*Toluwani, 29, didn’t grow up dreaming about marriage. But after two years of being married to a man who’s still her best friend, she’s realising that the hardest part of marriage isn’t the love — it’s figuring out what to eat every day and building a stable life in Nigeria while staying true to yourself and your partnership.
This is a look into Toluwani’s marriage diary.
I didn’t grow up dreaming of marriage
My mum’s reality shaped my view of marriage. She was separated from my dad for as long as I could remember. I never saw her entertain male friends or date anyone. Her entire energy was poured into raising me and my siblings. Any spare time she had, she spent it with her sisters. As a teenager, when I started learning about sex and relationships, I used to wonder why my mum never dated. But I never asked. Watching her live that way didn’t make me dream of marriage.
Moving out of my family home after the wedding broke me
After our wedding, my husband and I didn’t move in together immediately. He was still finalising a transfer at work, so we continued with our lives as if we were still dating. I stayed at my mum’s, and he’d visit every now and then. That went on for four months.
Then one day, it was time to finally move. I broke down as I packed up the room I’d lived in my whole life. I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t second-guessing the marriage or doubting my husband — it was just grief. Saying goodbye to my space, my family, my comfort was harder than I thought it would be. I remember my mum walking in and asking if I was okay. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the whole truth, so I simply said, “I’ll miss my room.”
And that was true. But it was more than that. I was mourning the version of myself I was leaving behind.
The biggest fights we’ve had were about food, and they taught me how to actually listen
Nobody warned me how chaotic food would be in marriage. We’ve had some of our biggest arguments around the question: “What are we going to eat?” It sounds silly until you realise you’re dealing with two exhausted people, trying to navigate adulthood, who are suddenly responsible for each other’s nutrition.
My husband and I share cooking duties. He goes to the market, and he can throw down in the kitchen. But still, we find ourselves in this endless loop of not knowing what to eat. And when you’re tired and hungry, that question feels like war.
One of our earliest disagreements was during our first week of living together. He had spent the entire day lifting heavy stuff and setting up our new place, while I was in the room arranging the wardrobe. I didn’t realise how hungry he was. When he asked what we’d eat, I casually replied, “I don’t know; I’ve also been busy.”
He didn’t yell. He quietly entered the kitchen, made noodles for both of us, and spent the rest of the day silent. Then the next day. Then the next. He didn’t let me enter the kitchen — just kept cooking and ignoring me.
Eventually, we talked. That’s when I learned that when he says, “I’m hungry,” he’s not demanding food from me. He just needs me to indulge him in that moment. Sometimes, all he needs is a suggestion or even just empathy. That situation changed how I listen. I learned not to hear something else in place of what he’s actually saying. These days, I try to respond with care and concern — even if I’m exhausted. Because hunger is a real trigger for him, and ignoring it only escalates things.
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Marriage didn’t change me, adulthood did
I wouldn’t say marriage has changed me. It’s adulthood that has. My husband and I are the same age, so we’re both figuring life out simultaneously. There’s no “more experienced” partner to lean on. We’re hustling together, building together, failing and getting back up together.
This shared responsibility has forced us to grow up fast. I miss the younger version of myself — the playful, carefree woman who didn’t have to think about raising a family, saving for the future or navigating Nigeria’s economic chaos.
Some days, I wonder if marriage would feel different if I married someone older, someone who already had some stability. But we’re in this together, and I’m proud of what we’re building — even if it doesn’t always feel joyful in the way I imagined.
We haven’t had to make big compromises — yet
We’ve pulled our weight individually and together in our two years of marriage. I haven’t had to make any significant compromises yet. But I worry about the future, especially when we start having kids. I’ve tried bringing it up, but my husband always says, “When we get to that bridge, we’ll cross it.”
For now, I believe him. I don’t like projecting into the future too much. I’ve learned that the best way to approach marriage is with as few expectations as possible. If there’s anything I’d tell my unmarried self, it’s this: Don’t go in with expectations. Not good ones. Not bad ones. Just go in with an open mind. Let each day teach you what marriage is.
So many people are miserable in their marriages because they’re chasing an image they built in their heads. And when reality doesn’t match, they become resentful. I didn’t go into marriage with a picture-perfect fantasy, and I think that’s helped me roll with the punches.
We’ve been married two years, and I won’t pretend we’ve figured it all out. But I also won’t borrow grief from the future. Kids will come. New phases will come. And we’ll figure it out when we get there, just like we’ve figured out everything else.
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