For most Muslims, Ramadan is a month of fasting, abstinence from everything considered “haram”, and increased devotion. But for single Muslims, it can also be a month of deep longing — whether for companionship, emotional intimacy, or simply someone to share sahur and iftar with. While married couples enjoy the privilege of breaking their fast together, praying side by side, and even indulging in halal intimacy after iftar, singles often experience the opposite: solitude, temptation, and, in some cases, an overwhelming sense of loneliness.
We spoke to seven Nigerian muslims about what it feels like to navigate Ramadan alone.
“Ramadan makes my sexual urges feel tripled”
Ramadan is a time for spiritual cleansing, but for some single Muslims, it’s also a time when their physical desires become harder to ignore. For *Faruq, 25, resisting temptation becomes an even bigger challenge during this period.
“I don’t know what it is, but during Ramadan, my sexual urges go into overdrive. Maybe it’s because I know I shouldn’t be thinking about it, or maybe it’s just the test of discipline that comes with the holy month. But wallahi, it’s like my body is actively fighting my mind.
I try to stay focused — fasting, praying, avoiding triggers — but the thoughts still creep in. And the worst part? I’m not even married, so there’s no halal outlet for these desires. Some days, I find myself wishing I already had a wife because at least, marital intimacy is allowed after iftar. I won’t lie, I’ve slipped a few times. I’m not proud of it, but self-pleasure sometimes feels like the only way to keep my head straight. And then I feel guilty after, questioning if my fast is even valid. The cycle of restraint, struggle, and guilt is exhausting, but I’m doing my best. May Allah make it easy for all of us.”
“I don’t even have someone to remind me it’s time for sahur”
*Amina’s, 27, biggest struggle isn’t loneliness; it’s waking up on time.
“Sahur is always a struggle for me because I sleep like a log of wood. When I was in a relationship, my ex would call or text to wake me up, but now, nobody is checking for me. I’ve missed sahur so many times that I’ve started setting three alarms and keeping my phone volume at the loudest just so I don’t oversleep. It’s making me realise that small things like this are why having a partner makes life easier. Who knew I’d miss something as simple as a 4 a.m. wake-up call?”
“Being around family helps, but the backhanded comments? Whew”
*Hafsat, 31, enjoys being with her family during the holy month, but they come with a side of unsolicited commentary.
“I won’t lie, I’m grateful for my family. If I lived alone, I’d probably fall into depression during Ramadan. My mum makes sure I never miss sahur, my siblings keep me entertained, and iftar is always a full house with food that slaps. But the moment I sit down to eat, someone must mention marriage. I try to laugh it off, but sometimes, the comments really hit home. I know they mean well, but can I eat my food in peace? I try to remind myself that at least I have my family around me. It’s not the worst thing in the world to be single, but sometimes, it feels like it.”
TAKE THE QUIZ: How Well Do You Know Ramadan?
“Ramadan feels lonelier than ever this year”
For *Ameen, 25, Ramadan used to be filled with the warmth of community, but after relocating, the loneliness has been overwhelming.
“Back in Lagos, Ramadan never felt isolating. There was always a mosque nearby, Muslim friends to break my fast with, and a sense of belonging that made everything easier. But since moving to the East, I feel so alone. My family is Christian, and even though they respect my decision to fast, they don’t really understand it. I break my fast alone, sahur is lonely, and I can’t even hear the call to prayer from any mosque because the nearest one is miles away.
I’ve tried to make the best of it. I follow my Muslim friends online, join virtual Islamic discussions, and watch Ramadan lectures on YouTube, but nothing replaces the feeling of physically being part of a Muslim community. Some nights, I want to cry from how lonely it feels. I know this is supposed to be the time when I strengthen my faith, but it’s hard when I feel so disconnected. I keep telling myself that Allah sees my efforts, even if I don’t have a community around me. That’s the only thing that keeps me going.”
“Iftar at the mosque reminds me that I don’t have my own family yet”
For many, iftar at the mosque is a beautiful communal experience, but for *Imran, 39, it’s a reminder of what he doesn’t have — his own home, wife, and children to share it with.
“Every evening, I sit on the mosque floor, breaking my fast with strangers who, by now, feel like brothers. And while I love the sense of community, I can’t help but feel the absence of my own family. I see married men rushing home after Maghrib to eat with their wives. I hear fathers on the phone telling their kids to behave. And here I am, wondering when it’ll be my turn. I used to think I had time, but now, at 39, it’s hitting me differently.”
“I spend most of my free time at the mosque”
For *Fatai, 48, Ramadan used to be an intimate period filled with the chatter of his late wife and children around the dining table. But since losing his wife three years ago and sending his children off to university, the silence in his home has become deafening.
“It’s just me and the maid now, but she’s not Muslim and doesn’t even speak Yoruba fluently. So, there’s not much conversation between us. I eat suhoor and iftar alone, and sometimes, it feels like I’m fasting in isolation.
The only thing that makes it bearable is going to the mosque. There, I get to be around people, hear laughter, exchange pleasantries. It reminds me that I’m not entirely alone. But the second I step back into my house, it all comes rushing back.”
“Going to Tarawih alone makes me wish I had a praying partner”
For *Demola, Ramadan nights are beautiful, but they also highlight the fact that he doesn’t have a special someone to share them with.
“Tarawih is one of my favourite parts of Ramadan, but walking to and from the mosque alone makes me realise how much I crave companionship. I see couples walking hand in hand, sometimes with their kids, and it stings. Not because I’m jealous, but because I know I’d love that for myself too. Praying alone is fine, but sometimes, I just want someone to say ‘Ameen’ beside me.”
If you can relate to these stories or know someone experiencing similar, here’s an article with useful and practical tips on managing loneliness during Ramadan.
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