was a faith-based university, and I skipped most chapel services and only listened to secular music. At my old job, I was the only one who could get the CEO to make staff-friendly decisions.

    The defining factor in my ghosting tendencies was relationships, especially ones that involved my emotions.

    Ghosting my entire network was the second act in the stage play of my life that followed a lifetime of switching up on relationships once they got too comfortable, or on the other hand, complicated. And this act came with a vengeance.

    In March 2023, I blocked a company and its entire workforce once they started to demand more than was in our initial agreement. In October, I did the same thing to another company. 

    In February 2023, I blocked a client after I missed a deadline because I was too embarrassed about it. PS: I still delivered the job before I blocked him. In July, I blocked my friend of over a decade after I failed to draft some documents I’d promised to help her with. I was overwhelmed and burnt out from helping every other person I’d promised to help that week, and she’d missed an important application in the UK because of it. 

    It’s an endless loop: overpromise, fail, block.

    But when I blocked my fourth romantic prospect in a row to display even a breath of emotional inconsistency during yet another talking stage, I knew it was time to come clean about my commitment issues and address its roots.

    My early years, at least the parts I can remember, were calm but lonely. Nannies raised me — or more accurately, I raised myself — while my parents were out building businesses. 

    Then, secondary school came with semi-retirement for my father, and our home got much hotter. There was nothing he wouldn’t scream about, no one in our family he wouldn’t venomously name-call. But of course, my mother bore the lion’s share of his emotional abuse. I never could pinpoint why he hated her so much. 

    Our family of five is strangely close-knit, and I’m the firstborn, so I know my mother and father well. My mother is the very epitome of gentleness and sacrifice. My father, entitled and insensitive, despite his best efforts. I am the closest child to both of them, and even though their toxic relationship has ruined my life — as you’ll come to read as we go on — I still have candid conversations with both of them.

    And so, I say “best efforts” because he doesn’t believe he’s been abusive. 

    All my life, he’s done well to point out all the good he does for our family when he does them, as though to prove that when things inevitably go sour, he’s justified. Every payment of fees at our expensive private schools was followed by reminders of how great a father he is. 

    So was hiring drivers to take us to and from school in his favourite Mercedes or buying ingredients for a full English breakfast my mother would proceed to slave over the cooker to prepare for the family every morning — we had maids. Still, she was the only one who could make his food. We were reminded that most Nigerians only ate bread and eggs; we had bacon and baked beans and Frankfurters — orange juice and hot chocolate — because of him.

    RELATED: My Dad Left Me To Fend For Myself At 17 — Man Like Leo Dasilva

    We’d soon find out that my mother was funding every one of these purchases.

    However, my first memory of emotional abuse was on a school morning when I was in junior school. It was time to leave, and I couldn’t find my school bag anywhere. I searched for it for a while, but when I realised I was running late, I told my father, who was passing by, about it. The single act triggered a long fight I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

    He started screaming at me. “How could you be so careless? What kind of person loses their bag?” I was an idiot, a fool. My mother came out of whatever room she was in and demanded that he stop calling me names, and he simply redirected his name-calling at her. This went on for a while; the screaming moved from room to room while I sat on our living room floor crying, wanting to die. The last thing I heard from his lips was, “You’ll only end up stupid like your mother.”

    This was funny because, at the time, I was a child genius. I’d been promoted four times in primary school because I kept getting perfect grades, and I needed to be “challenged”. I entered secondary school at eight and was already on the honour roll. I also knew for a fact that I got the brains from my mother. She was smart, at least, book-wise. She ran all my father’s businesses for him in the background. 

    Perhaps, what he meant was stupid enough to keep taking his bullshit.

    We eventually discovered that the driver had proactively carried my bag to the car. There it sat, limp in the backseat when we finally went downstairs. The white daisies on the blue bag are seared in my memory now. After that, the name-calling ran amock. My mother forfeited many opportunities (business, career, relationship, networking, you name it) because of the emotional stress she was under. It eventually ruined her career. 

    We’re the best of friends, my mother and I. I’ve grown to become her support system, voice of reason and shoulder to cry on, and I’ve had this responsibility since my teenage years. She’s told me everything. 

    My father was her first serious relationship. They met in church during NYSC and courted for at least five years before marriage. In all that time, nothing seemed off. The few times they fought, and my mother thought the relationship would end, he’d return with a grand gesture: a handwritten poem, a handmade card, gifts, most of which she still had. I’d read them and still struggle to associate them with the sender.

    They’d met while he was doing missionary work in Bauchi, where she’d served. After her service, they moved to continue the work in Kaduna. She lived with family members. He stayed with church members. When they finally returned to Lagos some years after, her first real red flag was seeing that his father’s estate, which he’d boasted about for a while, was a storey building where he lived with all his adult siblings, some with their children.

    Back in Enugu, her own father, a celebrated chief and architect, had several properties, all of which eclipsed this “huge estate in Lagos”, as he’d called it. But she accepted this revelation, and they got married.

    His grandfather had been a highly-ranked traditional leader — our family comes from a long line of true Eko indigenes — and the plan was to live off his estate while they focused on building a business and funding missionary work. 

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    But that soon fell apart when my mother could no longer stomach the politics it took to get those monthly paychecks. Sometimes, there’d be a family squabble, and the sizable cheques would go “missing” for months. The business wasn’t thriving either because all the revenue went into fuelling power generators because the electricity supply was even more subpar than it is today.

    She had me a year after the wedding and wanted more financial freedom to raise me like she’d been at a good school with multiple extra-curricular activities. She got her first job and had her first post-wedding fight with my father. Basically, she was bringing bad vibes to his dreams of building a successful company and making an impact in the world by bowing to capitalism.

    Once she started working, though, she had to submit all her wages to him. She did this for the next two decades, saving none of it, and still doesn’t understand why. But I know it has everything to do with the foundation of their relationship being church and missionary work in the early 90s. Most Gen Xs at the time believed the husband, AKA the head of the family, had to control the family’s finances. It was all part of the submission of a virtuous woman.

    She trusted him to do what was best for the family. In return, she worked hard to make more money and move up the career ladder. She also worked hard to build their business, bringing valuable contacts they needed from work. My father was streetwise, so he was good at charming these contacts to actually let go of their money. 

    But when things went wrong, as they often do in a place like Nigeria, the house got hot with screaming and name-calling. 

    My mother was either an idiot who never did what she was told (when she didn’t take his advice) or loved to be right and was always eager to say, “I told you so” (when he didn’t take hers). She’d either try to talk some sense into the situation, which would agitate him more or make him walk out, or stay silent and swallow the insults, which would agitate him more or make him walk out. 

    The results were always the same. By 2014, my mother had worked three jobs, even though my great-grandfather’s estate still covered our basic expenses, and the family business was churning out tens of millions. My father claimed to be redirecting these millions into other businesses, so my mother paid me and my siblings’ school fees for years. I got to find this one out after graduating from university. 

    When she eventually quit one job and lost the others, I was happy about it because she was getting old and exhausted. She was finally home and semi-retired so she could get some much-needed rest. Only she couldn’t rest long enough because her free time at home led her to discover that my father had another family and had bought properties in their names.

    Of course, my father has had affairs with other women since as far back as I can remember. 

    He always introduced me to these younger women of different looks, shapes and sizes one way or another. One worked at a popular telecom and always helped us with network issues. One had a husband in the US but lived alone with her daughter in Nigeria; she was responsible for my access to cool new abroad clothes during my first two years in university. She also triggered my germophobia after she told me in gory detail how dirty campus bathrooms can be. Others loved to hang out with me simply because they perceived me as a cool kid. 

    He never introduced them to me as his side-chicks, of course. They were just nice random friends of his. For whatever reason, he imagined that I would be too stupid to figure it out myself. Sometimes, our entire family would visit their families to give the impression that we were all just great friends.

    From 2015 to 2023, we made more and more discoveries about my father’s betrayal. She confronted him with some, but he simply didn’t care about her knowing. 

    Today, they don’t speak, but we all walk around each other in the house because, god forbid, one of them leaves a house they bought together. They’ve blocked each other, ghosted, and done it without the shield of a gadget, the internet or thousands of miles of space like most ghosters are privileged to have.

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    When they have to communicate, they do so through me and my siblings. When he does something to her in private, like walking over her when she tripped or pretending she wasn’t in the room or leaving the house with the doors unlocked when she was the only one home, I was the one she told about it. When she found his other child’s birth certificate in our old house, she sent me a photo. 

    During random conversations about my life, she’d slip in some mistake she’d made in her marriage. Before long, the conversation would become a variation of the same anecdote: all the mistakes she’d made that led her to the toxic situation she was now in, stuck with a man who hates her, struggling to build savings while out of work.

    I’m heartbroken for her and filled with rage for my father on behalf of her. But I’m also heartbroken and filled with rage in my own right. I’ve paid all the house bills and my last brother’s school fees for a year because our inheritance is frozen, my father has blown all our money, and my mother is broke. I don’t know how to process this newfound backbreaking set of responsibilities. 

    My mother has been a source of strength, reassurance and support (even financially) my whole life. But it’s often darkened by her uncertainty about the mistakes she’s made in her own life and her current lack of stability. I’m angry because I know we could’ve done more for each other if she wasn’t in such a weak position. 

    I’m angry because her endurance of my father’s abuse has also affected me in every way possible. 

    I have a debilitating obsession with making people happy with me. I can’t say “no” to people; blocking them is how I do it. I’ve entered situationships with people I don’t like and somehow convinced them I’m in love with them until they wake up to find themselves ghosted. I have out-of-body experiences anytime I’m remotely intimate with anyone, like watching someone else do those things from afar. 

    I don’t trust. I approach every conversation like the person is lying to me, and I only need to play along, act like a fool, tell them exactly what they want to hear, so they can be comfortable. I have knowingly gone along with scams because I didn’t want to disappoint the scammer. In 2021, I lost ₦120k this way. And then, I blocked the person. Imagine blocking a scammer after giving them money, as if they didn’t already plan to block me.

    Speaking of telling people exactly what they want to hear, that’s how I’ve convinced my father we’re on good terms so I can still dispassionately benefit from him. I’ve refused to let anger stop me from getting my dues from him as my father.

    After changing my phone number, I contacted only two of my friends. The first was the one I mentioned earlier, who I’d blocked because I made her miss an application. So she’s now blocked once more. 

    She was my oldest friend, and we’d shared many ups and downs before she japa’d in 2022 with her husband and child. She tried to reach me many times through my mother, who begged me to contact her, but I didn’t. On my birthday in December 2023, she sent me a huge food basket with a dessert cake and a note. I felt awful, but I was now faced with a new issue: how to contact her and explain why I blocked her. So, I stalled. 

    I eventually unblocked and called her on her birthday in January 2024, and as expected, she was kind but cold. Over a decade of friendship lost. I cried myself to sleep that night, as I’d done most nights of my life.

    In February 2024, my mother finally told all five of her siblings in different parts of the world about the situation at home. She told me they’d sympathised with her. They were understanding. 

    They advised her to move into my bedroom. 

    Her eldest even demanded she put me in contact with her — she was also a victim of my earlier mentioned change of phone number — so she could talk to me about confronting my father for how he was treating my mother.

    What struck me was her audacity to believe I hadn’t done so in the last 20+ years of my life. I’ve confronted him for so long that I have nightmares of our fights. I still dream of wild shouting matches with him to this day. But what upset me was their lack of care about how I was doing, how the experience has affected me, how I too needed someone to confront him on my behalf, protect me.

    She will remain blocked, as will the rest of my past, until I can escape it and heal. But is it awful that I also want to get away from my mother? 

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Daniel: No particular memory sticks to mind. 

    We attended the same family church for as long as I can remember. Both our parents were workers. When my family first joined the church, I remember thinking she was such a proper Christian kid.

    Sam: I must’ve been about eight years old when he started attending our church. He was the rebellious type. My first memory of him was when he failed to memorise some Bible passages and couldn’t recite them when our Sunday school teacher asked him to. He wasn’t even sorry. 

    I’m not sure how we became friends, but we eventually did by the time I was 15. I think it was natural because we were around the same age and saw each other at least three days a week. 

    Daniel: Most of us in the same age group just became close.

    When did you realise you liked each other?

    Daniel: It was years after that, in 2014. We were both in uni and had stopped attending that church as regularly. We kept in contact mostly through Facebook and BBM. During one of the holidays, we decided to meet up with two of our other church friends at a mall.

    Sam: I remember seeing him for the first time in about three years and thinking he’d aged well. He was so much more mature-looking.

    Daniel: We took each other a lot more seriously after that. 

    We checked up on each other more, and I noticed our tone was much more earnest. Before then, we’d joke around and sometimes send silly jokes insulting each other. But after that first meeting, we were talking about school, plans for our careers, stuff like that. 

    We didn’t date immediately, though.

    Why not?

    Daniel: It just didn’t occur to us yet.

    Sam: But then, he came to celebrate with me right after my convocation in 2017. He’d graduated the year before, and my school was in a different state from where we lived. He took the three-to-four-hour road trip to come visit me. I was touched.

    Daniel: I still thought of her as a friend at that time, but a very good, important friend.

    Sam: He’s like that in general. He expresses his love for people by physically showing up for them no matter what. 

    Anyway, after he returned home and the fanfare was over, I sat at home for a while, waiting for my NYSC posting and thinking about the few hours we spent together in school. I told God I wanted whoever I ended up with to be as kind and caring as he was.

    How did you start dating?

    Sam: We’ll get there. 

    But first, the NYSC posting came, and I got to stay in PH. We hung out once in a while until he started dating someone else. I became casual friends with her, but when they broke things off barely five months in, I was surprised. I thought they really liked each other. 

    I asked what happened, and he revealed to me for the first time that he had sickle cell. 

    Daniel: Her parents advised her not to get too serious with me, and she thought there was no point delaying the inevitable. It wasn’t the first time, but maybe because I was an adult now, the experience hit me hard.

    Sam: I was heartbroken on his behalf. 

    That night, I researched everything there was to know about the disorder: how it affects people, treatments, cure, life expectancy. I felt so committed to him all of a sudden. The more I read, the more I understood why the girl ran, but it also made me angry at everyone and no one. 

    I was confused because he seemed perfectly healthy to me. I kept thinking back to every time I’d hung out with him for any sign of weakness or pain I might’ve overlooked. I called him the next day and told him not to mind her, that I would be there for him. I was so dramatic.

    How did he respond?

    Sam: He laughed at me and then said, “Thank you.” I could tell he appreciated my support.

    Daniel: I did. I had only Sam, my mum and one of my other friends to lean on at that time. Once we all got jobs, we got busy trying to survive, and I didn’t remember to be heartbroken anymore. 

    Sam: By 2019, we only spoke over the phone maybe once a month. But the conversations were still good. We sent greetings, and sometimes, gifts on important days. 

    Daniel: On my birthday, she ordered food to my office and still apologised that she couldn’t send me a proper gift. That year, apart from my brother in Germany, who sent me £70, no one had sent me anything. I think that’s when it dawned on me that she really cared about me.

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    Did you care about her too?

    Daniel: I cared about her a lot. But I never thought she cared about me half as much until that day. I don’t know why.

    Some weeks later, I decided I wanted to ask her out, but it felt awkward because we’d been friends for so long. I kept telling myself, “Guy, you’ve been friend or even brother-zoned.”

    Sam: Meanwhile, I was there wanting him to like me so badly. 

    I’d dated two guys so far but always wound up comparing them to him. None of them were ever as gentle and good-hearted, not even this one guy I was very physically attracted to.

    Daniel: I eventually worked up the courage to ask her out in July 2020. We met up, and she even kissed me. It was such a happy day.

    What was dating like after almost a decade of friendship?

    Sam: It’s been warm and familiar and comfortable. 

    We get each other almost too much. We had the soft honeymoon period for up to two years, where it was just pure bliss. We’d go on dates, make out for long hours, agree with each other on everything and help each other solve small issues. We even formally met each other’s parents in the first year.

    Daniel: Of course, they already knew each other from church, so they were very excited. They kept saying, “See the way the Lord works?” LMAO.

    Sam, you’ve experienced his crises firsthand?

    Sam: Oh yes. 

    The first experience was scary. He was at home alone, and he called me first. My mind went blank. I dashed to his place without a single plan. But then, I got there, and he had everything figured out. He told me exactly what to do. That first time, we didn’t even have to go to the hospital, but it was quite unsettling to see him writhing in so much pain.

    I cried so much after, and he was the one who still comforted me. Emotions are crazy, but the whole experience made me love him deeper. 

    I thought his health would be the hardest part of our relationship. But everything was fine until I told my parents about it some months later.

    Did they tell you to break up with him?

    Sam: Yes.

    Daniel: It came as a shock to me because I’d grown to believe they loved me. But I also understood they wanted a life free of pain and undue responsibility for their daughter.

    Sam: Over time, my friends and siblings found out about it too. 

    It got worse after we got engaged. I received a constant barrage of “Are you sure you can handle the stress long-term?” “You’ll regret this when you’re older and love has left your eyes” “You’re trying o. It can’t be me.” Someone even blatantly asked me, “Hope you know they die young?”

    It’s amazing how shallow and callous human beings can be, particularly to the people closest to them.

    Daniel: I’m used to being seen as my disease instead of the human that I am. It’s something people do all the time, knowingly or unknowingly. When you have something like sickle cell, diabetes or cancer, it becomes your complete identity.

    Sam: People constantly judge our entire relationship based on it. My friends still greet me with, “How’s it going with him?” They have that look in their eyes that lets you know they’re talking about the sickle cell. They no longer care about other aspects of our relationship.

    How do you both cope?

    Sam: It’s been much better to manage since we moved to Manitoba, Canada, in 2023. We have peace of mind now.

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    Tell us about the other aspects of your relationship

    Daniel: Things have gone smoothly for us. The alienation has drawn us so close to each other that we mostly only rely on ourselves.

    Sam: We understand each other so well now because we’ve spent so much time talking things out and exchanging advice. We’ve spoken about how we want to build our family and raise our children — who’ll be safe from the sickle cell because I’m not a carrier. We could be decisive and strategic about our japa plans because of this as well.

    Daniel: Now that we’re in Canada, we have no choice but to be best friends because there’s no one else to be friends with for now.

    Sam, how do your parents feel about your relationship post-japa?

    Sam: They’re sympathetic over the phone, but mostly, they’ve gotten over their aversion to it. We have many joint conversations between us and both parents. Everyone is at peace and civil.

    Daniel: I still sense their lack of support. They haven’t warmed back up to me to the level we were at before they knew I had sickle cell. And sometimes, they make comments that allude to my weakness or lack of ability to take care of their daughter. Especially her dad.

    Sam: I never sensed this until he brought it up this year. Now, I can sense it in everything they say to him. In all, we reduce our communication with Nigeria to the minimum.

    So will the wedding happen in Canada?

    Daniel: At first, that wasn’t the plan. But it’s becoming more and more likely so. We’ll still try to make sure both our parents and key family members can witness it and mark the day with us. I’m speaking with my dad about it.

    Sam: TBH, we now regret not having a simple court wedding in Nigeria before leaving, at least, for documentation purposes here. That way, we wouldn’t even have had to stress about it now. But somehow somehow, we go run am.

    Daniel: We’re already married in our hearts. Our only concern is legal.

    Sam: We also can’t wait to start with the kids. But I don’t want that to happen until we’re legally married.

    Have you had any major fights yet?

    Daniel: Not really. 

    When we first moved here, we were both quite cranky and had disagreements over the smallest things. But since one of our neighbours said it was a common reaction to the extreme cold after living in a hot environment all our lives, we’ve kind of calmed down.

    Sam: Our relationship is a very soft, gentle one. When we have disagreements, we usually just talk it out. We’ve disagreed over what job opportunities to take, temperature levels — he loves the room to be chilly when he sleeps. 

    Back in Nigeria, we could disagree over things like food. At first, he constantly ordered food for himself without ordering for me, and I used to be so annoyed by it. Nothing serious, though.

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

    Sam: 9. Nothing’s perfect.

    Daniel: I disagree, so 10.

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Ebiye: We met in our faculty building in 200 level. She came to the department office section to see her course advisor as her programme’s class rep. I had a pending issue with a course from the last semester, so I was there to see my HOD.

    I remember she was wearing this bright pink shirt, one of those that’s long enough to cover your thighs.

    Toun: We were studying different programmes in the same faculty, so we crossed paths by chance. 

    But I’d noticed him first during a general class at the lecture theatre the year before. Someone commented on how he’s lowkey fine, and I agreed.

    What happened when you crossed paths?

    Ebiye: We had to wait in the corridor together for a while, so we got to talking. She was with a friend; we spent the time talking about lecturers and the one or two courses we shared. At a point, we exchanged numbers.

    Toun: After that, we chatted over the phone a lot and kept crossing paths.

    When did you realise you liked each other?

    Toun: I think I liked him from day one when I saw him at the lecture theatre. I smiled and thought, “That would be a good guy to be with.” But it was passive. I don’t think I would’ve ever approached him. 

    After we met and started texting, my thought became, “This boy is a stupid person.”

    Ebiye: Wow. Wow.

    I knew I liked her when we started hanging out towards the end of the semester. I asked her to come out one evening; we went on a stroll and then got drinks. I thought she was cool. I knew we’d be hanging out more.

    How did you know?

    Ebiye: I was just drawn to her. I liked how she smelt. I liked how she talked about things. She didn’t take things too seriously, and I like to surround myself with people who are relaxed. Life is already stressful enough. 

    I also really wanted to kiss her at least once.

    Toun: Which is what he texted me that night after I’d gotten back to my room.

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    Was that the beginning of a relationship?

    Toun: Yes, even though the relationship had no name for a while. We just went out together from time to time, normal broke undergrad outings to Coldstone and Filmhouse. He’s also behind my first clubbing experience. 

    But what we had never really went beyond casual.

    Ebiye: We were focused on school, and we had a lot of mutual friends of both genders. It always felt like we were all just guys.

    Toun: But then, two months after we met, we had sex for the first time and that changed things.

    Ebiye: The sex was eye-opening.

    In what ways?

    Ebiye: We’re really compatible in that aspect.

    Toun: But everything else? God, abeg.

    Ebiye: After that year, we realised we didn’t like each other like that. But we couldn’t stop the sex part. Like, we’d still meet up for it, and when we did it, it was always the best thing ever. So we never stopped. Because of that, we haven’t been able to date other people. 

    Toun: Not yet, at least.

    Ebiye: We haven’t had the time to meet anyone we really like.

    So you’re like… friends with benefits?

    Ebiye: Yes and no. Our friends still consider us boyfriend and girlfriend. Our parents too.

    Toun: Well, my mum. My dad doesn’t know about us at all.

    Ebiye: In school, we went out from time to time, but we had sex any chance we got. Since graduation last year, we’ve drifted a bit. We still call and text most nights, but every time we talk about what we are, I feel somehow.

    Toun: We’re just confused about it. I don’t even know what the issue is. I think we like each other but just not well enough to commit.

    Why have sex then?

    Ebiye: That’s like asking why eat junk food. It feels so good.

    Toun: The sex is the only reason why I haven’t gone into depression now that we’re in NYSC. Everything’s just hard. I have this anxiety about my career and making money, and I don’t even know what I’m passionate about.

    Ebiye: Same. 

    Serving in Lagos together has now made it easy for us to stick together even though we’ve drifted apart in some ways.

    Toun: Our relationship has basically been 95% sex, 5% vibes this last year, I won’t lie.

    How long do you see it lasting?

    Toun: No idea. I’m lowkey scared we’d be one of those people from Nollywood movies who fall in love and get married to a new person but can’t stop fucking their first.

    Ebiye: Like go back to their ex’s bed the night before and after their wedding?

    Toun: They’ll catch us and disgrace us all over social media. God, abeg.

    Have you tried getting external advice?

    Toun: My friends think we should just break up. I’ve tried. But this sex thing. I wouldn’t dare ask my mum about it, and I can’t afford therapy right now. I’m also the oldest, so no older siblings to confide in.

    Ebiye: I don’t confide much in my friends. A lot of my guys are also friends with her, so I don’t want them thinking anything stupid about her. Same reason I haven’t really talked about it to my brothers. 

    But I have this older female cousin, and she thinks we’re just overthinking the whole thing.

    Toun: I’ve also not approached it like it’s a problem. He’s actually been a great support system during this time when I’m confused about everything to do with my life.

    Ebiye: But I don’t want us to settle and then come to resent each other in the future.

    [ad]

    So you just meet and have sex? How does it work?

    Toun: Pretty much. We have NYSC jobs now, so our relationship is meeting up during or after work to chat, eat together or have sex. I don’t even have time for my friends or anything else these days.

    Ebiye: Since we started NYSC, we’ve had sex at my place up to four times a week. It’s how we ease the stress of adulting.

    Have you ever had a pregnancy scare?

    Ebiye: She’s missed her period a few times.

    The first was in October 2022. I’ll never forget that night. I almost died when she texted me that it was almost two weeks late. I couldn’t sleep well for a week. We didn’t talk for almost another week. I remember foolishly planning my speech on how I’d do my best to support her, how I wouldn’t abandon her. I was just gassing myself up. LMAO.

    Toun: Thankfully, my period eventually came.

    Now, I have an implant. The anxiety wasn’t worth it.

    How did you know to get that?

    Toun: My mum. 

    She obviously doesn’t know how much sex we’re having. But in final year, she sat me down and asked if I was still a virgin, and I told her the truth. Right after graduation, she paid for me to get an implant at a proper facility. 

    It also regulates my period, so that was another plus.

    Ebiye: We also regularly go get tested together because we stopped using condoms. We went twice last year. Each time, I’d think about my life, and how I didn’t consent to this level of adulting. It helps us bond but also has a way of draining what little romance might’ve existed between us.

    Does this affect the sex in any way?

    Ebiye: Actually, we’re so free now when it comes to sex. We try out a lot of things. No one is shy anymore. 

    Toun: I think it’s actually gotten better.

    Have you guys had a major fight yet?

    Toun: I don’t think so. We’re too much of jokers to fight like that.

    Ebiye: I think the highest we’ve fought over is random arguments with our other friends. Maybe about some Twitter trend or Tinubu or something.

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

    Toun: I don’t even know. Should we be rating it at this point?

    Ebiye: 10. We understand each other, and I feel good when I’m with you.

    Toun: Aww. My own is sha 5 until we figure things out.

    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.

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