For Precious* (24), love often meant putting her needs second while managing the needs of others. She didn’t realise how much of herself she was losing until one jarring moment forced her to confront the truth.
She opens up about her partners, the manipulation she didn’t recognise as abuse, and what led her to finally choose herself.
What’s your current relationship status, and how do you feel about it?
I’m single and not ready to mingle. I feel at peace with myself.
Walk me through your dating life. How did you get here?
Growing up in a very churchy environment, dating always felt like a sacred thing. I didn’t enter any relationships until my first year in uni. But the real street era began after my first relationship ended.
I started dating Obi* in my first year, and things were okay until he graduated. The original plan was for him to stay in the same city and find work, but he got a job somewhere else without telling me.
That was the final straw. I’ve never liked the idea of long-distance, and by that time, I was already emotionally checked out. We dragged things for a bit, but I eventually left. I stayed single for over a year, with some situationships in between.
What were the early days of dating Obi like for you?
Honestly, I thought dating would feel magical, but I got thrown into the deep end way too quickly. Because of how I was raised, I stayed away from anything romantic all through secondary school. So, when I got into university, it felt like getting into a relationship was some rite of passage. It just had to happen.
Obi was the first person who offered me actual commitment, so I just said yes. We hadn’t even seen each other yet; he asked me out over text after we’d been talking for a month. When we finally met in person, he officially asked again, and I agreed, not really knowing him.
I didn’t even consider the age gap of 8 years between us.
Woah. Did that affect the relationship?
Definitely. I was 18, and he was about to turn 27. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, but looking back, it shaped our entire relationship.
He was very traditional and serious-minded — a proper millennial. Meanwhile, I’m Gen Z and in med school. I needed my downtime, and I’d do regular things like binge-watching Nella Rose on YouTube. He hated that. He thought I should be watching self-help content and constantly improving myself.
It felt like I had to audition for his love by acting like a wife. He’d ask me to call and greet his mum every Sunday, or she would be angry. I didn’t even call my own parents that frequently, so it felt ridiculous.
That’s a lot of pressure.
Yes. And it got worse. A year into the relationship, when I was just 19, he said that by the time I got to 400 level, I should pause school so we could get married. He even said I wouldn’t have kids yet — just marry him and resume after.
It was clear he didn’t want to wait six years for me to finish school and possibly move on. He wanted to “secure” me because there were other issues with our relationship.
That’s when I started trying to find a way out. His moving cities gave me the perfect excuse.
You mentioned other issues. What else made you want to leave?
He had a problem with my feminism. He didn’t like the people I followed — like Jola and MO — and wanted me to stop listening to them. I brushed it off until one day, a random guy he invited to clean the house started talking trash about women’s bodies. Obi didn’t just allow it, he laughed along.
That was when I realised he didn’t want a partner. He wanted someone he could mold and control. Even the way he talked down to his female best friend was wild. He’d tell me about how she always called to beg for money, and that girls who do that are prostitutes.
So, imagine my shock when I saw their wedding pictures barely four months after we broke up. He married her.
Wow. That must’ve stung.
Surprisingly, it didn’t. I didn’t expect it, but it didn’t really hurt. I had already detached emotionally. When I confronted him, he said she had always liked him, and that he didn’t hate her. According to him, they wanted the same things, so it just made sense to move on and get married instead of waiting around for me.
The clarity was jarring, but it also gave me closure. Around that same time, I met Lilian and that changed everything.
How so?
She was someone I found really attractive, but I thought it was just admiration. Then one day, she hugged me, and my heart raced. That was when I realised I also liked women.
We started hanging out and made out a couple of times. At first, I was skeptical because I still had Obi lurking around, and she had just come out of a breakup. But she said, “I like you, and I don’t care about your relationship.”
We started dating casually, but the moment she had me, she changed. She had to move away, and I thought distance was what caused her newfound coldness. So I told my parents I was going to a church event and went to visit her in Abuja.
She was just as cold in person. That trip confirmed my fears: she was using me as a rebound. When I confronted her, she said, “You misunderstood. I like you, but not the way you like me.” That was my worst heartbreak ever.
How did that experience affect you?
It made me more guarded with women. I realised women are more emotionally complex and often less direct about their feelings. Unlike with men, where you can usually tell if they’re interested, with women, I started second-guessing myself. I didn’t want to make the first move and be wrong, so I became less bold. Since Lilian, I’ve had a few flings, but we wanted different things. I wanted a soulmate I wouldn’t hide, while they wanted a passing thing.
What happened after Lilian?
I fell into a rebound with a male corper in my neigborhood. I was on holiday at the time, and it was a purely physical, friends-with-benefits thing. It didn’t mean anything. It went on for a couple of months before he left.
Then I met Judah* when I was posted to a remote village for my internship. My phone was bad, and I was very lonely. I clung to the first kind person I met. He seemed funny and nice.
Our bond grew quickly. Things turned physical, and while it was supposed to be a fling, he gaslit me into a relationship. That’s when the manipulation began.
What kind of manipulation?
He never took “no” for an answer — not aggressively, but in a way that wore me down. He’d beg, plead, and make me feel guilty until I gave in. That’s how the relationship even started, and it became the pattern for our sex life.
He’d say things like, “I could die if we don’t have sex,” and if I didn’t give in, he’d withdraw emotionally. I couldn’t handle being ignored, so I mostly gave in.
It was manipulative, but I didn’t see it that way at the time. I’d tell myself, “He really wants this. What does it hurt?” Especially because I feared how he’d behave if he didn’t get what he wanted.
I’m sorry about that.
It was a lot. Eventually, my body started reacting on its own. I’d flinch when he touched me. Still, I kept convincing myself he wasn’t the problem. One time, I was down with malaria and a UTI. He kept checking on me, and I realised it was only so he could know when I’d be “well enough” for sex again.
At some point, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything with him — not even a kiss. Then he suggested we open the relationship. He said it was so I could “explore,” like he was doing me a favour. But it was really about him. He was the one who couldn’t go without sex.
I was furious and yet, I stayed for six more months.
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Why did you stay?
At the time, I didn’t think there was enough reason to leave. I believed that as long as a man didn’t cheat, every other issue was just “minor.” That was how I justified both my first relationship and Judah. I never caught Obi cheating, and with Judah, he wasn’t exactly forcing me.
I didn’t realise how warped my thinking had become. The truth is, I was uncomfortable. I just didn’t know how to name it. He wasn’t raping me, but he wore me down emotionally until I gave in. If I said no, he’d beg or sulk until I felt guilty enough to say yes. And I convinced myself that if he ever went out to sleep with someone else, it would be my fault for not giving him what he wanted.
Thankfully, after our big fight about opening the relationship, something shifted. I started pulling away and began socialising more. He hated it, but it helped me reclaim pieces of myself. One night, I went to a house party and danced with this guy. We were vibing, and then he leaned in to kiss me. I quickly said no.
How did he react?
I braced for a cold reaction. I expected him to withdraw or try again or ask why. But he just nodded and kept dancing. He didn’t ask again or change his attitude. He simply respected my no, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That moment was a revelation. I realised I had never experienced that in my relationship with Judah. That was the night the relationship ended for me, even though we didn’t officially break up until some weeks later.
It’s been a year since then, and I’ve been single ever since. Because now, I know I deserve much better.
Phew. I’m glad you left. Is there any hope of dating again?
Definitely. I know there are good people out there, like the guy from the party. I’m not rushing, but when I’m ready, I believe I’ll meet someone who respects and values me.
How has your time on the streets changed your view of love?
It made me realise it has to be all or nothing. If I can’t see myself being in an exclusive relationship with you, I’m not wasting my time. Love isn’t meant to be transactional or exhausting.
How would you rate single life on a scale of 1-10?
6.5/10. It’s not perfect, but I’m comfortable. I’m healing, growing, and learning more about myself. That feels good.
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