This article is part of Had I Known, Zikoko’s theme for September 2025, where we explore Nigerian stories of regret and the lessons learnt. Read more Had I Known stories here.
When Esther* (27) thinks about the boldest thing she’s ever done for love, it’s not the nights she stayed up making course notes for Gregory*, her first love. It’s not even writing his tests for him when they first started dating. It’s the tattoo on her left breast that still reads: “Greg’s Bitch.”
Now, a decision made in the heat of youthful love threatens her current relationship.
When you’re done reading, you’ll get to decide: Did she fuck up or not?
This is Esther’s dilemma, as shared with Adeyinka
I met Gregory in 200 level. We were in the same department and always ran into each other during group assignments. He was funny, brilliant and really calm-headed. By the end of the semester, I was convinced we were going to get married.
We became inseparable. We always had long late-night calls, long walks back from class, and spent our afternoons in the cafeteria. It felt really beautiful to experience his love.
When graduation drew closer, the thought of long-distance terrified me. Friends and coursemates around us said distance ruined relationships, and we’ll most likely part ways. I didn’t want that to be us.
One day, while we were joking about how people prove love, Gregory said he could never do something crazy like getting a tattoo of someone’s name. I don’t know what got into me, but something inside wanted to prove him wrong. A week later, I went with a friend and got the tattoo. Not just his name, I told the artist to write “Greg’s Bitch” on my breast.
It sounds ridiculous now, but at the time, it felt daring and super hot. When I showed Gregory, he was shocked but also flattered. He laughed about it first, then admitted it made him proud, like he was really mine. I felt like I’d done something special for us.
We managed to date for about a year after graduation, even when he moved to Abuja for NYSC and I stayed back in Ibadan. At first, it was sweet. We continued with constant video calls, weekend visits when we could and lots of reassurance. But slowly, the excitement wore off. The communication wasn’t as constant, and the visits became less frequent because we both had busy schedules. By the end of 2022, we broke up. We tried to make it amicable, but it hurt to realise that our love couldn’t survive long distance.
Since Gregory, I never really got into a serious relationship. I dated casually but avoided anything that looked like love. Then I met Tunde* last year. He was a really cool guy — patient, funny in a dry way, and consistent in showing up for me. Things grew serious quickly between us, and for the first time since Gregory, I thought about pursuing another serious relationship that could potentially lead to marriage.
The problem started the first time we got intimate. I noticed he avoided my breasts completely. When I asked, he brushed it off with, “I’m not really a boobs person.” I believed him at first. But as things got deeper, I realised it wasn’t true. One day, he admitted it was because of the tattoo. According to him, it made my body feel like another man’s property.
Since that day, the tattoo has become an elephant in the room. Even when we don’t talk about it, I see how it bothers him. He doesn’t touch me the way he wants to because of it, and I can feel his hesitation. He’s hinted — and sometimes outright said — that if we’re going to take things to the next level, the tattoo has to go.
I understand his point of view. I sometimes hate seeing the tattoo myself. But it’s not that easy. Two years ago, I had a lump taken out of the same breast. It wasn’t cancerous, thank God, but the experience was scary. Since then, I’ve been nervous about doing anything invasive in that area. Laser removal feels risky. The thought of willingly letting someone burn into my skin where I already had surgery terrifies me.
What hurts is the way he goes about it. If he had come to me with empathy and said, “Babe, I know this is sensitive but let’s look at options together,” maybe I’d feel differently. Instead, it often feels like an ultimatum. He brings it up when we’re discussing the future, like, “If you’re serious about us, you’ll do it.” It makes me feel cornered, like my health concerns don’t matter as much as his discomfort.
I regret the tattoo. I won’t lie. It felt like a bold, romantic gesture at 20, but at 27, it just feels childish. But I also don’t like the pressure Tunde puts on me. He says he wants us to get married next year, but this issue keeps hanging over us. Part of me wonders if I should just risk the laser removal and be done with it. Another part of me thinks if he truly loves me, he should be able to accept my past without forcing me to erase it.
I don’t know if I’m holding on to pride or if I’m right to stand my ground.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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