Pregnancy is full of beautiful and challenging moments, but the days and weeks after delivery can be some of the most physically and emotionally demanding times in a woman’s life. For many new mothers, a supportive partner can make all the difference, from running errands and cooking to simply holding their hand through late-night feedings.
In this story, five Nigerian women share how their husbands showed up for them after childbirth.
“He was my support when we were alone in the UK” — Bemi*, 29
Bemi’s pregnancy journey was smooth, but childbirth tested her strength. Her husband became the pillar of support she needed to make it through the first months of motherhood.
“My husband was my pillar of strength and support after we had our baby girl. We were in the UK and neither of our relatives could come, so we only had each other to lean on.
Thankfully, we had our baby in December, so he got two weeks of paternity leave along with the Christmas holidays. During the one month he was around, I could rest and let someone else take over from me when I was exhausted. It was great. He’d already taken over cooking during my pregnancy, so I always had enough to eat without stressing.
After I delivered, he helped massage my tummy and body with hot water. I also had a nasty tear the doctors couldn’t stitch because of its awkward position, so I had to sit in hot water and dettol every day. Each time I went through the hot water treatment, he stayed beside me and encouraged me.
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He did everything he could to make my life easier. When I struggled to lactate, he researched ways to help me produce more milk. He even bathed the baby for weeks because I was afraid of dropping her. All I had to do was dress her. I truly felt loved and cared for during that period. I deeply appreciate him.”
“My husband supported us with money but not much else” — Dupe*, 58
When Dupe had her first female child, her husband wasn’t in town to help. But his attitude changed when they welcomed a boy.
“My husband supported us with money, but didn’t do anything else. He was out of town when our first child, a girl, was born. He really wanted a boy, so once he heard we were fine, he didn’t return until a day before her naming ceremony.
He gave us enough money for everything: baby clothes, food and maids — since both our mothers were late. But he barely looked at the baby. He took some photos with her at the naming ceremony, then travelled again for months. He was a bit warmer when he returned, but he made it clear we had to try for a boy as soon as I was ready.
Three years later, we had a son, and that changed everything. He was present for the delivery and fed me after I delivered. He even learned to bathe and feed the baby for the first year. His support really helped because I could focus on night feedings and caring for our first child.
I try not to think of what would have happened if our second child had been another girl, but God knew what He was doing when He gave us a boy.”
“He would sleep on the floor just to be close to me and the baby” — Tumininu*, 24
Tumininu shares how her husband’s support helped her through the ups and downs of the postpartum phase.
“There was nothing my husband didn’t do to support me after I put to bed. He cooked for me and my mum, so we wouldn’t stress. He woke up in the middle of the night to care for the baby, so I could sleep comfortably. He also slept on the floor beside my bed for the first few nights. There was a bed in another room, but he wanted to be close to us.
He handled all our laundry, including our first child’s, and made spicy noodles for me whenever I wanted it. He also never made me feel odd about the changes my body went through. He even loves playing with my fupa, I still don’t understand it.
Now that I’m away for school with the baby, I miss him so much that I cry sometimes. But he texts every hour, no matter how busy he is, and calls when I’m offline. He makes such an effort to be present in our lives that it feels like he’s right beside me sometimes.
He has a beautiful relationship with our first daughter and cares for her so lovingly that I’m not worried about her now that I’m not around for the school session. He has been my rock since we started this journey together, and I love him for it.”
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“My husband would wake up with me to feed and burp the baby” — Damilola*, 31
From the moment she found out she was pregnant until after the baby was born, Damilola felt her husband’s support every step of the way.
“I definitely felt supported. It was my first pregnancy, so I threw up a lot, but my husband cleaned up after me without a single complaint. Before I got pregnant, he already helped with chores, but he took on all of them so I didn’t have to stress.
We attended every antenatal and postnatal appointment together. When we needed to find a suitable hospital for the delivery, he spent days searching for the best options.
At some point, I had to resign from my job, and he took on one more job to cover our bills. I was at the hospital for four days because I had a long labour, and he was with me the entire time, even though we were in the middle of moving apartments. After delivery, I had a sulcus tear (vaginal wall tear), and he’s been very patient with me when it comes to having sex.
Our baby doesn’t take formula, so I had to breastfeed every night. He always woke up with me, burped the baby afterwards and made sure I got enough rest in the morning. He also does our grocery shopping and the baby’s laundry, and generally just takes care of us.
Our baby is almost 6 months old, and I’m just now planning to get another job. But he’s assured me that I can take all the time I need to get better.
I doubt I can remember everything, but I feel very supported by my partner.”
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“He encouraged me a lot, but I think he was scared of touching the baby” — Simi*, 50
Simi’s husband didn’t help with the baby physically, but she appreciated his constant encouragement.
“I think my husband was scared of our first child when I had him. He’d look at him in his cot, but only carry him for short periods before giving him back to me or my mum.
My sister and a maid came to help me after I came home from the hospital, so he didn’t have much to do anyway. However, he helped a lot during the naming ceremony. He coordinated the cooks and servers, but barely touched the baby. Any chance he got, he would come to our room and greet me, “well done”. He could do it fifty times a day.
He got better when our child started walking. He would carry and bathe him occasionally. I felt supported because he paid for everything. He did as much as I expected a man to do when a baby arrives.”
Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.
When Aduke* (22) hit it off with Michael* (21), she thought they were going to become a couple.
She was shocked at first when he dumped her for another girl in their class, but shock quickly changed to satisfaction after she saw how that relationship unfolded.
How did you feel when you realised it was over between you and Michael?
At first, I was gutted. He was the first person I ever had strong feelings for, and to be cast aside like I was nothing cut deeply. But nothing made me happier than seeing what that girl did to him.
Before we get into that, take me back to the beginning. How did you meet?
We were taking the same elective course in 2018. He was good looking but what drew me to him was that he was the smartest person in our class. He got my number from the course group chat and texted one day asking me out for lunch, and I said yes.
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How did the date go?
It was amazing. We started having lunch together every day even though we were in different faculties. We also texted each other every single day just to catch up. Soon, I realised I had feelings for him. I tried to hide it because I didn’t have much experience with boys, but he caught on. One day in May 2018, after our usual lunch together, he confessed he liked me, and I told him about my feelings.
So you started dating?
No, it was more like a situationship. We kissed a few times and went on a few movie dates, but we wanted to take it slow. I was fine with this, but less than a month after he confessed to me, Michael started acting strangely.
How do you mean?
At first he started missing my calls. He would then text me in the evening saying he was busy and wasn’t able to talk. I found this surprising because this boy had once left mass just to pick up my call.
The biggest shock was when he started missing lunch. Suddenly, his timetable was clashing with our lunch hours and we could only have lunch once a week on the weekend.
How did you handle these sudden changes?
I tried to be understanding at first. Michael was on a first class and I didn’t want to distract him. I also figured that since we were taking it slow, it was all part of our gradual shift into becoming romantic partners. I kept making these excuses for his behaviour till a friend of mine gave me some shocking gist.
What did you hear?
She told me how a girl in her hostel, Janet*, was raving about her new boyfriend, Michael. After listening to her description of him, she became sure it was “my” Michael and came to tell me as soon as possible.
Did you ask him about this new babe?
Yes o. I told him I wanted to see him in person urgently, so he came to my hostel the next evening. When I asked him about Janet, he became sheepish and gave me a hollow apology about how he didn’t know how it happened, but he had fallen for her. It was a foolish excuse because I knew it was because she had the biggest bum in that class.
How did his response make you feel?
It pained me like mad. It felt like a gut punch, but I was determined to be cool about it, so I kept my distance from both of them. But nothing made me feel better than seeing the way she treated him during their relationship.
Ah, what did Janet do to him?
She showed Michael premium pepper. First, she had him on a tight leash. He wasn’t allowed to do tutorials anymore because she didn’t like “girls flocking around him.” Then, just a month after they started dating, Janet cheated on him. Not just once o, but for the rest of their four-month relationship. It was so funny to hear him crashing out when he caught her making out with someone else one evening.
Did he try to reach out to you during this time?
Yes he did. He came to ask for my advice in August. He wanted to know whether to leave her or forgive her again for her many indiscretions.
What did you tell him?
I told him to follow his heart. He forgave her again, but she eventually left him for a richer guy in September. It was his turn to be heartbroken, and I can’t lie, I enjoyed seeing him feel the same thing I felt.
How was your relationship with Michael after his break-up?
The same way it was after he broke my heart; we were acquaintances. He tried to ask me again for lunch after his split with Janet, but I lied and told him I was busy. I wasn’t about to let anyone “manage” me because they couldn’t get the person they wanted.
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Did this experience affect the way you saw love?
Not really. I just charged it to the game and kept it pushing. I even had other crushes before the end of that year. I believe your person is yours, and if another person can “steal” them away, then they weren’t really for you.
What lesson did you take away from this experience with Michael?
I learned that what goes around comes around sooner than you’d expect. It was very satisfying to see the cards love dealt him after treating me like I was disposable.
Do you think you and Michael could ever make up?
No. That ship has sailed, and I’m not looking back.
Hey, if you’d like to share your own #SunkenShips story with Zikoko, fill out this form!
Jenny* (30) and Dele* (34) met in 2022 after a chance encounter on a rainy afternoon turned into something deeper. What began as a sweet connection soon spiralled into love, loss, and difficult choices that tested their bond.
In this story, they open up about falling in love, facing grief, and how an unplanned pregnancy split them up.
This is Jenny and Dele’s story as shared with Mofiyinfoluwa
Jenny: I met Dele in August 2022. I’d gone to the market for supplies when it started pouring. I didn’t have an umbrella, so I was walking in the rain, trying to flag down a bus. Then a car stopped in front of me, and he offered me a ride. Normally, I’d never get into a stranger’s car, but that day, I was desperate.
Dele: I was driving home from an errand in the area when I saw her— drenched and struggling with two heavy bags. I’m the type who helps if I can, so I stopped. I didn’t plan for anything beyond that.
Jenny: He insisted on dropping me off at home. We vibed easily during the ride. Dele told me he was a music producer who managed artists, and I mentioned my catering business. We exchanged numbers, and he said he’d reach out for gigs, which I thought was nice.
He even walked me to my gate with his umbrella. It felt really gentlemanly. For days, I waited for his text, but it never came.
Dele: She was a fine babe who crossed my mind a few times, but I didn’t want her to think I only helped because I wanted something. Then one day, she texted, joking that I’d forgotten her. That was how we started talking again.
Jenny: By then, it had been almost two weeks since we met. We started talking again, and soon, we were meeting up often. I’ll give it to him; he was sweet and romantic. I wasn’t even the calling type before, but he made me one. After two months of talking daily, he asked me out in October.
It was cute in the beginning.
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Dele: Those early days were beautiful. We didn’t even sleep together for almost two months. We just went on dates and got to know each other. It reminded me what real love should feel like.
Jenny: But when we eventually got together physically, things changed. I’m more adventurous than he is sexually, and it created a disconnect. It made me question if we were compatible.
Dele: Jenny expected me to be experimental because I’m a creative, but I’m a simple guy. I didn’t want to pretend to be someone else just to please her.
Jenny: I never asked him to change. I just wanted him to be more open. I tried introducing sex toys and role play, but he didn’t like it. He thought it meant he wasn’t good enough, which wasn’t true. I explained that trying new things didn’t make him less of a man, but he made it awkward.
The first few months were hard, but we eventually found a rhythm.
Dele: Ironically, that was when everything else started to fall apart.
I lost my mum in June 2023. It was sudden. She was diagnosed with cancer and died in less than three months. Losing her changed me. I started drinking and pushing everyone away, including Jenny.
Jenny: I understood his grief. Still, it was tough to handle. I thought it was a phase, but it only got worse. He’d promise to stop drinking, but I’d show up and find him drunk or passed out. I was putting in all the effort to hold us together.
Then, in November 2023, I found out I was pregnant.
Dele: The pregnancy came as a shock, but I also saw it as a good sign.
My mum’s death had left me questioning life, so I saw the baby as a new beginning and a gift from her. I proposed on Christmas Eve, and she said yes.
Jenny: I accepted, but deep down, I wasn’t sure. He was still drinking, and I couldn’t ignore our differences. I worked two jobs while he mostly lived off his dad’s money. I loved him, but I didn’t trust that he could handle fatherhood. When I voiced my fears, he got defensive and said I didn’t love him enough.
Dele: By then, I was trying to get my life together. I’d started working again and cut down on drinking, but she kept pulling away. I felt she wasn’t seeing how hard I was trying.
Still, I suggested we go ahead with a small family introduction that eventually happened in mid-January.
Jenny: That day broke me. It was a small event, but as the first child, it meant a lot to my parents.
Dele arrived late, came without his father, and was clearly drunk. We still went through with it, but in that moment, I knew I had to step back. His behaviour, on such an important day, showed me he wasn’t ready to take responsibility.
Dele: I drank that day because I was nervous, not because I didn’t care. She was also upset that my dad didn’t attend, even though I explained he was away on a trip. I came with my uncles, but I guess it wasn’t enough.
Jenny: His father never treated me or my family with respect. It was clear he didn’t see us as equals. And to miss his only child’s introduction? It made me question if I wanted to marry into their family.
By the first week of February, I decided to have an abortion. I didn’t tell Dele because I already knew how he’d react.
Dele: At first, she told me she’d miscarried, and I believed. Finding out the truth was one of the most painful moments of my life. That baby meant everything to me after losing my mum. I knew it was her body and choice, but I still felt I deserved to be part of the decision.
We should’ve talked about it.
Jenny: I admit I should’ve been honest, but I also knew how emotionally attached he was.
However, while I was still nursing my pain, I found out he had told my parents. I hadn’t even told them I was pregnant, let alone that I’d had an abortion. My mum cried for days. My dad was angry and disappointed. It was humiliating and painful, especially coming from someone who knew how much guilt I was already battling.
Dele: I didn’t tell her parents to get revenge. I was overwhelmed, confused, and emotional. I just wanted them to help her understand how deeply she’d hurt me. Looking back, I know I shouldn’t have done that.
Jenny: Even if that wasn’t his intent, it still felt vindictive. I’d already explained that I had the abortion, not because I wanted to end things, but because I needed time to figure out if this was really what I wanted. But he threw me under the bus.
Our relationship grew tense for months. We were still technically engaged, but my heart had checked out. He couldn’t move past the abortion. Every argument circled back to it, and he’d tie it to his mum’s death as though it was a punishment for my actions.
Dele: I really tried to make things right after that. By then, I’d gotten my life together, but it felt like she had already given up. Then I noticed she started talking to other guys, and that hurt me even more.
Jenny: By the end of 2024, I just wanted peace. I tried to make new friends, but he kept accusing me of flirting with other men. It was exhausting, so I called off the engagement in December.
Dele: The breakup shattered me. I couldn’t understand why she was walking away after everything we’d been through. What made it worse was finding out she’d gone on a date barely two weeks later. I’m not saying she cheated, but it felt like a betrayal.
Jenny: Even after we broke up, he tried to guilt-trip me. He told my family I’d left him for another man, which wasn’t true. That date was just me trying to move on, but he made it seem like I was a cheat. It felt like emotional blackmail, and that was the last straw.
Dele: I didn’t know how else to reach her. I thought her family could help us fix things. Around the new year, she called, cursed me out, and told me to stay away from her and her family. It hurt, but I respected her wishes and focused on moving forward.
Then, in July, she reached out to wish me a happy birthday, and that opened the door again. We addressed the past and apologised. Since then, we’ve stayed in touch. I still love her, but I’m not sure what the future holds.
Jenny: Wishing him a happy birthday was really just to make peace. I felt guilty about how things ended, and part of me still cared for him.
He didn’t mention it, but since we reconnected, we’ve hooked up a few times. I know it’s not healthy, especially since I’m seeing someone else. We’ve tried to define what we are, but we’re still figuring it out.
If we ever get back together, it will have to be different. We both need to heal completely before we can be anything more to each other again.
When Majekodunmi* (45) first imagined marriage, he thought it would be simple: one man, one woman, one peaceful home. But after losing his first wife and unexpectedly falling in love with two women afterwards, he’s spent the last decade figuring out how to balance love, fairness, and faith.
In this week’s Marriage Diaries, he talks about what life is really like being married to two women, how patience has kept his home, and why he believes friendship matters more than love.
This is a look into his marriage diary.
Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.
Before marriage, I was certain I’d only ever love one woman
I’ve always been the kind of man who believes in loyalty. Even as a bachelor, I wasn’t the type to keep multiple girlfriends or jump from one woman to another. I liked to think of myself as a one-woman man, and that’s how I imagined marriage would be — one man, one wife, and a peaceful home.
My brothers were the opposite. They were often drawn to women and frequently found themselves in messy situations. I was always the one settling their drama or helping run errands when things went wrong. It was entertaining from the outside, but it also convinced me that I didn’t want that life.
I’ve always had a specific taste. I like slim, curvy women who are also intelligent. Looks attract me, but intelligence holds me. So before marriage, I knew the kind of person I wanted and what kind of marriage I envisioned. Nobody really influenced that thinking. It was just who I was.
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I met my first wife by accident, and she changed my life
I met Toriola in 2005 at the Sagamu motor park. I was heading to Lagos, and she was boarding a bus. I asked her to join me in a smaller car I’d found — fewer passengers, more comfortable — but she refused at first because she couldn’t afford the fare difference. That honesty impressed me. I offered to cover it, and she reluctantly agreed.
We talked all through the trip. She loved books just as much as I did, and we went back and forth about our favourite novels. I didn’t even realise I hadn’t asked for her number until she was about to get down. I quickly collected it before she disappeared.
Later, I helped her gain admission into my school for her National Diploma. We became friends for years. She’d even advise me about other girls I was dating. Sometimes, I teased her that I’d end up marrying her. She’d always laugh and tell me it wasn’t possible.
By June 2010, after years of friendship, we started dating. By December, we’d done our family introduction, and by June 2011, we were married.
Our marriage was short but filled with love. She was everything I had imagined a partner to be: gentle, thoughtful, and kind. But barely a year later, she fell ill. We went to hospitals, churches, and tried prayers. Nothing worked. She died in April 2013.
That period broke me. But one thing I’ve held on to since then is my relationship with her mother. I still send her a stipend every week to this day. I promised myself I’d look after her for as long as she’s alive, and I haven’t missed a week in over ten years. It’s the least I can do to honour the woman who gave me peace in my first marriage.
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I didn’t plan to marry two wives, but life had other ideas
After Toriola died, I threw myself into work. My life revolved around the office and nothing else. A few months later, I began to develop a close relationship with one of my colleagues, the woman who would later become my first wife. Around the same time, I met another woman at our satellite office, and we also got close.
That was the first time I’d ever found myself emotionally involved with two people. Normally, I’m very straightforward with relationships. If I’m dating someone, it means everyone else is out of the picture. But this time was different.
I told the second woman the truth, that I was seeing someone. But we still bonded deeply. She reminded me a lot of my late wife: her temperament, the way she spoke, and the gentleness with which she handled people. I was drawn to her, but also afraid because she made me feel things I wasn’t ready for again.
Eventually, I married the first woman. The second woman moved on, got married, and had a child. But life brought her back into my orbit. Her marriage became toxic; the man was abusive and jobless. She told me he’d hit her, and when I saw the marks, I realised she might not survive it.
At first, I encouraged her to stay. It wasn’t out of wisdom; it was fear. I didn’t want people to think she left her husband because of me. But when I saw what she was going through, I couldn’t keep giving that kind of advice. She left the marriage.
We didn’t speak throughout her divorce because I wanted her to handle it without my influence. But after she was done, we reconnected again in 2019. I prayed about it and even sought spiritual counsel. Every sign pointed in the same direction; she was meant to be part of my life.
By the time I accepted that, I already had one wife. But I also knew that refusing this second marriage would haunt me.
The early years of polygamy almost drove me mad
When I told my first wife I wanted to marry again, she was furious. Her family, too. They said if I must marry another woman, it shouldn’t be that one. They knew her from my past and didn’t trust my intentions.
But I was convinced this was where God was leading me. She got pregnant months after that decision, and I stood firm. Still, I tried to make things easier for my first wife. I apologised often, reassured her constantly, and made sure she never felt replaced.
Those early years were rough. I had to learn how to be fair without overcompensating. I gave both of them what they needed, but made sure my first wife knew her position was safe. That helped calm things.
There were moments when it felt like I’d lost control, like when both women were upset and I didn’t know who to appease first. There were nights when I couldn’t sleep from overthinking. But I realised patience was my biggest weapon. Sometimes silence saved me more than any long explanation could.
People outside didn’t see the chaos. They only saw a man managing his home. But inside, it was a daily balancing act between ego, emotions, and responsibility.
Patience and fairness are the only reasons my home works today
The hardest thing about polygamy is learning to be fair, even when emotions are involved. You can’t show favourites, and you can’t pretend that love feels exactly the same on both sides. You just have to be wise enough to make everyone feel secure.
There was a time my first wife told me she would rather die than have anything to do with the second. It scared me. I didn’t tell anyone. I just prayed about it and looked for a way to make changes gradually.
I started with the children. I ensured they attended the same school, visited both houses, and became comfortable with each other. It took time, but that created a bridge between the two homes.
Gradually, the tension softened. One day, my first wife helped the second find a shop to rent. Later, when she needed her own shop, it was the second wife who helped her secure it. That’s when I knew things were finally changing.
Now, they talk often. They travel together sometimes. They even consult each other on things that concern me. I don’t interfere too much; I’ve learnt that peace has its own rhythm. I just try to be fair and not rock the boat.
Marriage has made me a different man entirely
If you had told me ten years ago that I’d be married to two women peacefully, I’d have laughed. But life humbles you. Marriage has changed me in ways I didn’t expect. It’s made me more patient, more calculating, and more prayerful.
The truth is, if I hadn’t married these two women, I might have ended up with multiple girlfriends or children scattered around. Having them both grounded me. It forced me to live responsibly.
I’ve lost some parts of myself, though. I’m a quiet, private man, and privacy is almost impossible when you have two wives and a house full of children. Sometimes I crave silence. But when I think of the family I’ve built, I know it’s worth it.
I’ve also learnt that friendship keeps a marriage running longer than love. Love fades. Friendship stays. I’m lucky because both of my wives are also my friends. We talk, joke, argue, and we move on.
If I could advise my younger self, I’d say: marry your friend, and marry when you’re ready. Don’t rush. Don’t copy anyone. Marriage will test everything you think you know about yourself, but if you’re patient and fair, you’ll be fine.
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Even love needs wisdom
Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I got here from that day in Sagamu park to managing two wives and a house full of children. It’s not how I planned it, but it’s where life took me.
Marriage has taught me that love alone doesn’t sustain a home. You need wisdom, understanding, and endurance. Those are the real foundations.
Both my wives think alike. They even fall sick at the same time. It’s almost like they share the same spirit. And maybe that’s God’s way of reminding me that the same love that broke me also rebuilt me.
If I could summarise my story in one sentence, it would be this: marriage is not about perfection; it’s about patience.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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In Nigeria, everyone has a story about love. The crush that made school days sweeter, the heartbreak that left you rethinking everything, or the random spark that changed your life when you least expected it. Love here isn’t one-size-fits-all; it’s shaped by family, faith, distance, and sometimes, sheer luck.
“Love here often feels like a group project you didn’t sign up for,” says Tade, 34, and that frustration runs through so many of the stories we heard.
For this story, we spoke to 100 Nigerians about their attempts at finding love — the wins, the failures, and the lessons in between. Together, their experiences paint a messy, hilarious, and sometimes heartbreaking picture of what it really means to search for love in Nigeria.
First loves & first crushes
Nothing feels as big as your first love. The butterflies, the secret smiles across a classroom, the thrill of sneaking in a text or holding hands when no one is looking. It’s messy and innocent at the same time, and even when it ends, you never forget how it made you feel. These Nigerians share the memories of their first attempts at love, the ones that taught them how sweet and sometimes fleeting it can be.
“I was begging for the bare minimum” — Chioma, 21 | Female | Straight | Anambra
I met Jude* while trying to hustle back in school. I went to advertise my goods at the boys’ lodge. I was scared, but hunger doesn’t care if you’re scared. He was one of the people I tried to sell to, and he took my number, promising to patronise me later. That’s how we started talking.
At first, he was cool. We talked all the time and shared sweet moments. But things changed after he left for NYSC. The calls stopped coming, our conversations became bland, and whenever I complained, he would brush it off with, “I’m trying my best.” But he wasn’t even doing the bare minimum. On top of that, he was very authoritative, always demanding I apologise even when I wasn’t at fault.
I felt miserable, constantly pleading for attention and affection. I checked out long before we officially ended things; I was just waiting for him to say the words.
That relationship taught me to never do long distance again, especially with controlling men. These days, it feels like most guys I meet only want sex, and no one is ready to put in effort. Still, I believe love will find me eventually.
“I won a match for her” — Ebuka, 21 | Male | Straight| Kwara
I used to play Tennis tournaments across states. During one match in 2016, I noticed a girl cheering loudly just for me. I won, partly carried by her voice. Later that evening, we spoke, and her energy drew me in like a magnet.
We became close friends until one day she confessed her feelings to me. I liked her too, and it became official. We stayed together for about five years, even after she moved abroad in 2020. Distance made things more complicated, and by 2022, we broke up.
She was my first real love. Her communicative and selfless nature set a standard for me. I know I can love again because she truly loved me.
“I met him where my parents met” — Tolu, 25| Female| Straight| Lagos
My parents met in a campus fellowship, so when I got into the same university in 2019, I went to check it out. I expected a big, beautiful auditorium from the way they spoke, but it was just a tiny hall. I started attending out of habit, and that was where I first met him. He was the academic coordinator, and we exchanged numbers when I showed interest in a tutorial group.
Months later, during the COVID-19 pandemic, I reached out for study tips. We began chatting frequently; he guided me, shared opportunities, and even helped me optimise my LinkedIn. Our relationship slowly shifted from mentor and mentee to friends. People teased us, but I never saw him as anything beyond a friend until 2022. I realised I had a crush on him when I started getting jealous of his female friends. He noticed. When he asked if I liked him, I admitted it, and we started dating. It’s been three years in a beautiful relationship.
“We fell in love over a packet of shortbread biscuits” — Toyin*, 25 | Female | Straight | Ogun
My first real taste of love came in SS2. The butty-looking guy sat beside me in class, and one afternoon, he slid a packet of Cabin biscuits across the desk. I laughed and asked why, and he just shrugged: “You looked hungry.” That was the beginning.
From then on, we became inseparable. We exchanged notes, shared our meals, and sometimes stayed back in school after closing hours to play. At 16, I truly believed we’d get married.
Of course, we didn’t. His family moved to Canada, and that was that. We lost touch, and life went on. But looking back now, I see how pure it was. The way he was so generous with everything he had, the way he carried my bag when it was heavy, or how my whole day could brighten from a single text.
These days, the bar is on the floor. Men aren’t even willing to do the bare minimum. I’m currently single, and I plan to stay that way until I find something genuine.
“He’s been consistent in the little things” — Amina, 26 | Female | Straight | Kaduna
I met him in 2023 at my cousin’s wedding. We were seated together, and when the zip of my dress tore, he quickly helped me cover up. His kindness drew me in, so I asked for his number. We kept chatting, and soon, feelings grew.
He worked in Belgium and was only in Nigeria for the holidays, so I assumed nothing serious would happen. But even after he returned, he never missed our nightly video calls. For an entire year, his consistency and thoughtfulness made me feel cherished in ways I had never experienced before.
As a Muslim woman who had never really been in a relationship, I was sceptical of his intentions. But earlier this year, he proposed, and now we’re planning our wedding for December. Looking back, I’m grateful it turned out to be the best decision of my life.
“My first girlfriend left me because of church” — Deolu*, 28 | Male | Straight
When I was sixteen, I had a huge crush on Bola*, the best singer in our church’s choir. We got close, bonding over the wahala of final year in secondary school. After we graduated, I asked her out and we started dating.
The news must have reached the grown-ups because two months later, the youth pastor gave a passionate sermon warning against “relationships that don’t lead to marriage.” That same week Bola broke up with me and threw herself deeper into church work.
It pained me like mad. I couldn’t talk to her for months after. She was my first love. I eventually got over it, but I still wonder what could’ve been if we had stayed together. When I left for university, I stopped attending that church, and we lost touch. My mind still drifts to her now and then, hoping she’s doing well wherever she is.
“We read at the same spot for a year” — Hameed, 25 | Male | Straight | Ibadan
In 2018, during my second year of university, I noticed her in the library. She always sat in front of me, and for almost a year, we kept ending up in the same spot. I didn’t think much of it until one night, by coincidence, we left at the same time. That was when I saw her face properly, and she was stunning.
I developed a quiet crush, but weeks passed before I saw her again. The next time was at a food spot with my friend, who pushed me to talk to her. I had never approached a girl before, but I gathered the courage, introduced myself, and to my surprise, she gave me her number. We started talking every day, and soon after, I confessed my feelings. She admitted she liked me too.
By Valentine’s, we were already exchanging gifts. She was my first real relationship, and for a while, everything felt sweet. But as time went on, her mood swings became unpredictable and overwhelming. After two years together, we knew it wouldn’t work.
“I snuck out at night to see him” — Amaka, 24| Female | Straight| Oyo
The first boy I really liked was back in 2015, when I was in secondary school. My dad worked as a chaplain at a boarding school. I didn’t attend the school myself, but lived on the premises. He was in SS3, and I was just starting senior secondary.
He noticed me one holiday when he stayed back for extension classes. We started chatting and hanging out. Sometimes I’d sneak out at night, pretending to fetch water, just so we could talk and hold hands.
It ended quickly, though. Tobi graduated, lost his phone, and we stopped talking. Years later, in 2018, he showed up at my dad’s funeral and tried to rekindle things, but by then, I’d already outgrown whatever brief history we shared.
“We were convinced our feelings were sinful” — Frank, 24 | Male | Queer | Lagos
I met him in 2011 when I first entered boarding school. He was my bunkmate — kind, protective, always saving me food or helping with my notes. That closeness slowly made me realise I was attracted to him, even though I didn’t fully understand my sexuality at the time.
It took me three years to finally confess in JSS3. To my surprise, he admitted he felt the same way.
But we were in a missionary school, and the guilt was heavy. We were convinced a relationship between us would be sinful, and the consequences if we were ever caught would’ve been serious. Many people already suspected we were more than friends, but they never had proof.
Still, we grew comfortable enough to be together quietly until he left after SS1.
I’ve had other relationships since then, some good, some bad, but nothing has compared to how pure that first love was. Sometimes I wonder if I would’ve embraced my sexuality as early as I did without him.
“I dated a boy to move past her” — Yusra, 30 | Female | Bisexual | Lagos
I met her in secondary school. She was the popular girl everyone admired, and I did too. We were both athletic and ended up in the same house, which brought us closer together as friends. In 2014, I realised my feelings for her had grown into something more.
At the time, it felt wrong to want her, so I suppressed it. I gave small signs, but she never acknowledged them. To this day, I don’t know if she ever noticed. The lack of reciprocation hurt, so when a boy who liked me continued to show interest, I let him in.
The feelings I had for her were stronger than anything I ever felt for him, but he was a boy, and that was what was acceptable. After graduation, we drifted apart, and I stayed with the boy for a while. Still, she remains the first person I really liked.
“My world ended when she died” — Davis, 30 | Male | Straight | Ibadan
I met her in 2012 during remedial classes. We met in school and dated throughout university. She was my first everything — the girl I moved in with, the one I built dreams around, and the woman I eventually proposed to in 2021.
Not long after, tragedy struck. She passed away in an accident, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. For months, I felt like my world had ended. Even now, there are days when I still imagine what life would’ve been like if she were here.
She taught me what it meant to love fully and openly. Though she’s no longer with me, she remains the standard my heart remembers whenever I think of love.
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“I developed a crush on my female math teacher” — Dolly, 23 | Female | Bisexual | Lagos
When I was about nine, I developed a crush on my female math teacher. At the time, I didn’t even realise it was a crush. I just loved being around her. The staff room became my second home because of her. I shared my snacks with her, checked in to make sure she was alright, and even convinced my parents to hire her as my home lesson teacher so I could see her more often.
That innocence shifted when I was eleven, sitting in a moral instruction class. The teacher described same-sex attraction as a bad thing, and suddenly, my feelings felt wrong. I felt ashamed and started to distance myself from her. Eventually, I left the school and never saw her again.
“He was everything I’d written on my list” — Maryam, 22 | Female | Straight | Abuja
In 2021, just before Ramadan, I prayed for many things, including my dream partner. Inspired by visualisation videos, I even wrote down the qualities I wanted. On Eid, a day I usually dreaded, I felt an unusual happiness and sense of expectation. That was the day I met him.
A friend introduced us casually at the mosque. We only exchanged a wave, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Later, I told my friend I was crushing on him. It was the first time I’d ever felt that strongly about someone. Somehow, he found out, and a few hours later, he texted me.
By November, he admitted he liked me and wanted a relationship that would lead to marriage. As we got closer, I realised he embodied every quality I’d written down. It felt surreal, like God had fulfilled my exact request. We got married earlier this year.
“He was my first crush in secondary school” — Derinsola, 28 | Female | Straight | Ogun
I was 15 when I first noticed Seyi*. He wasn’t the most handsome boy in school, but he was tall, always smiling, and kind in a way that stood out. I’d write his name in the margins of my notebooks and blush whenever he borrowed my pen. Sometimes, I’d hang around in school just to see him play.
We never dated. I doubt he even knew how hard my heart beat for him. But those years of daydreaming gave me something sweet to hold on to, especially because my teenage life wasn’t easy.
At university, I ran into him again. He didn’t remember me, but I remembered everything. He was still warm and funny, but this time, I told myself to let the fantasy go. First crushes are beautiful because they’re pure, not because they’re meant to last.
Now, at 28, I smile when I think of him. He was the beginning of my understanding that I could feel something so powerful. He’s dating now, but I sometimes wonder if there’s a future where we give love a chance.
“My first love left me for the UK” — Eleruwa, 29 | Male | Straight | Ilorin
My first love was in 2019, during NYSC. She was in the same platoon. We bonded over how terrible we were at marching drills and laughed through everything. I thought it would end after camp, but it didn’t. We travelled every weekend just to see each other.
We were broke, but that didn’t matter. Our dates were roadside suya, free concerts, or long walks. She was the first person I told, “I love you.” And she said it back. For a while, that was enough.
Eventually, life pulled us apart. She left for the UK, and I stayed here. Calls grew fewer, visits stopped. It hurt, but I never regretted it.
Even now, years later, no relationship feels quite as innocent and pure as what we had.
“We met in secondary school. Now she’s my fiancée” — Harrison*, 30 | Male | Straight | Lagos
I met Amaka in SS1. She was new in school, and the teacher asked me to show her around. I didn’t think much of it, but after a week of walking her to class and sharing my notes, I realised I liked her. She was smart, funny, and always beat me at debates.
By SS2, we were inseparable. We never officially called it dating; we just knew we liked each other. We exchanged gifts during Valentine’s Day, sneaked phone calls late at night, and wrote letters we hid inside textbooks. When WAEC ended, she told me she was moving to Enugu for university. I cried more than I expected.
We stayed in touch through social media, and eventually, we found our way back. By 2016, we were officially dating. We’ve been through a lot together: distance, career changes, and the loss of our parents. But the bond we built as teenagers made us stronger.
Now, at 30, she’s my fiancée. Every time I think about it, I feel grateful that my first love also turned out to be my last.
“My first crush became my boyfriend, and we’ve been together five years” — Nofisat*, 28 | Female | Straight | Ibadan
I was 16 when I first noticed Sodiq in our neighbourhood. He was a family friend, always coming around to play football with my cousins. I liked him quietly for years, but I never said anything because I thought he only saw me as “the younger cousin’s friend.”
We grew closer when I got into university. He would check in on me, help with assignments, and sometimes buy me food when I was broke. It felt natural, but I didn’t realise he liked me too. One evening during my second year, he walked me to the hostel and said, “You know you’re my favourite person, right?” I laughed it off, but he was serious.
We started dating not long after, and now we’ve been together five years. It hasn’t always been easy. There were fights about distance during NYSC, and when he lost his job for a while. But we worked through it.
What started as a crush has grown into a real partnership. Sometimes I still remember the girl who used to blush at him in the compound, and I smile.
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Relationships that almost happened
Some connections spark but never catch fire. Maybe the timing was off, perhaps the feelings weren’t mutual, or maybe life simply got in the way of what could have been a fairytale love story. Almost-relationships can hurt even harder than breakups because they leave you wondering what might have been. These accounts sit in that delicate space between “we could’ve been everything” and “we never even started.”
“My chances at finding love aren’t high” — Innocent, 24 | Male | Straight | Abuja
“I’ve tried to find love by shooting my shot with people I’ve known for a while or met along the way. Some went well at first, but never really lasted.
There was one girl I connected with deeply during a talking stage. I thought she was the one, but then she ghosted. That really hurt because I’d already started imagining a future with her. Later, in NYSC camp, I met another girl who was my type to a tee. At first, I thought she was my missing rib, but religion got in the way. I’m not religious, and she couldn’t stop bringing it up, so it became exhausting.
The girl I’m seeing now is also someone I met in camp. It’s still early, so I don’t want to conclude too quickly, but I’m hopeful. I’ve learnt not to build castles in the air too soon. I used to do that a lot — fall into my feelings fast, assume there’s already a future — but now I’m learning to be patient and take things as they come.
Honestly, I don’t think my chances of finding love are high. I’m a very logical man, and everything has to make sense to me. That mindset even causes issues in my current relationship. Still, I believe things will work out eventually. My life always does.”
“I thought I’d found love, but I packed my slippers and ran” — Iretiola*, 54 | Female | Straight | Port Harcourt
I’d been feeling neglected in my marriage when a man slid into my Facebook DMs. He lived in Kano, and I was in Port Harcourt, so I thought the distance meant nothing serious could happen. Still, he persisted with the sweet talk, calling me “my wife,” “my love,” and “sweetheart.” Against my better judgment, I started giving him an audience.
At first, it felt harmless. We spoke twice daily, making video calls on his way to work and voice calls at night. However, the red flags began to pile up. The first was when he complained about running out of data, and I sent ₦5k. Then I found out he had a wife at home. He was also a junior worker, which wasn’t a deal breaker on its own, but it didn’t sit right. The final straw was when he asked me to visit, saying I’d need to cover the flight and hotel because he couldn’t afford it.
One day, his sweet words started messing with my head like I was a teenager again. That was when I told myself the truth: this wasn’t love. I packed my two left slippers and ran. What I thought would ease the pain of neglect almost left me with more tears.
“He was a church guy who made rape jokes” — Fadekemi, 25 | Female | Straight | Ilorin
I think dating sites are the only place I haven’t tried finding love this year. I’ve watched too much “Dateline” and “Law & Order” to risk it. But also, 90% of my days are spent between church, work, and sometimes school, so naturally, my search for love has been centred around those places.
The most recent was a man I met at a church conference. I work in the protocol unit, and he’d just joined the department and was attached to my team. From the start, I couldn’t help but notice how fine and tall he was. For the record, I’m six feet, and he was taller than me. It felt like a match made in heaven.
We started talking after the conference, and within a month, things got serious — meeting-the-parents serious. But three months in, the red flags began. He made passive-aggressive remarks about my plans for academia, said we’d have to live with his mother after marriage, and even insisted I deactivate social media and change my number.
The final straw came when he started making rape jokes, despite knowing I was once a victim. One day, he even said, “I want to rape you to death.” That was it. I ended things immediately.
I’ve learnt that most people in church need both spiritual and mental help. Still, I want a God-fearing man. I love love, and I want to experience the kind my parents have.
“He refused to respect my boundaries” — Oyiza, 23 | Female | Straight | Kogi
I met him in December 2021 on my way back from the market. He’d been in the city to visit someone and offered me a ride. There was a ten-year age gap, and even though that worried me, we started talking every day.
Four months into our situation, we finally met when I had an event in Lagos. I thought it would just be a casual visit. I’d already told him I wasn’t ready for anything sexual. However, when I arrived at his place, things quickly became uncomfortable. He pushed against my boundaries, and I felt unsafe. I begged him to stop, and eventually, he did.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I had to ask a friend to fake an emergency, just so I’d have an excuse to leave. Later, when I confronted him, he accused me of being insensitive to his needs. That was my breaking point. I knew then we wouldn’t work and blocked his number.
“He was an Andrew Tate stan” — Yemisi*, 19 | Female | Straight | Abuja
After being single for a while, I decided to change that. I started replying to people who slid into my DMs because my friends had success stories, and I wanted mine too.
But it didn’t unfold the way I imagined. The boy I opened up to rushed everything. We’d only spoken for a short while before he brought up dating. Another red flag was that he’s a huge Andrew Tate fan, and I couldn’t see myself with someone like that. Our “talking stage” became awkward, so I blocked him. It felt like he was more interested in the idea of being with me than in me as a person.
I’ve learned I might not be cut out for relationships right now. It’s better to focus on myself and my future instead.
“He was related to my brother’s wife” — Edith, 68| Female| Straight | Abuja
I’ve never been married, and it’s because of my brother. Back in the 1980s, I got admitted into a course I didn’t like. After completing my degree, I returned to study medicine. With all the delays, I spent nearly 17 years in school. I only started considering settling down in my 40s.
In 2004, I met someone during a joint hospital training. He was kind, and I thought we could work. We dated for a few months, and I introduced him to my family. That was when my brother discovered the man was distantly related to his wife. It was far removed, but he insisted it was incest. He and his wife’s family pressured my partner until he ended things. It remains one of the saddest turns of my life.
We met last year through a campus fellowship. He’s a gentle, sweet and practical man. At first, it was just friendship, but as we talked more, my feelings grew. We’d spend hours on the phone laughing and having meaningful conversations. He also helped me with a lot of my academic and spiritual goals.
Eight months in, he suddenly withdrew. I noticed he chatted with me in fewer words and less enthusiasm. When I brought this to his notice, he said he wanted us to slow down; I was giving him too much attention for an undefined relationship. I was shocked. I thought we were working towards something solid. It didn’t take long before everything came to an end.
I kept asking myself what I did wrong. I’d been vulnerable with him like never before, and losing that was painful. I’ve chosen to move forward, even though I never got closure.
“I fell for a classmate, but we couldn’t date” — Sarah*, 23 | Female | Straight | Oyo
Two months before we graduated, I realised I had a massive crush on a classmate. I’d stay back after tutorials just to talk to him. After exams, I confessed, and he said he liked me too. We spent the little time left in school together, and it felt right.
But graduation scattered everything. Between NYSC wahala and job hunting, we slowly drifted apart. We tried to keep in touch, but life pulled us in different ways. I hate that we never got to explore what we had. I’ve tried meeting new people since then, but I haven’t felt that same click.
“She rejected me after three years” — Aliyu, 25 | Male | Straight | Abuja
I chased a girl for three years. We bonded over our family struggles and got into a situationship. I met her through her friend, who happened to be my ex, and that complicated everything. I couldn’t make things official because of the past. When I finally confessed my intentions this year, like I predicted, she insisted we couldn’t date because of that history. Her family issues also made her disinterested in commitment.
It hurt deeply because I spent so much time holding back, hoping she’d eventually say yes.
“I wish I’d met him before my husband” — Brenda, 34| Female | Straight| Abuja
When I got married in 2018, I regretted it instantly. My husband didn’t care for me and entertained other girlfriends. About eight months in, I got a job in another state, and that distance became my escape.
That’s where I met Kola. He was kind and attentive. Slowly, I developed feelings. He eventually confessed he liked me, and I was thrilled yet heartbroken. I had to admit that I was married. He was shocked; I never talked about my marriage or wore my ring.
After that, he set boundaries. Our friendship fizzled, and when I got transferred, the closeness disappeared. Eventually, he married someone else.
I still think about him. If I had waited longer before marrying, I believe I would have chosen Kola.
“After eight months, she vanished” — Felix, 45 | Male | Straight | Abuja
I got divorced in 2021 and fell into depression. For over a year, I drowned myself in alcohol and meaningless flings. Then, in 2022, I met a woman at a club. She stood out because she was modestly dressed, and when she offered me her shisha, we connected. That night, we ended up in bed. She told me she was married and only wanted fun.
We kept meeting at hotels with an unspoken rule not to ask personal questions. I liked that it came with no pressure, but with time, I caught feelings. I never admitted it because I knew it wouldn’t change anything.
After about eight months, she vanished. No calls. No explanation. I didn’t even know her last name. Two years later, I still think of her and wonder if things would have been different if I’d told her how I felt.
“I lost both the love and the friendship because I was too afraid to open up” — Oluwakemi, 25 | Straight | Female | ***
I thought I had found love after reconnecting with a former family friend who lives abroad. We started talking late 2024, but this year we took it further. We shared our pasts, our secrets, and our dreams. We even planned what we’d do when he visited Nigeria. For a while, it felt like two lonely people finding comfort in each other’s company.
He eventually confessed his feelings, and though I felt the same, I held back. I was too afraid of getting hurt, so I never fully opened up. I doubted him, questioned his feelings, and second-guessed whether I was the only one on his mind. I think he sensed my hesitation. Then one day, out of nowhere, he asked me to stop speaking to him.
I pleaded with him, but it didn’t change anything. When it ended, I felt empty. I still do sometimes, because his presence was such a bright spot in my life. I miss the teasing, the video calls, and the comfort of being accepted as I was.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is that love requires vulnerability. Holding back only cost me what might have been something beautiful. But I haven’t given up. I believe love is still possible for me. It may take time, but I’m learning to heal, trust again, and leave the past behind.
“Love was living right next door” — Bolanle*, 29 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I moved into my current apartment in 2023, and that’s where I met my neighbour. At first, we only spoke when we passed each other in the compound. We bonded after our transformer blew up in March, and we had to sit outside with other tenants to escape the heat.
We discovered a shared love for movies and started having weekly watch nights. By June, he confessed he had feelings for me, and I told him I felt the same. We aren’t official yet because I want us to take our time, but I already know what we have is more special than anything I’ve had in a while.
“There was always something holding us back” — David, 21 | Male | Straight | Lagos
I started the year determined to stay away from love. Last time I shot my shot at a girl in my department, she told me she would’ve blocked me. I took the hint and stayed away from love. Then I met Sarah.
It happened in the most random way. I was in a massive exam hall with a friend, charging my phone, when she walked up to me. She asked if she could use the socket, and before I knew it, we were talking like old friends. The vibe was so natural, I barely noticed when she slid closer to me. I collected her number but hesitated to message her. It was close to Valentine’s, and I didn’t want to be anyone’s placeholder. But curiosity won, and once I texted her, we couldn’t stop talking.
At first, it felt perfect. But cracks soon appeared. I entered 2025 with a lot on my plate — academics, finances, and life goals. I didn’t give her the attention she wanted, even though I genuinely liked her. She kept asking for more: more presence, more effort, more proof.
Still, she had this pull I couldn’t resist. Late-night conversations, inside jokes, moments where “my love” slipped out of her mouth so easily. One night, while cuddled up in a classroom, she mentioned Mohammed, her crush. That’s when I realised that no matter how close we got, something would always stop us from crossing that line.
“I tried dating a good friend, it was a disaster” — Obed*, 40 | Male| Straight| Lagos
I’ve never really been a big believer in love, so I stayed away from dating for the most part. But I’ve had a good friend I’ve secretly been attracted to for years. We’d been close for over a decade and never crossed that line.
Early this year, I started thinking seriously about settling down and starting a family. Who better to try with than someone I already knew and trusted? I thought dating her would be easier than my past situationships, but it turned out to be a disaster.
As friends, she gave me space, and I assumed it would be the same in a relationship. Instead, she wanted us to spend nearly all her free time together. I wasn’t used to that level of closeness, and the more we tried to talk through it, the more we fought.
By April, we ended things on a terrible note. What hurts most isn’t the failed relationship, but the loss of our friendship. It was something I really valued, and now it’s gone. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be trying for love again anytime soon.
“I got my heart broken for the first time” — Ugo*, 19 | Male | Queer | Oyo
I’m queer, and after three years of scoping the community, I finally decided to try dating. I had to keep it secret because it’s not exactly safe to be out of the closet.
At a house party in May, I met a handsome older guy, Timi* (22). He swept me off my feet. For two months, I practically lived at his place off campus. Those weeks felt brief but wonderful.
Then, in July, everything changed. He went cold. Each time I asked to visit, he gave flimsy excuses until we just fizzled out.
My friends keep telling me to charge it to the game and move on, but I’m still trying to forget him. I hope the rest of the year has a pleasant romantic surprise for me because I’m tired of being hung up on a guy who won’t match my energy.
Dating apps & online connections
Swipe left, swipe right, reply, ghost — swiping often feels like a small leap of faith, maybe this stranger behind a profile picture could be the LOYL. The late-night chats, the playful banter, even the awkward first dates all hold the promise of love at your fingertips. But sometimes, the fantasy crashes into reality: profiles don’t match the person, conversations go stale, or the connection simply fizzles out. These stories capture the thrill, the chaos, and the heartbreak of looking for love online.
“I no longer believe in building together” — Sarah, 23 | Female | Straight | Abuja
This year, I tried finding love on social media, but it hasn’t been easy. Dating apps feel more like hookup sites now, and as an introvert, I’m not bold enough to shoot my shot. The people I meet through mutual friends also don’t want what I want — a long-term relationship with someone serious about building a life together.
I met a few people online, but things never went far. Most lived in Lagos, a place I don’t see myself moving to anytime soon, or our conversations just fizzled out. One guy even asked me for a loan when we barely knew each other, and because I’ve been burned before, I’ve learnt to be careful.
Part of me enters every new connection thinking, ‘Oh, this could be my future husband,’ so I put so much thought into every word. That probably comes from my last relationship. He said he loved me, but broke things off because he didn’t believe relationships exist during hard times. He insisted I deserved more than he could give, and that was the end of it. It made me stop believing in “building together.” I want someone who has already done the work on themselves, just as I have.
Now, finding love just feels exhausting. I’ve decided to focus on my career instead. Every day that passes, I believe in love a little less. If love happens, good. If it doesn’t, I’ll still be fine.
“Dating apps were supposed to make it easier” — Judah, 22 | Non-binary | Asexual | Port-Harcourt
Dating apps were my go-to this year. Being a homebody and also in the closet, I thought it’d be easier to connect with other queer people online. I’d heard stories of people finding love on Grindr and Bumble, so I was hopeful.
Even signing up was stressful. I couldn’t log into my account after creating it and had to wait on customer support. By the time they fixed it, I’d forgotten I even made the account. Then, when I finally got on, I had to deal with horny men who only judged me based on my sexual availability. I explicitly wrote in my bio that I wasn’t looking for sex, and while that helped a little, the conversations still mostly circled back to whether I was a top or bottom, or where I lived.
It was exhausting. I felt like the heavens were against me; maybe romantic love just wasn’t in the cards for me. Eventually, I deleted my account because I couldn’t deal with how shallow it all felt. Nobody wanted to know me beyond sex.
So for now, no more dating apps. I want to meet people organically, even though that’s hard in Nigeria, where I can’t even be safely out. Still, I believe love is possible. But even if it doesn’t come, that’s fine too. Romance is only a subset of life.
“Crypto helped me meet my soulmate” — Ade, 27 | Male | Straight | Kwara
I didn’t find love by walking up to random women, though I tried. In January 2025, I met my girlfriend online while training her in crypto trading. After the classes ended in May, we stayed in touch through calls and conversations. Before long, we realised we couldn’t go a day without talking.
One defining moment for me was when I lost money. She lent me some cash, and when I tried to return it with interest, she refused. It meant a lot and made me confront my feelings for her.
I’m very traditional and intentional about relationships, so I knew I had to do things properly. We’ve scheduled a meeting with her family this September, and I’m looking forward to it. Love finds you in the most unexpected ways.
“He only wanted to hook up” — Amina, 30 | Female | Straight | **
In 2023, I decided to finally give dating apps a try, since I was actively looking for love. A friend had been raving about Bumble for months. Within the first 20 minutes of signing up, I had about 20 matches. I was chatting and replying to texts until I got overwhelmed.
Only one guy stood out. Unlike the others, our conversations didn’t feel forced. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t give out my number so quickly, but with him, I broke it.
At first, everything was amazing. We talked consistently for six weeks, and I thought it’d grow into a real relationship. Then he suddenly pulled back and told me he was not mentally ready for a relationship. Still, he kept disturbing my phone. I realised he only wanted to hook up, so I cut him off.
“He created multiple accounts to harass me after I ended things” — Bola, 21 | Female | Straight | Osun
I met him on Twitter in December 2024 after a friend reposted his pictures. I jokingly commented, “fine boy,” and he slid into my DMs. During our chats, I realised he was still in a relationship, so I pulled back. But after they broke up, we slipped into a physical situationship. I had a crush, but I was wary of someone fresh out of a breakup. Eventually, I ended things because we wanted different things.
That was when the harassment started. He blocked me and then posted indirect insults on Twitter. I blocked him, too, but soon after, I began receiving threatening messages from multiple private accounts. I traced one back to him when it accidentally retweeted my post. He denied it, but the messages stopped once I threatened police action.
Last month, I learned he’d been arrested for posting unconsented sex videos of women. It shook me, but it also made me grateful I trusted my instincts and walked away when I did.
“He lied about having a child” — Tomi, 27 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I met him on a dating app in February 2025. He was smart, funny, and easy to talk to. Our conversations flowed so well that we could jump from random topics to serious life plans without skipping a beat. I began to see him as a potential partner, and we even started planning a joint business together, despite never meeting in person.
One night in April, during a call, he said he had to go because he was reading a bedtime story. I assumed it was for a niece, but when I asked, he admitted it was for his daughter. At first, I thought he was joking. Later, he confirmed it. I was shocked because I had specifically asked if he had children, and he said no.
For me, the lie mattered more than the child. When I later found out the child’s mother was still in his life, I knew I couldn’t trust him. By June, I walked away.
“I found love on Bumble” — Esther, 28| Female| Straight | Lagos
I started using dating apps in 2019, and Bumble quickly became my favourite because it gave me control and felt safer than Tinder. For a long time, I only texted and never met anyone in person. That finally changed in 2025 when I decided to give two matches a chance.
One of them stood out immediately. From his very first message, I could tell he was intentional and genuinely interested. I waited for him to lose interest or ghost me like others had, but he stayed consistent. His effort and kindness gradually won me over, and we started dating.
Now it feels almost surreal to say I found love on Bumble. After years of thinking it might never happen, I am glad I trusted the process. I always believed it could work, and this time, it finally did.
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“I asked my friends to help me find a partner” — Temitope, 28| Male | Straight| Lagos
This year, I grew tired of searching for love on my own. I was so thirsty for it that I even told some of my friends I was (and still am) actively searching for a partner. I thought maybe they could connect me with someone, but nothing solid came from it.
I also tried dating apps, but those were a total waste of time. Ninety-nine per cent of the women I met there only wanted money. They’d tell me they liked me, then start begging for one thing or another barely two days later. It was exhausting.
In May, I finally summoned the courage to confess to a crush I’d liked for a while. But she told me she already had a boyfriend.
Honestly, my continued search for love has left me tired. The main lesson I’ve learnt is that Lagos men and women are crazy, and maybe they deserve each other.
Deep down, I know my person is out there. She may be hard to find because my standards are high, but that’s fine with me. I believe it’s not impossible. There’s still time for something great to happen.
“Her text after five days made me realise she wasn’t just another random” — Creed*, 30 | Male | Straight | Lagos
I first met someone on a Zikoko dating show that seemed promising, but it didn’t go anywhere. A few months later, I connected with another lady on social media. At first, things flowed. Then, suddenly, we stopped talking for about five days.
Out of the blue, she texted me. That single text caught my attention. It wasn’t just about the message itself but the fact that she noticed the silence and cared enough to bridge it. That was when I realised she might not be just another person to chat with and forget.
That one text was the start of us becoming an item. It felt good knowing she was intentional, not just passing time.
Through this journey, I’ve learned that love isn’t about being with someone for the sake of it. You need to be with someone you genuinely care about, someone you can truly say you’ve found love with.
“Dating apps are the worst” Damilola*, 25 | Male | Queer | Delta
I downloaded Grindr during lockdown, thinking it’d be a fun distraction. Within weeks, I matched with more men than I’d ever spoken to in real life. At first, it was exciting with all the late-night chats, flirty emojis, and even a virtual date where we cooked the same meal over video call.
But after a while, the excitement turned into confusion. Conversations fizzled, people ghosted, and one guy even asked me for a ₦50k “urgent need” before we’d ever met. By the third month, I was drained. I felt like I was swiping myself into madness.
It hurt my confidence for a bit. I kept asking myself if something was wrong with me. But honestly, it wasn’t me, it was the randomness of it all.
I’m not rushing these days. I’ll still try dating apps, but I’m also letting real life do its thing. Love might just walk up to me at the supermarket instead of through a screen.
“He love-bombed me into a relationship” — Mercy, Female | Straight | ***
I met him on Bumble, and from the very first day, we clicked. We talked for hours, and within a week, he declared his intentions. I worried about love bombing, but I liked him enough to give it a chance. Even though we lived in different cities, it never felt like distance because we spoke every day and often stayed on calls while working.
A few months in, he changed. His tone became formal, and the affection reduced whenever he didn’t get his way. Most of it centred on my postponing visits. He also began showing controlling tendencies, like insisting I pierce my ears even after I told him I had none.
The final straw was when he came to my city unannounced and demanded I meet him at a hotel. I felt disrespected, and when I voiced my concerns, he brushed them off. His last message was a thumbs-up.
“The men on dating apps are liars” — Uzo*, 32 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I’ve been trying to put myself out there by using dating apps, but I haven’t had the best experience so far.
I met a lovely man on Tinder this April, and he seemed perfect. He was funny, caring, and consistent, and I thought I’d found my last bus stop. Only two months in, I discovered he had a wife and a child. I almost couldn’t believe it.
I’ve deleted all the apps and taken a break from dating. That experience taught me to be wary of the people I give my trust to, especially in this Lagos.
“I met the love of my life at Moonshot 2024” — Desola*, 23 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I attended Moonshot to network in the tech space. On the first day, a guy walked up to me while I was talking to someone else and asked if I knew him. I responded with a curt “Am I supposed to know you?”
I didn’t mean it in a snobbish way, and thankfully, he wasn’t offended. He introduced himself and got my number, but he never texted. I couldn’t get him out of my mind, so I looked him up on IG and teasingly asked if I had to appear in his dreams before he texted me.
We moved the conversation to WhatsApp, and the rest, they say, is history. We’ve been together since, and it’s been beautiful. I’ve had to learn lots of patience, but when you’re in love, even the hard lessons feel light. I’m glad I gave us a chance.
“I think I’m a likeable person, not a loveable one” — Demi*, 32 | Male | Straight | Edo
Like most introverts, when I was looking for love, I turned to the apps. I met a lot of people, but they were just a series of disappointments. They either ghosted or friend-zoned me.
One in particular hurt because I thought she was my final bus stop. Now, we don’t even talk. It made me start to believe I’m likeable, not lovable, and that’s fine.
I’ve mostly given up on love because the back-to-back headaches after each connection end are too much. I can’t be dealing with heartbreak while trying to keep a clear head for work. If there’s someone out there for me, I don’t know if I’ll ever find them. Until I sort myself out, it’s best to stay on my own.
“I’ve tried hard to put myself out there because I believe in love” — Pamilerin*, 29 | Female | Osun
I’m not sure I’ve done the best job of it, but this year, I tried hard to put myself out there for love. I met people through friends and even tried dating apps. The journey hasn’t been smooth. I’ve met too many foolish people.
One man I liked turned out to be married with a family in the UK. Another person I connected with online claimed to be much taller than he was. When we met in person, he was almost a metre shorter than what he’d written in his bio.
At the start of the year, I felt hopeful. But all the confusion and disappointment dampened that hope. Don’t get me wrong, there were lovely moments with people I genuinely found interesting. But there were also stretches of loneliness and self-doubt, when I’d catch myself wondering if this love thing is really for me.
Still, all the mistakes of the year taught me something. I’m clearer about my boundaries now, and I’ve learned to run at the first sign of a red flag. I still believe love is possible for me. I see it everywhere around me, in friends and family. I can’t be the exception.
“We got reunited after seven years apart” — George, 31 | Male | Straight | Nigeria/Canada
We first dated in secondary school and stayed together until 2015, at the start of university. But back then, I wasn’t serious. I got involved with other people, and while she tried to make things work, I’d lost interest. It ended badly when I let a friend tell her I no longer wanted the relationship, which, I admit, was a cowardly way out.
Fast forward to 2022. We’d both moved to Canada and were living in the same city. After six years, we reconnected through our church community. At first, it was strictly friendship, but with time, I realised my feelings for her had never really gone away. When I saw her talking to someone else, it hit me hard. That was when I swallowed my pride and asked for another chance.
She was reluctant at first, but eventually gave in. By 2024, we were married. I’m grateful I didn’t let her slip away twice.
“I went back after he gave me an STI” — Anna, 25 | Female | Straight | Akure
He was my first real love. We met in 2020, and I fell hard. He was intentional, funny, and made me feel seen. But one day, he ended things, saying he needed to “focus on himself.”
Even after the breakup, I kept going back. We had sex often, and I convinced myself it meant we could get back together. Instead, it became a cycle of him using me while I clung to hope. At one point, he gave me an STI. That should’ve been my wake-up call, but I still stayed.
The final break came in 2022, after a night together. Out of nowhere, he snapped, said he was tired of me, and threw me out of his place. It was painful to accept, but that was the moment I finally let him go.
“I found the love of my life at church” — Remi, 27 | Female | Straight | Lagos/Germany
After I moved to the UK for my master’s in 2023, my dating life completely dried up. Between school and work, I barely had time to go out and meet new people.
By 2025, I decided to try dating apps, but all I found were people looking for hookups or casual relationships. I wanted something more substantial.
Then, one Sunday in June, a new member at church asked me out for lunch after service. I said yes, and to my surprise, he turned out to be great company. He made his intentions clear from the start, and even though I hadn’t dated in a while, I agreed to give it a try.
We started dating properly in July, and honestly, something tells me this man is my last bus stop. He’s wonderful, kind, and everything I’ve been looking for. I finally feel hopeful about love again, and I think this journey will be a beautiful one.
“I found my way back to him after a bad marriage” — Zainab, 27 | Female | Straight | Lagos
He was my childhood crush and closest friend. We dated on and off in university but ended the relationship for good in 2021. I thought I had moved on when I married someone else in 2022, but that marriage quickly crumbled. His mother never accepted me, he belittled me constantly, and he openly cheated. By 2024, I filed for divorce.
After relocating to Lagos, I ran into my old love again. His family, especially his mother, welcomed me back with open arms, reminding me of the love and support I had once known. Slowly, I realised what I had missed all along. It wasn’t only him, but also the feeling of belonging to a family that genuinely wanted me.
Five months ago, we got married. This time feels different. We communicate better, respect each other, and I finally feel at peace.
“I met a scammer online” — Susanna*, 29 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I wasn’t really looking for love this year, but in February, I decided to give dating apps a try. That’s how I met Caesar*. We hit it off quickly and soon started meeting offline. He moved fast, calling me his woman and even talking about a baecation. I wanted us to build a friendship first, and he agreed.
My birthday was coming up in May, and when I mentioned it, Caesar planned a lavish dinner date at a fancy restaurant. The night felt magical. We had great food, amazing wine, and all the right vibes. But when it was time to pay, Caesar said he would retrieve his ATM card from the car. That was the last I saw or heard from him.
I sat there for more than an hour, waiting and feeling foolish, before I finally paid the bill myself and went home. It’s not something I’ve gotten over. Since then, I’ve been very wary of anyone trying to move to me. I just hope I can bounce back to my loving self soon.
“I saw shege on the dating apps” — Derayo*, 29 | Female | Bisexual | Lagos
I wanted to try something different when it came to love this year, so in February 2025, I downloaded Bumble and Tinder. I spent a lot of time creating my profile and writing a bio because in my head, it was poorly set-up profiles that attracted creeps. But I was so wrong. Almost every connection I made on those apps was either a fake profile or a fraudster.
I even had a conversation that moved past the first day, but soon after, the guy started asking me to speak to a “client” of his because my English was better than his. Classic fraudster stuff. I blocked him immediately.
Now, I’ve given up on dating apps. I need to see you in real life before I can take anything we’re doing seriously. I’m trying to attend more events so I can meet new people. That’s my primary goal moving forward.
“I found love at work” — Ese, 25 | Female | Straight | Lagos
It surprised me that I’d fall in love with my coworker, but I did. I moved apartments earlier this year, and he started dropping me off a few bus stops from my house after work.
On those long rides back to the mainland, we’d talk about our shared interests, favourite music and more. Soon, the rides weren’t enough. We started texting frequently on WhatsApp and having our lunch breaks together. Other colleagues even started calling us “husband and wife” because we were always together.
He asked me to be his girlfriend in July, and I said yes. Thankfully, our office allows staff to date as long as HR knows. It’s been a dream seeing my favourite person every day. He makes work exciting, and I love how intelligent he is. I’m learning new things about him all the time, and I’m excited for what the future holds.
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Long distance & family pressure
There’s nothing easy about loving someone from afar. Sometimes, it’s endless hours on the road just to steal a weekend together or long hours spent on mobile devices lacking the needed warmth. Add arguments sparked by family who think you can do better, and even the strongest love begins to feel fragile. Still, some people choose to fight for it, even when the odds are stacked against them.
“I was pressured into ending my relationship” — Fatima, 54 | Female | Straight | Kaduna
“When I got into university in 1992, I joined the Muslim Students Society. A year later, I started dating my coursemate after we worked on a project together. He was kind, thoughtful, and flawless in my eyes. The only difference between us was his Christianity. I didn’t care, and neither did he. We agreed to make it work.
When people in the Muslim society found out, everything collapsed. I was excommunicated, my closest friend stopped speaking to me, and hostel mates mocked me, calling me an infidel. It crushed my mental health and my academics. I wanted to stay with him, but when the pressure became too much to bear, I broke the relationship off.
By 1995, they matched me with a Muslim brother in the society, whom I married. Even now, I still think about my ex. If not for that pressure, he’s the one I would’ve chosen.”
“My father accused me of stealing my sister’s children” — Bisi, 62 | Female| Straight | Lagos
“I’m a twin, and got married while my sister never did. My father always worried about that, especially since she was the firstborn. She was ambitious, focused on her studies and determined to become a surgeon. I was more family-oriented, so when I met my husband, I wanted to settle down quickly.
My father disliked him from the start — this was the early 1990s, and my husband was a lecturer. Lecturers were often owed salaries back then, and my father thought he wouldn’t be able to provide. He reluctantly gave his blessing but continued criticising him.
We struggled, and I sometimes asked my father for help. By my fourth pregnancy, he told me to stop having children and accused me of “robbing my twin” of hers. It was painful to hear. The lack of his support strained my marriage and left me always longing for his approval.
“I would’ve been his second wife if our families agreed” — Halima, 34| Female| Straight | Niger
I met him during an office event in 2021 while welcoming guests. He refused to let me leave until I gave him my number. At first, I didn’t take him seriously, but our conversations surprised me. He was mature and understanding in ways men my age weren’t. Our first date went better than I expected, and soon we started dating.
By 2022, he asked me to consider marriage. I knew from the beginning that he was at least 15 years older and already had a wife, but I genuinely liked him and didn’t mind being a second wife. My parents disapproved, and when his wife eventually found out, she made life unbearable. She threatened me and warned me off.
As much as I cared about him, I couldn’t imagine raising a family in a hostile environment. Ending things was painful, but it was the only way forward.
“Prayers revealed he isn’t my husband” — Mary, 23| Female | Straight | Kwara
“I met him in 2018 through a fellowship, and by 2019, we became close friends. What drew me in was the peace I felt around him. By 2022, he asked me out, but I told him to wait because I needed to tell my mum first. I’m from a deeply spiritual family where dating someone is taken seriously.
We kept talking until December 2024, when I finally got the courage to approach my mum. She said she would pray and seek God’s guidance. In March this year, she told me she hadn’t received him as my husband, and other family members agreed. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t ask him, a man in his thirties, to keep waiting for my family to approve. I had to let him go.”
“We met in December 2023, just after I joined a school club. I wasn’t looking to date, but spending time with him quickly became the best part of my week. We vibed to old reggae and Afropop songs, and shared countless simple moments that always left me full and happy. The night that sealed the deal for me was when we experienced a water scarcity on campus. He showed up carrying heavy bags of water so that I wouldn’t go thirsty. By 2024, we started dating.
Now, distance is our biggest challenge. In January 2025, I was posted to the North East for NYSC, while he was posted to the West. It hasn’t been easy, but despite the missed calls and stress of keeping up, we’re choosing to stay together.”
“I held out for two years, thinking he’d return” — Becky, 30 | Female | Straight | ***
“I met him at work on my very last day. Coincidentally, it was his first day. As the facility manager, I had to show him around. What should’ve been a quick tour turned into an endless conversation. He asked for my number, but nothing serious came of it until lockdown.
By then, he’d relocated to the UK, and suddenly, we were talking every day. We liked each other, but the timing was terrible. He was struggling with fees and adapting to life abroad, while I didn’t want a long-distance relationship.
I held out for two years, thinking he’d return after his studies. When his plans changed, I ended things. Beyond the distance, our personalities clashed. He was deeply religious and a people pleaser, while I’m extremely confrontational. We’re friends now, and he’s with someone else.”
“I asked my parents to introduce me to people. I was shocked at their suggestions” — Tomi*, 27 | Female| Straight| Abuja
I’ve been single since 2020. My last relationship didn’t survive the strain of long distance when school switched to virtual classes. Now that I’m older and ready for something serious, I decided to ask my parents to match me with someone they thought would be nice.
Their suggestions shocked me. First, they brought up a family friend’s son, but I know him too well; he’s a degenerate gambler. When I refused, they introduced me to one of the accountants who works for my dad. Apart from the fact that I’d never want my husband to work under my father, the guy was so boring I almost dozed off on our first (and only) date.
I’m trying not to stress about finding a partner since I’m still young, but one thing is clear: I can’t count on my parents to pick a man for me. Our tastes are too different.
“My parents want me to marry a man I barely know” — Zainab*, 24 | Female | Straight | Kaduna
My parents believe marriage brings stability to a woman’s life. Early this year, they tried to introduce me to a family friend’s son, a doctor.
He’s polite, but we have nothing in common. I love movies, but he thinks they’re boring unless it’s an action film. I love travelling, but he believes adults should stay close to home. He loves football, and I don’t care for it at all.
I told my parents I couldn’t continue, and they were disappointed. It’s been hard because I know they want what’s best for me, but I’d rather be single than miserable. With him, that’s exactly what I’d be.
Getting back with an ex
There’s a pull that never really goes away when it comes to someone you once loved. The late-night calls start again, familiar jokes resurface, and for a moment, you both feel like time hasn’t passed at all. But the truth is, second chances don’t always guarantee happy endings when it comes to matters of the heart.
“He compared me to his female bestie” — Isabel, 24 | Female | Straight |Lagos
I met my ex when he resumed as a direct-entry student in 2019. He always greeted me after class, so during his birthday, I congratulated him. During the COVID lockdown, we were talking every day on the phone. Then, after school resumed in 2021, we became official.
But five months into the relationship, he grew distant and kept picking fights. Out of the blue, he broke up with me over text. He said he was dealing with personal issues he couldn’t talk about.
We reconnected in 2024. We worked in the same unit in church, and my feelings came rushing back. We dated again for over a year, but the fights continued. This time, they were around his “female bestie”, whom he constantly compared to me. In the end, I realised I was stuck in a cycle. I ended things with him in January. This time, I know not to look back.”
“He couldn’t change his church for me” — Cynthia, 26 | Female | Straight| Abuja
My relationship ended because of religion, even though we were both Christians. It happened because of different doctrinal values and beliefs.
When we got together in 2023, everything else was perfect. Our families knew each other, we’d been friends for years, and working together made the bond even sweeter. I joined his church, but quickly realised it wasn’t a place I could thrive or build a family. When we spoke about it, he didn’t want to leave, so I walked away in April 2024.
A few weeks later, he promised to leave the church if I gave him time. Because the break-up was difficult, I agreed, and we got back together. Weeks turned into months, and it was obvious he would never act on it. In December 2024, I ended the relationship for good. It was a messy breakup, but I don’t regret my decision.
“I became the sidechick in his new relationship” — Zara, 26 | Female | Straight | Nassarawa
“I met Joel* when he bought jewellery from me in 2017. At first, I didn’t take him seriously, but he won me over with persistence and thoughtfulness. By 2018, we were a couple. For five years, we were inseparable. I spent most of my time at his place, met his family, and believed we’d get married.
In 2023, NYSC posted me to Osun, and distance strained us. By my birthday in November, he broke up with me. I was shattered. After six months apart, we reconnected in 2024. He was already with the girl his mum wanted for him. We slipped into an affair, and I got pregnant. I thought the pregnancy would seal our relationship, but he pressured me into an abortion when he revealed his plan to leave the country in a few months. That betrayal hurt me, but I was able to walk away.”
“We gave it a second chance, but it ended the same” — Jessy*, 35 | Male | Straight | Port Harcourt
My ex and I broke up in 2019 because I moved abroad. By 2022, I was back in Nigeria and convinced fate had given us a second chance. She agreed to try again.
The first few weeks felt magical. We were older, calmer, and I thought distance had matured us. But then, the old cracks reappeared. She still hated how close I was to my female cousins. I still struggled with her temper. We argued like before, only now it felt heavier.
It broke me to realise love alone couldn’t fix us. I wanted it so badly to work this time, but I also didn’t want to spend another three years fighting the same battles.
Sometimes, closure isn’t about getting back together. It’s about knowing you tried and accepting that some love stories just aren’t meant to be.
“Getting back with him was my biggest mistake” — Hadiza*, 27 | Female | Straight | Ilorin
After a breakup in 2023, I swore I would never return to my ex. But when I saw him at a wedding last year, all the old feelings came rushing back. I convinced myself he had changed. We started talking again, and for a month, it was like old times. I felt hopeful that we could make it work this time.
It didn’t even take long for the old patterns to resurface. He started ignoring my calls again, borrowing money he never returned, and cancelling dates out of the blue. One day, I found myself crying again over the same issues that broke us up the first time. That was when it hit me that I hadn’t given love another chance; I’d just willingly submitted myself to torture again.
I felt like a fool, but that realisation also woke me up. I don’t miss him anymore. And I mean it when I say that ship has sailed forever. I haven’t given up on love yet. I just know I won’t be going backwards again.
“I tried spinning the block this year, I don’t recommend it” — Layomi, 30 | Male | Straight | Osun
I wasn’t having a good run in the romantic streets. It felt like everyone I met was racing to betray me as fast as possible. I got fed up and tried to rekindle things with an ex I split from in 2018.
It didn’t go the way I thought. We only broke up because I was graduating from school, and we’d kept a strong friendship since. I thought that meant dating again would be simple.
I didn’t account for how much we had both changed in the last seven years. We never had big fights when we dated before, but now? We were constantly disagreeing. She grew tired after a few months and ended things. The worst part was that instead of feeling sad, I felt relieved.
We don’t really talk anymore, but I’m fine with that. I’ve learned not to assume things about a person’s character. I’m still hoping I meet the right person to grow with, but I’m not in a rush.
“I thought I was too old for this kind of feeling” — Nnedi, 57 | Female | Straight | Abuja
I remarried in 2019, just before my 51st birthday, to a widower I met through a friend. My first marriage had never been about love, and when my husband died at 39, I spent the following years raising three children on my own. By the time they were grown and had left home, I realised I was lonely and needed companionship.
My friend introduced us, and we started jogging together. Slowly, something gentle grew between us. At first, I thought I was too old for this kind of feeling, but then I asked myself — who decides that? My children were surprised, but not opposed, and we had a quiet wedding. I have never regretted it.
This marriage has brought me more love than my first. He is my friend and my gist partner, and marrying him is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Even our children have adapted better than I imagined.
“I’m in a never-ending situationship” — Kewa*, 29 | Female | Bisexual | Abuja
I haven’t tried hard to find love this year because I can’t let go of someone. We met in 2021, and what started as a casual fling quickly became complicated. Within months, I caught feelings and confessed. He said he felt the same, but we never defined things.
Still, we acted like a couple — trips, sex, family introductions, the whole package. Anytime I asked for clarity, he dodged the question or picked a fight. By 2023, I got fed up and ended things, but instead of freedom, it turned into an endless cycle of breaking up and making up.
Each time I say I’m done, he pulls me back with attention and promises. Right now, we’re not speaking, but I know that if he texts, I’ll probably go back. It’s made finding love hard because I keep holding off on exploring new romantic opportunities. I keep hoping this situationship will work out and we’ll actually date, but I’m not sure it’ll ever happen.
“We got back together because of loneliness, not love” — Jide*, 33 | Male | Straight | Lagos
My ex and I reconnected when I ran into her at a funeral. She looked beautiful, and because I was lonely, I only remembered how good we were together.
We started talking again, and before I knew it, we had fallen back into a relationship. I thought it would be smoother since this was our second time, but it wasn’t. Not long after, all our old problems returned. She still didn’t trust me around other women, and I still couldn’t meet her emotional needs.
We broke up again, and it hurt almost as much as the first time. I learned a valuable lesson, sha. Loneliness is not a reason to force love. It won’t work out just because you want it to.
Lessons from failed relationships
Nothing stings quite like the end of a love you thought would last. The silence after constant calls, the empty space where someone’s presence used to fill, and the sharp realisation that love isn’t always enough to keep a relationship going. These stories capture the heartbreaks that left scars, but also the lessons that shaped how people now see love.
“I gave dating younger a chance, but it didn’t work” — Faizal, 25 | Male | Queer | Lagos
I didn’t really make any effort to find love this year. Someone tried to date me, but he was 20 and I’m 25. I’d never dated younger before, but I decided to try it at some point.
I knew it wouldn’t work from the first time we hung out. We were walking by the roadside and he suddenly pulled me aside, saying, ‘You’re on the road, a car is coming.’ In my head, I was like, ‘I’m not a baby. I know how to cross the road.’ He was acting overprotective, and it irked me. That moment was enough to tell me we weren’t compatible. We never even got to the point of having sex because I just couldn’t bring myself to it. He still asks if I’ve reconsidered, but that bridge has sailed.
I guess I’m not ready at the end of the day. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because of my past experiences with exes, but I don’t think so. I’ve healed — especially from the second person I dated. The breakup itself didn’t hurt, but that relationship almost took my life.
Maybe love just isn’t for me. Or maybe it’s something I’ll have to stumble into when I’m not even looking. For now, I’m fine being on my own.
“I thought church would be the safest place to find love” — Blessing, 26 | Female | Straight | Calabar
I haven’t been in a real relationship since I became an adult, so I decided this year would be my year. As a Christian, I believed the best place to find love was within my community. I became more active in my church youth group, joined a creative group for Christians, and even tried being more outgoing—on a budget, of course. But none of it worked out.
I met some nice guys, but the attraction wasn’t there, and things just fizzled. I also met men with the most bizarre expectations, who either saw me as a sex object or made no effort at all. One I’ll never forget was a guy I met at a wedding. He asked me out, and on the day of our “date”, he said I should come to his house instead. When I refused, he went on a rant about how women should “cheapen themselves” if they wanted relationships. I blocked him immediately.
After several failed attempts, I became exhausted. I decided to keep focusing on my faith and goals. I’ve also learnt that just because someone looks like they have sense doesn’t mean they actually do. I’m better at trusting my discernment now. Not everyone deserves your number.
I still believe love is possible, and I hope to find it within the same community I’m already rooted in. I’m tired of chasing new excitement.
“Walking away is painful, but I’ve learned to do it early” — James*, 39 | Male| Straight| Oyo
I’ve been looking for my better half for years now. Anytime a woman catches my interest, I make the move. The problem is that our goals rarely align. Some want to get married in under a year, while others have deal breakers I can’t compromise on, like not wanting children.
Over time, I’ve learned to walk away early from relationships like this to protect my heart and my ability to love. It hasn’t been easy; leaving some of them was really painful.
Still, I believe love is possible for me. The search has been exhausting, but I never say never. I even have a meeting lined up with a potential partner visiting the country in December, so I’m holding on to that hope.
“Only married people want me this year, and I’m tired” — Jumoke*, 30| Female| Pansexual| Lagos
This year has been one of the most unromantic years of my life. No matter how hard I tried, I just didn’t click with anyone reasonable. Instead, it’s been older married people constantly trying to toast me, and honestly, it’s irritating.
My age mates are either emotionally unavailable or already in happy relationships, while these committed men and women keep running after me. At some point, I decided I’d had enough. I’ve joined “the great lock in” of Q4 and shifted my focus to making money.
Still, I believe love is on the horizon for me. I know I’m full of love, and I think I make a great girlfriend. This year might have been disappointing, but I look forward to trying again once it’s over.
“I learned not to put all my eggs in one basket” — Sandra*, 24 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I joined a dating app to be more intentional about finding love this year. I matched with a few guys, but nothing went beyond the first chats because we weren’t compatible.
Then I matched with someone who seemed like a great catch. He was consistent and kind, so I said yes when he asked me out. The minute I agreed, he changed completely. He stopped talking to me regularly and became “the busiest person on the planet.” He even ghosted me days before my birthday, then came back with the excuse that he’d travelled for a summer vacation in Canada. I was so angry I blocked him everywhere. There’s no way I’m keeping someone like that in my life.
That experience taught me not to put all my eggs in one basket or cut off other people just because one person is giving me attention. Love is still possible for me. In fact, I’m seeing someone now who ticks all my boxes. I just want to give it time before I accept it as permanent.
“I’m still healing from the heartbreak I suffered this year” — Ayomide*, 31 | Male | Oyo
This year, I decided to open myself up more to love. It only led to two heartbreaks back-to-back.
The first woman I fell for was amazing. But while I’m liberal, she was extremely conservative. It didn’t take long before we realised we couldn’t make it work. We stayed friends, but a few weeks ago, I heard she got engaged to her ex. That one pained me, but I had to move on.
The second person hurt even more. She made it clear from the start that she only wanted us to stay casual, but I wanted more. I thought I could love her into seeing the potential in us. Instead, she broke my heart. Sometimes, I wonder if she just didn’t like me because I’m overweight.
I don’t know what lessons I’ve really learned from all of this except how to guard my heart. Right now, I’m just trying to keep it together while I heal.
I don’t usually go out looking for love; it finds me, and then I decide if I want to give it a chance. But it’s never turned out the way I imagined. Every time I’ve been in a relationship, I’ve given it my all, only for the other person not to show up in the same way.
It always leaves me disappointed, but I pick myself up and keep moving. The biggest lesson I’ve learned is this: you can’t love someone into loving you back.
Still, it hasn’t shaken my belief in love. I know my person will find me. After all, I was born because of my parents’ love. If they could have it, then I believe it’s still possible for me too.
“Sleeping with my friend was a mistake” — Bisi, 23 | Female | Bisexual | Oyo
2025 was the year I finally gathered enough courage to explore my sexuality by dating women. But it’s been a shaky start.
In April, I acted on a crush I’d had on one of my friends since 2021. She came to visit, things got heated, and we had sex.
Since then, our friendship hasn’t been the same. She claims she’s too busy to hang out, but I see her almost every day on our mutual friends’ snaps. It’s clear she didn’t like me as much as I liked her, and now she’s pulling back. Pretending nothing is wrong whenever I run into her has been tough.
I’ve had to swallow the bitter pill that mixing friendship with sex doesn’t always work. I’m still open to love, but I’ve definitely grown a little jaded. Hopefully, I find a connection that changes my mind soon.
“You can’t buy your way into being loved” — Raheem, 27 | Male| Straight| Niger
I met her in 2023 on social media. I saw her posts, slid into her DMs, and put in serious effort to win her over. From the start, she asked me for money, even for things as little as getting her hair done. I was just starting my banking job and didn’t earn much, but I gave anyway, hoping she would eventually like me back.
The truth was, I was the only one investing in the relationship. She gave me nothing in return. On my birthday, she didn’t get me a gift and said sex was supposed to be enough. I even took loans from friends just to keep up with her demands, while others my age were saving. After about eight months together, she ended our relationship for no tangible reason. What hurt the most was that within weeks, she began dating someone I knew.
That heartbreak crushed me, but it also taught me to value my self-worth. I’ve learned relationships must be mutual. You can’t buy love or force someone to value you.
“Don’t lose your friends over relationships” — Lara, 26 | Female | Straight |Jos
My biggest lesson came from my last relationship. For two years, I dated my faculty president, who was a year ahead of me. I admired him a lot, and when we started dating, I mistook his controlling ways for care. He told me not to wear certain clothes, pushed me to cook and clean whenever I visited, and even tried to dictate the friends I kept. I kept adjusting because I thought that was his way of showing love.
Over time, I lost myself and even cut off some of my closest friends just to keep him happy. In the end, he broke up with me in 2024, leaving me without the friendships I had sacrificed and without the relationship I thought I was holding onto. That experience taught me never to compromise my friendships or standards for a relationship because no matter how much you give, it will never be enough for the wrong person.
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“Always research before jumping into relationships” — Anthonia, 33| Female | Straight |Abuja
In 2023, I discovered the man I’d been dating for nearly two years was married. By then, he had met my parents, we had done our introduction, and marriage was the next step. I only found out because his wife contacted me. At first, I thought she was lying until she sent me their wedding pictures.
From there, everything unravelled. He had claimed he had not dated in years, but in reality, he had a wife and four children. I later found out I was not the only woman he was seeing. Even the job he claimed to have was fake; he was involved in fraud and other illicit activities.
The most painful part is that if his wife hadn’t reached out, I would have married him without knowing the kind of man he really was. That experience taught me to always research before committing to a person. Ask questions, talk to people who know them, and be sure of who they really are.
“I’ve learned to pause between relationships” — Nikami*, 25 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I left a bad relationship earlier this year and felt emotionally vulnerable. While talking through my feelings with an online friend, he was sympathetic and supportive. He checked in often, called, and interacted with my posts. I got drawn to him.
I confessed my feelings, but he said he’d just ended a relationship and wasn’t ready to explore. I accepted that and moved on, but a few weeks later, he brought it up again. He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me and didn’t want to miss out on a great experience because of his past. That encouraged me, and we started dating. Looking back, I think we rushed into it.
We didn’t last long. It was clear we weren’t compatible, but I didn’t want to admit it. I was desperate to leave my ex behind, so I put this new partner on a pedestal. Eventually, he broke up with me, saying I was “too much” for him. I felt hurt and betrayed. Honestly, I wish we’d never gone beyond friendship.
I’m still a lover girl, but this experience taught me something important: both partners’ needs have to be met, and a slow, steady build-up to romance beats a whirlwind fling, even if the rush feels good in the moment.
“I’m waiting to be connected to my forever person” — Annette*, 21 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I downloaded Bumble and matched with this guy. At first, I was spontaneous and said yes to a date, but after a few months, the communication dwindled, so I ghosted him. Later, I matched with another person, and we saw each other almost every week for a few months before we went our separate ways. I don’t feel like I’ve found my forever person.
I haven’t fully healed from past heartbreaks, but I know I’ve become more self-aware. I can recognise red flags at a glance, and I protect my peace better now. Love might still be possible, but I’m indifferent. I’d love to find my person, but even if I don’t, I’ll be fine.
“I’ve finally found my last bus stop” — Abraham, 37 | Male | Straight | Oyo
I left a terrible relationship in 2023. It lasted eight years and left me scarred, insecure and defeated. When we broke up, my ex told me no woman would ever accept me because of my personality.
That statement stuck with me, and I might have believed her if I hadn’t met my current babe. We met at a comedy show in 2025, and the sparks were instant. We agreed to spend time together afterwards, and even though we’ve been together for seven months, it feels like our first date never ended.
I’ve learned that love is always ahead if you let go of the past and embrace the future.
“My boyfriend showed me that love is possible for me” — Favour*, 24 | Female | Straight | Lagos
I wasn’t looking for love this year. I was bored and still heartbroken from a previous relationship. I only wanted to see if I could make someone fall in love with me.
Then I met a guy at a bookstore, and we clicked immediately. I was honest about my emotional state, but it didn’t deter him. We’ve been together for four months now, and this is the kind of love I once prayed for. My man has shown me that true love is possible. Everything I had to struggle and fight for in past relationships came easily in this one. The best part is that I never even had to ask; he’s just perfect.
Finding love later in life
Some people may disagree, but finding love later in life carries its own magic. It’s the widow who learns to laugh again after years of silence, the single parent who thought their chance had passed, the retiree who stumbles into companionship when they least expect it, the partners who have endured years of a loveless relationship and young ones who have waited for so long. These stories remind us that love doesn’t always arrive early. Sometimes, it waits until you’re older, wiser, and ready to welcome it with open arms.
“He let us adopt my niece” — Jane, 52 | Female | Straight| Enugu
“I got married at 44 to a widower in his mid-50s. From the start, his sister was hostile towards me. She’d managed his business after his late wife passed and saw me as a threat. She spread lies, but he never listened. Instead, he put me in the business and, when her behaviour became unbearable, asked her to leave. His maturity meant everything to me.
The bigger challenge was children. His family constantly reminded me he had none from his first marriage. We tried IVF without success, and when I suggested adoption, they opposed it. Still, he supported me and stood by my decision to adopt my niece.
We’ve now been married eight years, and marrying him remains one of the best choices of my life. He’s always been kind and secured my future.
“At 62, I didn’t think butterflies still existed for me” — Agnes, 62 | Female | Straight | Kwara
I wasn’t looking for love after my husband died. For ten years, my life revolved around children, church, and work. At 60, I thought romance was behind me.
Then a widower from my church choir started noticing me. He’d walk me to the bus stop after rehearsals and bring me gifts. Slowly, conversations turned into companionship. One evening, he asked if I’d be open to something more. I laughed nervously, but my heart beat faster. At my age, I didn’t expect to feel that again.
I was nervous about my children’s opinions, but they surprised me with their support. That gave me the courage to pursue the relationship.
Honestly, I didn’t think love was still in the cards for me. But here I am, holding someone’s hand again at 62. If nothing else, it’s proof that life still has surprises.
“I found love late but it was worth the wait” — Eze*, 37 | Male | Queer | Port Harcourt
I was 33 when I finally admitted I was queer to myself. For years, I’d buried the thought under church activities and straight relationships that fooled everyone but me. I thought by the time I came out, I’d be too old for love. Everyone seemed settled or divorced already.
Then I joined a queer book club. That’s where I met Chike*, a 36-year-old doctor who seemed super friendly. We started sharing rides home, then dinners, then confessions about all the pretending we’d both done in past relationships.
One night in his car, he reached for my hand, and we kissed. It was completely unexpected, but I went with the flow, and that’s how we started our journey.
In all, my experience is a reminder that even after decades of denial, love could still come gently. Finding my partner at 37 gave me new patience with myself. I hadn’t missed my chance at love; it just came when I was finally ready.
“I surprisingly found love in an old friend” — Kate*, 29 | Female | Straight | Oyo
I haven’t had much luck with love in the last few years. When my last relationship ended in 2024, I decided to stay single for a while. I wanted to break free from the cycle of dating shallow people who didn’t really see me.
One of my closest friends became my biggest pillar of support during that time. He checked in on me often, listened when I vented, and made me laugh when the heartbreak felt too heavy. Slowly, I realised I was becoming more fond of him than I expected.
Eventually, I told him I liked him. To my surprise, he admitted he liked me too, but didn’t want to be my rebound. He asked me to wait a few months to be sure my feelings were genuine. That hesitation didn’t push me away. If anything, it made me like him more. His patience showed me he actually cared about my heart.
Two months into our relationship now, I’m grateful I didn’t let fear of “ruining the friendship” hold me back.
“I found love again at 50” — Lekan*, 50 | Male | Straight | Osun
I didn’t try to find love this year; it found me. I first got married in 2001 to a woman I thought would be my forever. But after fifteen years, we went our separate ways in 2016 because we couldn’t have a baby. I suggested adoption, but she was strongly against it.
When that marriage ended, it felt like my heart had dried out. I realised not everyone means it when they say “for better or worse.” For years, I didn’t think I’d ever love again.
Then, earlier this year, I met Remi* (36) during a visit to the bank. She was at the customer support desk talking to an officer, and to me, she shined like a star. I struck up a conversation, pretending to need her help with my issue, and from there, things just fell into place.
We’ve been seeing each other since April, and it feels like I’ve known her for ages. With her, I feel loved and comfortable in a way I didn’t think was possible again. Our relationship has renewed my hope in the future, and this time, I truly hope it lasts forever.
“I finally left a toxic situation behind” — Dele*, 38 Male | Straight | Oyo
I wasn’t really searching for love in 2025. Since 2019, I’d been stuck in a toxic on-and-off relationship with my ex. Being with her was hell, but the moment we broke up, I’d start missing her and somehow find my way back.
This year, during one of our many breaks in May, I met an incredible woman. Dating her has been a mind-blowingly different experience. We’ve never had a shouting match, and she lights up every time she sees me. After just a month with her, I blocked my ex everywhere. For the first time, I’ve decided not to look back even if this relationship doesn’t last.
This year has taught me that loneliness is never a good enough reason to go back to a bad situation. It’s only been a few months, but I’ve never felt this happy. For the first time in years, I’m thinking about the future with hope instead of fear.
“I Waited three decades before knowing what real companionship feels like” — Christopher*, 61 | Male | Straight | Port Harcourt
My first marriage lasted 30 years, but if I’m honest, it was duty more than love. After my wife passed, I told myself I’d live the rest of my life alone. Who starts dating again in their sixties?
Then I joined a walking group for retirees. That’s where I met Ngozi. She was 59, loud, funny, and kept teasing me about my slow pace. I started looking forward to those walks, just to hear her laugh.
One afternoon, after a long trek, she slipped her hand into mine like it was the most natural thing. I felt my heart racing and for a moment I thought my blood pressure was out to get me. At 66, I finally understood what people mean when they say they’re feeling butterflies in their tummies.
I don’t know how many years I have left, but I know I don’t want to spend them alone. It’s a beautiful thing to know that I’ve also experienced what true love feels like.
“I thought I was unlovable” — Godwin*, 31, Male | Queer | Edo
I spent most of my twenties hiding. Dating apps scared me, church was judgmental and I convinced myself love wasn’t for men like me. By 30, I had resigned myself to hookups and long stretches of loneliness.
Then I met Tunde* at a friend’s game night. He was playful, always laughing, and when our eyes met, I felt something shift. Later, he walked up to me and asked for my number. Nobody had ever moved so strongly at me like that.
We took it slow at first. Late-night voice notes, cooking together, talking about family trauma and dreams. With him, I didn’t have to shrink myself or perform. Love felt like safety.
Sometimes, I mourn the years I wasted hiding. But mostly, I’m grateful. At 31, I finally know what it means to love without fear, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
“My friend introduced me to the love of my life” — Doyin, 29 | Female | Straight | Abuja
At the end of last year, I was tired of not meeting the kind of people I wanted romantically. So, I told my friends to match me with anyone they thought would be a good fit.
One of them in Oyo invited me to her sister’s wedding and promised to introduce me to a family friend. That’s how I met Tolu*. From that day, we’ve been inseparable.
Sometimes, I can’t believe we only met this year. It feels like he’s always been part of my life. I’m crazy about him, and every day, I find new things to love. I’ve already met his family, and he’ll meet mine before the year ends.
This year showed me that love can spring from the most unexpected places, and I’m so happy it did.
“I finally met the love of my life” — Folasade, 42 | Female | Straight | Oyo
In the area where I grew up, people assumed I would never marry. I was one of those strict girls they used to call “spiricoco”. I thought I’d meet a Christian man and marry early, but it never happened.
Even though I only dated men who shared my faith, they’d pressure me for premarital sex. And as I got older, some even treated marriage to me like a favour. I refused to compromise on my beliefs and accepted that I might be alone till the Lord calls me home.
But then Bolaji*, a fellow church member, struck up a conversation with me in March and expressed interest in a relationship. At first, I was hesitant, but I began to warm up to our courtship.
We’re now planning to get married next year, and I can say this is everything I hoped for and more.
“I thought I was too old for this kind of feeling” — Nnedi, 57 | Female | Straight | Abuja
I remarried in 2019, just before my 51st birthday, to a widower I met through a friend. My first marriage had never been about love, and when my husband died at 39, I spent the following years raising three children on my own. By the time they were grown and had left home, I realised I was lonely and needed companionship.
My friend introduced us, and we started jogging together. Slowly, something gentle grew between us. At first, I thought I was too old for this kind of feeling, but then I asked myself — who decides that? My children were surprised, but not opposed, and we had a quiet wedding. I have never regretted it.
This marriage has brought me more love than my first. He is my friend and my gist partner, and marrying him is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Even our children have adapted better than I imagined.
“It was finally the right time” — Demilade*, 28 | Male | Straight | Oyo
We’d been friends for a long time and had a mutual attraction, but we weren’t close. I tried to explore my feelings for her in 2022, but she had just ended a relationship. She said, “I like you, but it’s bad timing right now.” I accepted and moved on.
Fast forward to 2025, we both attended a games night at the start of the year. In the middle of the games, we snuck off to another room and spent the night gisting and drinking together. At the end of the night, I asked if I could kiss her, and she said yes. It was electric.
I asked her out on a date after, and she accepted that too. I joked that I’d finally found the right time, and we laughed. It’s been smooth sailing since then. We became official in April, and it’s been amazing. I’ve learned that you can meet the right person at the wrong time, but if it’s meant to be, the right time will come around again.
“Love surprisingly found me in the village” — Ibrahim*, 45 | Male | Straight | Ondo
I gave up on love and marriage a long time ago. I like women, but I can’t afford two wives, and knowing my personality, I avoided marriage in my 20s. When I halfheartedly tried in my late 30s due to family pressure, the women I met were disloyal. So I gave up entirely.
In 2024, I travelled to the village for a relative’s funeral. That’s where I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She turned out to be my younger cousin’s friend. We hit it off and started seeing each other for drinks and quick meals. At the end of the year, I called her and bared my feelings. She was shy at first, but she said yes.
Being with her feels so different. I used to say one woman can’t satisfy a man, but Fade* satisfies me and makes me happy. She’s ten years younger, but we play like children. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have believed this was possible.
I know she’ll be my wife; I’m just waiting for the perfect time to ask for her hand.
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Methodology
Between August and October 2025, the Zikoko Ships team interviewed 100 Nigerians across 15+ states about their experiences with love and relationships. Participants ranged from 19 to 68 years old and represented diverse backgrounds, sexual orientations, and relationship statuses.
Data Collection: Interviews were conducted through both written questionnaires and oral conversations, allowing participants to share their stories in the format most comfortable to them. Some respondents requested anonymity, indicated by asterisks (*) after their names.
Geographic Representation: Stories were gathered from respondents across Nigeria, including Lagos, Abuja, Oyo, Kaduna, Kwara, Anambra, Kano, Ogun, Enugu, Delta, Kogi, Osun, Edo, Calabar, Port Harcourt, Jos, Niger State, and Nasarawa.
Thematic Organisation: Stories were organised into thematic categories including first loves and crushes, relationships that almost happened, dating apps and online connections, long distance and family pressure, getting back with an ex, lessons from failed relationships, and finding love later in life.
Ethical Considerations: All participants gave informed consent to share their stories. Names followed by asterisks have been changed to protect privacy. Some identifying details were modified at participants’ request while maintaining the authenticity of their experiences.
Special Thanks: To the 100 Nigerians who trusted us with their stories of love, heartbreak, hope, and resilience.
Help Shape Nigeria’s Biggest Love Report! We’re asking Nigerians about relationships, marriage, sex, money, and everything in between. Your anonymous answers will become a landmark report on modern Nigerian love. Click here to take the survey. It’s100% anonymous.
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Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
Kenny (30) and Gbemi (30) grew up as childhood friends, but life pulled them in different directions for over a decade. When they reconnected in 2024, a casual catch-up turned into something deeper.
On this week’s Love Life, they talk about rekindling old ties, finding common ground between her feminist ideals and his traditional beliefs, and how something as small as ₦1k airtime almost tore them apart.
If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.
What’s your earliest memory of each other?
Kenny: Gbemi and I have known each other since 2006 — almost 20 years now. We grew up in the same Lagos neighbourhood, and I was in JS1 or JS2 when we became friends. I never thought we’d be romantically connected one day. But yeah, that was about it.
Gbemi: Everything he said. We literally grew up together. He knew my mum, and I knew his siblings. We’d just say hello and hi to each other. It was strictly platonic, plus we were just kids at the time.
Kenny: We were always around each other until we all left for university around 2011 and lost contact. It took about 10 years before we reconnected.
How did that reconnection happen?
Kenny: This happened around February 2024. I was still in a relationship with my ex, but my mind kept flashing to Gbemi randomly for weeks. I was on a spiritual journey at the time, and after it ended, I still couldn’t stop thinking about her. I started getting uncomfortable, like, “What’s happening?”
One day, I realised her younger brother was following me on Instagram. I sent him a DM, we reconnected and started bantering from there. During one of our conversations, I asked about Gbemi. He said she was fine, unmarried, and was working somewhere in Lekki. Then I asked for her number, but he said he’d confirm with her first. He ultimately gave it to me after I paid him some money. He said he wouldn’t drop his sister’s number for free.
Anyway, I messaged her on WhatsApp, and she replied, “Is this Kenny?” Then she ghosted me for three weeks: no calls, no chats, nothing.
I was at work one night in April when she suddenly called. I was so happy—I’d been waiting for almost two months. We talked for close to an hour that night, and from there, we started talking regularly.
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Curious, Gbemi. Why did you ghost him?
Gbemi: You know how Lagos is. A girl trying to find love in Lagos—you always have distractions everywhere. Sometimes you dabble in it and get hurt. Sometimes people come around, and you don’t even bother to acknowledge them.
I thought it was better when somebody you don’t know messes you up than when it’s someone from the neighbourhood. I know your family, you know mine. It would just be too awkward if we went home and ran into each other. I wasn’t looking for that kind of drama.
But I got bored one evening after work and thought, “Let me call Kenny back.” That’s how we got into it.
I should mention that I was also involved with someone else during that time.
Right. So, how did things progress between you guys over time?
Kenny: Our talking stage lasted three months — April, May, and June. Throughout those three months, we never met physically. We just caught up on all the missed years over the phone.
Gbemi: It was like reuniting with an old friend. But the thing is, we’d both grown — he had become his own man, and I had become my own woman. We’d lived different lives, had different experiences, and that shaped who we were.
Naturally, that meant we clashed a lot; our ideas and ideologies didn’t always align. I have strong feminist views, and he doesn’t necessarily share those. He’s more traditional and conservative.
So sometimes, when I’d express myself, he’d look at me like, “Why are you being stubborn?” And I’d tell him, “We’ve moved on as a society; don’t take us back to the 18th century.”
I couldn’t stand some of his outdated ideas— the man does this, the woman does that. Although we argued over things like that, we also shared many values, such as kindness and faith. He’s very God-fearing and kind, and that balance helped us. No matter how heated things got, we always made sure to hold space for each other. That was how we found our rhythm and balance.
Kenny: During this period, Gbemi told me that she’d broken up with her boyfriend. She said she’d had enough and didn’t want to go back to him. I consoled her and gave her about a month to let go. Then I asked her to go out with me on a date.
We met at Surulere and went to Lekki for lunch. That was the first time we’d seen each other physically in almost 15 years. That night at the lunch date, I asked her out, and she said yes. It was one of the happiest nights of my life.
Gbemi: When Kenny came along and said he liked me, I told him, “No, you can’t like me romantically. I have somebody in my life.” I don’t like messy situations. I can be in a relationship every three months, but I keep it clean. I don’t want to be hiding; it’s too much gymnastics for me.
That relationship was already on the rocks, but I was still hoping for the best. So when Kenny said he was interested, I said we could only be friends. He said okay.
When everything ended with the other guy, Kenny gave me his shoulders to lean on. He doted on me more, and we had video calls throughout the night. I knew where we were headed. It was only a matter of time.
We became official in June 2024.
Did you think enough time had passed between your breakup and when you agreed to date him?
Gbemi: Yes. I’d already started checking out of my previous relationship long before it ended. I’d given my all, and it just wasn’t working; the back and forth had drained me.
By the time it finally ended, I was already done. Even if Kenny hadn’t come along, I’d still have pulled the plug eventually. His presence didn’t speed things up; it just made it easier to move on.
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Fair enough. What were the early days of your relationship like?
Kenny: The first three months were rough. Honestly, I even thought we’d break up at some point. We had a lot of compatibility issues and frequent clashes. There was just a misalignment.
Wait, you guys didn’t have a honeymoon phase?
Gbemi: We had one for a week. After that, reality set in. I came into the relationship still healing from my last one, and he was recovering from a broken engagement. So, both of us entered with our eyes wide open. It was like, “If you mess up, you collect.”
We weren’t soft with each other. Everything was intense. There were too many “No, you can’t do that” and “This isn’t what I want.” The relationship hit a rough patch in those first three months.
Kenny: I remember travelling to Oyo for a film shoot at KAP Village for about two weeks. We were only on video calls during that time, and one time she tried calling me, and I wasn’t reachable. She didn’t take that lightly at all.
She was upset with me for days, and we didn’t talk. I tried to reach out to her siblings, but she told me, “Don’t call my siblings. Don’t come.” I even went to her workplace in Lekki and didn’t find her. I thought that was the end.
After a 2-3 week stretch of silence, she finally messaged me. I asked if we were breaking up. She said no — that she’d thought about everything, done all the permutations in her head, and still found me worthy.
Gbemi: Another major issue that rocked our boat was an airtime situation. We were talking one night, and my data finished. He said he’d send me data, but because his network was bad, he ended up sending me ₦1k airtime instead. I woke up on Sunday morning and saw it. I was like, “What exactly is ₦1k airtime for?”
I called him and said, “No, this cannot work. You’re not going to start with this kind of thing. If you have capacity to do something for your partner, meet them at that capacity. Why are you lowballing me?” He later sent ₦5k, but I told him straight up: this is not it. If we’re going to be here and actually do a legit relationship, you can’t be playing in my face like this. It’s better for you not to offer than to offer something below expectations.
Hmmm.
Kenny: There’s a popular saying I learned growing up: “However you start is how you’ll end.” If you start with ₦10 million, that becomes the baseline.
In my mind, it was a small, thoughtful gesture since we were still in the early days. But she took it personally. I knew my babe was a high-class babe, and I knew I could handle the relationship financially. But I wanted to start from ground zero, to make sure she loved me for who I am, not for money.
I’d been engaged, and when it didn’t work out, I told myself, “You have to get this right. Let a woman love you for who you are, not for what you give her.”
Gbemi: Moving on, we also had issues about gender roles. Like I said earlier, I’m heavy on feminism, and he’s traditional. We’d have conversations about cooking, and he’d ask, “What’s your take on cooking?” I’d say, “I’m not big on cooking.” He’d be like, “So who will be cooking?” I’d say, “You. Don’t you eat?” All my responses were being taken out of context. He felt like I was too opinionated, stubborn, and that he couldn’t work with me.
On my side, I thought he wanted to try to break my wings. I believe my partner should be my greatest cheerleader, encouraging me, supporting me, doing their best for me, and I’ll give them the same in return.
But Kenny is a very kind person. After we’d give each other hell, we’d come back and say, “Is this how you want to continue? Is this how you’re going to be when we get married?” One thing he always said to me was: “This relationship is leading to marriage. Whatever thing you’re giving me hot for, we need to figure it out.” That was constant for us, and it really helped.
I see. So how did you guys eventually work around these issues?
Gbemi: It was very important for us to treat the relationship as a contract. We update the terms of our agreement from time to time and set policies for each other.
The terms include mutual respect: not screaming at each other when we have issues, keeping each other updated on our whereabouts, sexual satisfaction for both parties, trust that we’re building as we go, and acceptance of each other at every point in life.
We pray together. We have terms against cheating, and anything involving living with the opposite gender is a no-no. We have access to each other’s phones and chats. My WhatsApp DP is his picture, and his DP is my picture. We make it clear. We stay transparent with each other.
Kenny: It’s like having a contract with an organisation. It’s not just a relationship backed by love. Everybody’s eyes are open. The terms and conditions are stated here, and they must be obeyed.
There’s a price for non-compliance. However, it depends on the gravity of what has been done. For instance, if we get into it and emotions are heightened, and I raise my voice, Kenny will say, “Baby, you’re raising your voice.” That’s my cue to calm down.
The golden rules that must never be broken are: cheating and disrespect. Break those, and it affects the progress of our relationship.
Curious, though. How do you navigate your different views on feminism and traditional gender roles?
Gbemi: As much as Kenny is a traditional person, he’s kind. His kindness comes first and prevails in all situations. Some men are traditional and wicked — the wickedness prevails. But for Kenny, his kindness prevails. He’s able to empathise and meet me halfway, validate how I feel, and not just defend his gender.
He’d always say, “As long as you don’t hate me, be a feminist.” I’d say, “There’s you, there’s your gender. You have to exist outside of your gender.” The fact that your gender is the perpetrator of the most vile things doesn’t mean you have to defend it just because that’s your gender. We’re able to agree on most of those issues.
Also, Kenny is domesticated. I’m not big on doing domestic chores at home, and he fills that gap. He’ll just do it easily—no stories, no excuses. Sometimes I’ll even complain that something isn’t properly done, and he’ll say, “You won’t do this thing, but I’m doing it and you’re still complaining?”
Because of these things about him, I can see that at his core, he’s empathetic, kind, gentle, and he listens. That’s what’s important.
Kenny: One thing I’d say is that we complement each other. We’re like toothpaste and toothbrush — we just fit. For example, she hates leaving dirty plates overnight, so she washes them before bed. But on the days she doesn’t, I do it first thing in the morning. I also warm food and make sure everything’s set before she wakes up. Little things like that keep us connected.
Nice. It’s been a year and some months together. At what point did you realise you’d truly fallen in love?
Kenny: For me, love is not a feeling. Love is commitment and understanding. That’s my definition. I’ve always loved her from day one. I was committed to understanding her.
But the time I knew she really loved me was this January. I was extremely broke. One day, she came around even though I’d told her not to because I didn’t like her visiting when I was broke.
Gbemi didn’t listen. Instead, she went to the market, bought soup and different food items with her own money, came home, cooked for me, cleaned everywhere, and took care of me. Then she gave me an extra ₦25,000 to hold on to that month. She messaged me saying, “I don’t like that you’re not able to share your pain with me.”
I was literally crying on the bus ride home. I thought, “I’ve met the bone of my bone.” That’s when I knew.
Gbemi: For me, it was last year. Kenny was very supportive in helping me transition into tech.
I saw how selfless he was about it, and I thought, “This is a very nice trait. I hope this is genuine.” I’ve accused him of not being genuine a number of times because what he’s offering isn’t something you commonly find in a typical Nigerian relationship without added drama. But he’s been quite consistent, and it’s made me realise I’m in love with him.
Fair enough. Considering the shared history with your families, how involved are they in your relationship?
Gbemi: That incident where Kenny called my siblings marked a turning point for us. We decided we’re never going to bring family in to sort out issues for us. That boundary had to be established. He’s more family-oriented than I am, so it’s easier for me to say, “Don’t involve my family in this.” Even when he’s talking to my mum and indulging her, I’m like, “Stop, stop. Bye-bye, mummy. We’ll talk to you later.”
Both families are involved, but there’s a clear boundary.
Kenny: Everything she said. Gbemi’s really cool with my younger sister, who frequently visits my place. They’re really good together. Her mum also checks up on me and prays for me. Still, we understand the boundaries and try not to push them.
Neat. What’s the best thing about being with each other, and how has this relationship changed you?
Gbemi: Kenny is ambitious and driven. His hunger for success rubs off on me a lot. He’s tech-oriented, smart, and intelligent. I tell him, “When we have kids, I want them to have your intelligence.”
For somebody like me who struggles with focus, when I’m around Kenny and there’s something I have to do, he’s like, “Bring the laptop, let me show you how it’s done.” A few days ago, he was helping me with a front-end project. The way he was doing it made me feel like I was back in university, watching my 400-level boyfriend solve a complex math question. He drives me to want to be the best version of myself.
Kenny: Gbemi has changed me in so many ways. I used to have some emotional instability, and she’s helped me with that. The relationship has also changed me in terms of financial prudence and listening. I used to be a very poor listener before, but now I’m much more patient. I can let her talk, and I’ll just be quiet because I know we’ll resolve it eventually.
She likes to be protected and provided for, and that’s pushed me to do better financially.
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your relationship?
Gbemi: 10 over 10. In a world full of chaos and mischief, it’s not easy to find your own person. It’s not easy to find somebody who gets you and is even willing to understand you. It’s not easy to have somebody who sees you for who you are and encourages you to be the best at whatever you do. Everybody else is trying to one-up the other person. But I’ve found my guy.
Kenny: I’d say 10, too. This is the longest relationship I’ve been in. I look forward to it becoming a century. She checks all my boxes.
What’s the future of this relationship?
Kenny: Bright. We will definitely inform Zikoko about the actual marriage deal very soon. We have plans for certain things we want to achieve before I pop the big question.
Gbemi: Marriage brings out different sides of you, so we’ll see. But what I’ll get in marriage is a man who loves me 100%, who cares about me, who provides, who protects, and who loves me completely. I’m looking forward to it.
If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.
We often talk about the love that binds siblings together — the inside jokes, shared childhood memories, and the unspoken loyalty. But what happens when shared blood can’t bridge resentment, difference, or emotional distance?
In this story, we spoke to people who love their siblings but struggle to connect with them as individuals. From clashing values to years of emotional neglect, they talk about learning to coexist with people they love but don’t always like.
“Patriarchal norms have ruined my relationship with my brothers” — Nafeesat*, 21, F
Being raised along strict gender lines has left a chasm between Nafeesat and her brothers.
“Growing up, my family’s dynamics were heavily influenced by patriarchal views. My dad believed women did domestic chores while men provided. Beyond the chores, it robbed my brothers of empathy. They see women as weaker vessels, and as a feminist, it grinds my gears.
It’s affected how I interact with them. Where I feel solidarity or understanding with my sisters, I’m short-tempered with my brothers. I often have to remind myself that I love them even though our ideals are worlds apart
I’ve tried to bridge the gap over the years with little success. I’m learning to accept that people grow and change differently. It’s not always easy navigating my relationship with them, but I’m learning to set stronger boundaries and prioritise my wellbeing.”
“I love my older brother, but I don’t think I’ve ever liked him” — Lolade*, 26, F
Lolade has always felt isolated from her older brother because he never had her back. As long as she doesn’t hear bad news, she’s fine with their estrangement.
“I don’t remember ever liking my older brother as a person. Since childhood, I never felt like he had my back in the ways other people’s siblings did. He had a “sort yourself out” mentality; even his friends bullied me.
Now that we’re grown, we’re even more distant. I can go months without seeing or speaking to him and feel nothing. It’s so bad that I’m pleasantly surprised when he’s kind to me because it’s not typical of him. My mum worries about our dynamics and often asks me to call him more often, but I can’t force what isn’t there. I want to believe it’s his personality, not that he’s a bad person.
As long as my mum doesn’t have any bad news about him, I’m okay. I don’t feel the need to try to fix our relationship.”
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“My brother’s obsession with religion has strained our relationship” — Misan*, 31, M
Misan’s brother puts church above everything, leaving him to shoulder family responsibilities alone.
“When my brother suddenly got religious, I didn’t have an issue with it. But soon, he started choosing church above everyone and everything. These days, I’m left to handle our family issues and wahala alone. Whenever I try to speak to him, he hides behind “God’s will” and “just pray about it”.
I wish he’d focus on his career and become everything our parents sent him abroad to be, but he’s obsessed with church.
I pretend everything’s fine so the family doesn’t worry, but he frustrates me. I’ve accepted he won’t change. I once imagined us working together in the same field and achieving great things, but now I’ve let that dream go. I can’t keep waiting for him.”
“My brothers’ alcohol addiction makes him hard to like” — Zach*, 26, M
Age and addiction have created a rift between Zach and his brothers. And it breaks his heart.
“There wasn’t one defining event that made me start disliking my brothers — it just happened over time. They’re both much older, and over time, I’ve watched them turn into the conservative, myopic men they once swore they’d never become.
It’s even worse because my oldest brother has sickle cell, so I constantly feel the weight of his mortality. Every interaction feels like a high-stakes one.
It also makes me question myself: do I actually like him, or am I just trying to be my brother’s keeper?
I have more in common with my other brother, but he’s an alcoholic and a domestic abuser. It makes me wonder how much I’m allowed to love him when he has traits I despise. I’ve distanced myself from him, and even though my extended family keeps trying to get me to forgive him, I pay them no mind. They weren’t there when I heard the muffled cries of his wife or when he physically abused me.
For me, being related to an abuser is already hard enough. I don’t need to hold his hands and sing kumbaya with him.”
“I hide my opinions to maintain my relationship with my siblings” — Rayo*, 29, F
Rayo loves her siblings, but their conservative opinions often put them at odds.
“My relationship with my siblings is complicated. I’m the last child, and the age gap between us is wide. We have a family group chat, and every time we talk about world politics or societal issues, I realise we’re on opposite sides of the spectrum.
I decided early on to keep my liberal opinions to myself. I know if I ever share them, I’ll probably get banished from the family.
It’s a bit odd being among people I love but don’t agree with — especially when it comes to their views on women, gender, politics and more. Still, I love them enough to stay quiet for as long as I can to maintain our relationship.”
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“My sister the most difficult difficult person to deal with” — Godwin*, 24, M
Godwin loves his sister, but her short temper and unwillingness to help with simple favours have put a permanent strain on their relationship.
“I’m not perfect, but my sister is one of the most difficult people I’ve ever come across. I don’t remember ever being fond of her because she has a terrible temper and, as a result, a bad character.
For instance, I can’t joke with her the way people joke with their siblings. She can play pranks on me, but the moment I return the energy, she blows up.
She also hates doing favours. Once, I needed N16,500 to buy something and promised to pay it back that same night. Instead of just sending it, she got irritated and nagged a lot before agreeing.
If she wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, she makes it everyone’s problem. Honestly, if we weren’t siblings, we’d just be acquaintances. I’ve accepted our relationship for what it is, but I know we’ll grow even more distant as we get older.”
The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.
Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.
How long have you been with your partner?
Tayo* and I started dating in March, so that’s about six months.
How did you both meet?
We met at a career event. I’m usually a shy person, but everyone says it’s important for professionals to network. So, I deliberately approached people at that event; Tayo was one of them. Our conversation was so smooth and funny, I forgot how to be shy.
Haha. Love to see it
We talked about everything from annoying LinkedIn posts to our favourite movies. After the event, we exchanged numbers and continued the conversation on WhatsApp.
Two weeks later, he invited me out for a movie and ice cream date. He asked me to be his girlfriend after the date. I said yes with a quickness. Our relationship is hands down the best I’ve ever had. We’re so in sync; we talk about every single thing and share similar values.
Plus, Tayo is such a fine man. I look at him sometimes and giggle to myself. Hard girl like me.
It goes both ways, too. I can tell he dotes on me. I just feel really lucky. I still can’t believe I found love the one time I managed to drag myself out of the house.
Shots fired at home bodies. What kind of money conversations do you have?
We’re pretty open with our finances. One of the key points we took away from the career event we attended together was the importance of being open about one’s income as a creative or young professional, so we know what’s attainable and do not undervalue ourselves.
Tayo and I work with clients; he works in marketing and freelances frequently, while I often work with different people as a virtual assistant. From day one, a recurring conversation topic between us was how we charged for services and negotiated rates.
Tayo earns far more than I do — at least ₦800k/ month — and he’s mastered the art of pitching and landing foreign clients. So, he’s my unofficial career coach. We’re always talking about how I can enhance my professional brand and increase my income. He edits and proofreads my pitches and is my sounding board for negotiations.
I landed my first foreign client two months after we started dating and earned $800 for the one month I worked with that client. Tayo has taught me how to push for more, and I’m confident I’ll get even more dollar-paying clients soon.
Energy
On the other hand, I’m also helping Tayo with his spending habits. He can be an impulsive spender, but since we both talk about our incomes and expenses, I can caution him on certain moves. As a firm believer in saving, I’m proud to say I’ve influenced Tayo to take his savings journey more seriously since we started dating.
In a way, we’re helping each other reach our financial goals. For me, it’s to make more money, and for him, it’s to manage his money better. We’re getting there slowly and surely.
It’s honestly giving power couple. About those savings, what do your safety nets look like?
I save at least ₦50k monthly and currently have ₦800k saved. It’s even low because I dipped into it to repair my laptop a few weeks ago. Tayo now saves between ₦100k – ₦150k monthly. He only got consistent with it about three months ago, so his portfolio is still under ₦500k.
We’re studying investment options because he has the capital for it, and investments are a better way to grow wealth. We’re currently in between stocks, crypto and real estate. We might do all three, just at different amounts.
I notice you’re saying “we”. Are you considering joint investments?
We haven’t actually discussed that. I guess I’m just using “we” because we’re both fully involved in the process. Who knows? Perhaps when we settle on an investment option and cadence, we can pool our money together.
Let’s talk about gifts and dates. How does that work in your relationship?
I’m still a homebody, so I’m mostly content with hanging out at his place while he cooks or orders food. When we manage to leave the house and go somewhere, Tayo handles the expenses.
We recently celebrated our six-month anniversary with a two-day staycation in Lagos. I booked and paid for the train tickets (about ₦15k for the return trip) and also covered some of the cab rides we took in Lagos. Tayo handled the hotel room, food and other expenses. I think those came down to approximately ₦500k.
I also gifted him some t-shirts and a pair of shoes for our anniversary, which cost me ₦65k. His gift to me was a pair of slippers I’d been eyeing since forever and a surprise ₦100k alert. I was legit shocked about that one. He said, “I didn’t like that your name wasn’t showing up in my debit history, so I wanted to fix it.”
In my head, I was like, “Is that how you relationship people use to do?” It’s crazy because now I’m thinking about how to shock him with money, too.
Romance is not dead o. Out of curiosity, have you both discussed a future together?
Oh definitely. I must marry this boy and make him my baby daddy.
You’re killing me. Any idea how you’ll both run your home?
It’ll still be an extension of what we currently do. We’ll be open about our incomes and handle expenses together. Tayo will take the lead, but I’ll still pitch in. It’s our money, so we should enjoy the best quality of lives our joint incomes can afford.
What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?
We’ve talked about owning multiple properties together to earn passive income while we focus on other things. That’s the ideal future.
Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
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On the Streets is a Zikoko weekly series about the chaos of modern dating: from situationships and endless talking stages, to heartbreak and everything it means to be single in today’s world.
After years of battling insecurities, fertility struggles, and the pressure to prove she was “wife material,” Ada* (30) thought she’d finally found stability with a patient, God-fearing man who seemed ready to build a future with her. But after nearly seven years, he turned out to be nothing more than a thief of time, leaving her heart shattered in the worst possible way.
What’s your relationship status, and how do you feel about it?
I just found out my fiancé of six years got married to someone else. I’m still trying to process it, but I guess I’m single now. It hurts, but it’s for the best. The whole situation opened my eyes to the emotional abuse I’d endured in my relationships.
I’m sorry. But how did things get to this point?
It started with my self-esteem issues and need for acceptance.
Growing up, I battled health problems that made me self-conscious and convinced me I wasn’t attractive. That insecurity followed me into adulthood and shaped how I interacted with romantic relationships.
My first serious one was in 2010 when I met John through his younger sister. I was 15, almost done with secondary school and excited to date an older guy. I didn’t know what a healthy relationship looked like, so I jumped in.
How did it go with John?
I thought we were fine until I realised how much I tolerated. John had a habit of ghosting me for days whenever we disagreed. It made me scared to upset him, so I always gave in.
He was very close to his family. During semester breaks, I travelled to his village instead of going home. His family was traditional — they sold fufu, cooked with firewood, and swept with palm fronds. I wasn’t used to that lifestyle, but I forced myself to adjust to prove I was wife material. His sister once insulted me for making fufu wrongly and said my mother hadn’t trained me well. When John took her side, I started rethinking everything.
He also mocked my snoring, saying I disturbed the whole compound at night. The final straw came when he started pressuring me for sex even though we’d agreed to wait until marriage. When I refused, he called off the relationship. By then, I was too tired to fight for it. That was in 2017.
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Must’ve been hard.
It was. But I was already falling for someone else, so it was easy to walk away. Solomon*, a guy from church I’d admired for years, had started giving me attention.
Tell me about Solomon.
I’d known Solomon since 2009 through the Nigerian Catholic Youth Organisation, where he served as president. I was an exco, so we met during quarterly meetings. I admired him because he was very charismatic and a good orator. I never thought I had a chance since a lot of girls liked him.
In 2017, we exchanged numbers during a retreat. A year later, I wished him a happy birthday, and that was how we hit it off. By 2019, when I came to Lagos for holidays, he asked me to be his girlfriend.
Sweet. How did that relationship go?
At first, it felt perfect. Unlike John, he was intentional. He met my mum and siblings, checked up on them, and respected my boundaries about waiting until marriage — until my birthday in April 2020.
We’d planned the day together, but he ignored me all day. When he resurfaced, he apologised and said he wanted to make it up to me “specially” by making love to me.
Hmm.
Unfortunately, nothing about that moment, which I’d initially been saving for my wedding night felt special. Sex with him was painful and unfulfilling. In hindsight, that was the beginning of the end.
After COVID restrictions eased, I returned to the East. We went from talking every day to irregular communication. He blamed it on his job as the Archbishop’s secretary.
Even when I visited Lagos, he often cancelled our plans because of work. Still, I stayed.
By 2021, rumours started spreading that he was sleeping with other girls in my parish. One even showed me their chats.
Wait, what?
I confronted him about the rumours. He claimed it all happened before we started dating. I believed him and let it go because I’d idolised him. He knew all my insecurities and health struggles and made me feel safe.
That same year, my PCOS worsened, and doctors had to remove one ovary. They advised me to have kids soon. I couldn’t tell my family because we were still mourning my dad, but Solomon stood by me. He sent supportive messages and promised we’d marry by 2023.
That must’ve felt reassuring.
It did. He even said he didn’t mind my snoring, something I’d always been embarrassed about. But despite how comfortable he made me feel, he never took me out or acknowledged me publicly. He claimed he was protecting me because of his position. ghost me for weeks, then return with apologies. And I kept accepting him.
By 2024, I reminded him of his marriage promise. He met my family and even collected our wedding list but later said he wasn’t financially ready. He wanted to postpone the wedding till 2025. When I expressed worries based on my fertility issues, he insisted we could adopt if I couldn’t have kids.
That was when he dropped a bombshell: he wasn’t pressed about the issue since he had a 7-year-old child living with his parents all along.
Wow.
He said he’d kept it a secret to avoid scrutiny from the church. I was shocked and hurt that he’d hidden it for five years, but I forgave him. I just wanted to move forward.
By then, I’d finished my master’s and gotten a job in Ogun, so we only saw each other occasionally. Still, I believed our 2025 wedding was in sight.
But after his visit in September 2024, he ghosted again. This time, it was worse. He ignored my calls and messages for almost three months. When I finally reached him in December, he said he’d been depressed. He revealed that he’d slept with his ex and she claimed to be pregnant.
Oh my goodness.
I was shattered. He begged for patience while they confirmed the DNA and asked for space to “fix things.” We’d been together for six years, and I felt too invested to leave, so I agreed.
By February, he disappeared again. I came to Lagos hoping to see him, but couldn’t find him. He’d been transferred to a different deanery and moved to the Island. His sister acted cold and claimed she didn’t know me. Sometimes, he’d randomly pick up my calls, say he loved me, and hang up. Those months were a cycle of worry, anger, and confusion.
Then, two weeks ago, he reached out. He said he wanted to see me, and I told him I’d be in Lagos the next day. I was excited — it had been almost a year since we last saw each other.
When we finally met, he explained that his dad had been sick and shuttling between Lagos and the East made communication hard. He claimed he’d resolved things with his ex and only needed space to “ decongest” the negativity. I was annoyed but relieved we’d moved past it. He promised to visit again that Friday.
And did he visit?
No. Two days before the supposed visit, my younger sister called to ask if I was still dating Solomon because she’d seen his wedding photos on Facebook. I thought she was joking until I checked and realised he’d deleted his profile. She sent screenshots, and that was how I confirmed it was true.
I did some digging and found his wife’s page. He’d once stopped me from piercing my ears or fixing lashes and nails, yet his new wife had all of that. She’s pregnant too; most likely the ex he mentioned a while back. He proposed in February and married her on my birthday. I was furious and sent him the screenshots, but he never replied or picked up my calls.
When Friday came and he neither showed up nor reached out, it hit me that the relationship was over. It’s been a week since I found out he got married to someone else on my 30th birthday. I still don’t know how to piece my life back together after he wasted almost seven years of it. I’m too ashamed to open up to the few people who even knew about us.
I’m sorry you had to go through that. How have these experiences shaped your idea of love and relationships?
I’ve realised how much I settled because my self-esteem was so low that I thought no one else would ever love me. I saw more than enough signs, but ignored them until it was too late. Honestly, my grief is still very fresh, and I’m taking time to process everything and learn from it.
So, how would you say the streets are treating you? Rate it on a scale of 1-10
I’ll give it the barest minimum: 1/10. My new single life feels like a gut punch. I never imagined I’d be back here, and it’s still hard to accept my reality.
Cutting off a parent isn’t a decision anyone makes lightly. Sometimes, it’s a last resort after years of trying to fix something that refuses to get better. For some Nigerians, it’s about peace, choosing silence over the endless cycle of hurt, guilt and disappointment.
We asked five Nigerians to share why they went no contact with their parents. Here’s what they said.
“He didn’t even show up for my mother’s burial” — Tunde*, 32
For as long as Tunde can remember, his relationship with his father has been fractured. It wasn’t caused by one big fight, just a lifetime of absence, neglect and a distance that grew farther as the years went by.
“I’ve had a fractured relationship with my dad for as long as I can remember. My parents separated when I was two, and my mum raised me alone. He never showed up for school activities, never called to check on me, and never sent money. The few times I saw him were purely circumstantial— once when my parents were fighting for custody at the child welfare court, and twice at my step-siblings’ weddings. Each time, it was like meeting a distant relative. He’d nod when I greeted him, ask what I was doing with my life, and walk away.
Growing up, everyone around me made excuses for him. My aunties would say, “You have only one father,” and my uncles would remind me that “no matter what, he’s still your blood.” So, just to do the right thing, I tried to maintain contact. I’d call on his birthday, send him messages during festive periods, even text him on random days just to check in. But it was always one-sided. He never called first, never asked how I was doing. It felt like I was forcing a connection that didn’t exist.
When my mum died, I thought he’d at least reach out. She was the one who’d held things together, even when he didn’t deserve it. But he didn’t call or send a message. He didn’t even show up for the funeral. I found out later he’d heard the news and still chose not to come. That was the moment I decided I was done trying.
After the burial, I deleted his number, blocked him everywhere, and stopped asking questions about him. It’s been six years, and I haven’t heard from him. Sometimes, relatives still tell me to “take the high road” and call him, but I’ve taken the high road all my life. Now, I just want peace.
He’s still alive, but to me, he’s a stranger who happens to share my DNA. I used to think cutting him off would feel wrong, but it’s the calmest decision I’ve ever made.
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“My parents haven’t spoken to me since I became Muslim” — Idera*, 29
When Idera decided to convert to Islam, she didn’t expect her parents to take it as a betrayal. They’d both come from Muslim families themselves, so she assumed they’d understand. Instead, it became the reason they stopped talking to her.
“I haven’t been in touch with my parents since I converted from Christianity to Islam. It’s still strange to say that out loud because I never imagined religion would tear us apart the way it did.
Both my parents actually come from Muslim families, but they converted to Christianity before I was born. So, when I told them last year that I’d decided to become Muslim, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. I assumed they’d at least understand that faith is personal, that it was still the same God I was praying to. But they took it badly. Very badly.
My mum cried like someone had died. My dad went completely silent at first, then exploded. He accused me of betraying everything they stood for and warned me that I was “turning my back on salvation.” I tried to explain that my decision had nothing to do with rejecting them, but he refused to listen. He gave me an ultimatum to return to Christianity or stop calling him “Daddy.”
What followed was months of heated back-and-forth. My mum would call to beg me to “come back to Christ,” then my dad would snatch the phone and start yelling. I couldn’t take it anymore. Around that time, I relocated for work, and I thought maybe the distance would help everyone cool off. But instead, it made things worse.
They stopped calling completely. Whenever I called, it was the same conversation about religion. At some point, they even started sending family friends and church members to “talk sense into me.” I got tired. I just stopped picking up.
It’s been almost a year now. The last time I heard from them was in February, when they sent a long message telling me they were still praying for me to “return home.” I didn’t reply. I’m deeply hurt that they could so easily abandon their only daughter over religion.
I know Islam doesn’t permit cutting off one’s parents, and I think about that often. But for now, I’m choosing my peace of mind. When they’re ready to see me as their daughter again, maybe we’ll find our way back.
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“I realised my dad only kept me close because of what he could get” — Ifeanyi*, 35
For most of his life, Ifeanyi* tried to keep a relationship going with his dad even when it was clear he was the only one putting in the effort.
“My parents separated when I was little, but my dad and I still had a relationship. I’d spend holidays with him, visit whenever I could, and call often. He rarely called first, but I kept at it because I didn’t want to be like those people who don’t talk to their parents. My mum used to say, ‘He’s still your father,’ and the church preached forgiveness and honouring one’s parents, so I tried.
However, as I grew older, it became clear that our relationship was one-sided. He never took responsibility for anything, yet he always had demands. Anytime I visited, it was either that he needed money or wanted something done for him. I didn’t mind helping once in a while, but it got exhausting.
The breaking point came during my wedding. This man didn’t contribute a single naira. But he wanted to control everything — the clothes he’d wear, where he’d sit, how he’d be introduced. It was like he wanted all the glory without any of the work. I still tried to maintain peace because, well, he’s my father. But after the wedding, things became unbearable. Every call was about money or what he felt I owed him.
That was when it clicked that our relationship was never about love. It was about what he could get. I pulled back gradually until the relationship died a natural death. I stopped calling and stopped visiting. He hasn’t met any of my three kids, and honestly, I’m fine with that.
There was a time I’d feel guilty because of what the Bible says about honouring your parents, but peace of mind has to count for something. Maybe things will change in the future, but right now, we’re not in contact”
“My dad changed completely after he started a new family abroad” — Tonia*, 30
For Tonia*, going no contact with her dad wasn’t something she planned; it happened gradually, one disappointment at a time.
“My dad and mum were never really together in the typical sense. They had me when they were both still young, and by the time he relocated abroad, their relationship had already faded. So when I heard he’d gotten married over there, it wasn’t shocking. I just told myself, ‘As long as he still remembers he has a daughter in Nigeria, I’ll be fine.’
And for a while, everything was fine. He used to call often, send money, and ask about school. Anytime he came home, he’d visit, bring gifts and make sure I felt included. He might not have been physically present, but I still felt like I had a dad.
Things started changing about four years after he relocated. The calls became fewer, and sometimes when I called him, it was his wife who picked up. You could tell she didn’t like that he had a family here. Her tone was always sharp, and she’d say things like, ‘He’s not around,’ even when I could clearly hear him in the background.
At first, I brushed it off. I told myself he was probably trying to avoid drama. But it kept happening, and soon, even when he picked up, he sounded distant. Then came the day that broke me. I was in my final year and needed money for my project. I called him, expecting our usual small talk before I made my request. Instead, he snapped. He said, ‘You girls are doing all sorts of things for money these days, so don’t tell me you’re stranded.’
I couldn’t believe those words came from my father. I didn’t argue, just said ‘okay’ and ended the call. I didn’t reach out for a long time after that. When I finally did, he didn’t pick up. After a few more failed attempts, I stopped trying altogether.
That was in 2017. It’s been eight years now, and we haven’t spoken since. I heard he has two kids with his wife abroad, and I guess that’s where all his attention is. My mum doesn’t talk about him; I think she’s still hurt, too.
Sometimes, I wonder if we just drifted apart or if he truly chose his new family over me. Either way, just hope wherever he is, he’s happy even if I’m no longer part of his world.”
“My stepmum changed completely after I got married” — Funke*, 42
For as long as Funke can remember, her stepmother was more of a mother to her than anyone else. Her biological mum died when she was young, and it was her stepmum who raised her, cared for her, and filled that gap she thought could never be filled.
“My stepmum came into my life when I was about eight. From the very beginning, she treated me like her own child. I never felt the absence of my mum because she was kind, patient and always looking out for me. We had such a beautiful relationship that even my friends used to say they couldn’t tell she wasn’t my real mother.
For years, she was the person I ran to for advice, the one who helped me make sense of things. That’s why it shocked me how quickly everything changed after I got married.
It started with my wedding. She was unusually cold throughout the planning, but I thought maybe she was stressed. Then I noticed she was monitoring my dad’s spending and dictating what he could and couldn’t do. I didn’t understand it because my dad had always been generous, and she never acted like that before. Still, I brushed it off.
After the wedding, her attitude became worse. She stopped calling, stopped checking in, and when I gave birth to my first child, she refused to come for omugwo. She said she had a professional exam she was studying for, but even after that period passed, she still didn’t reach out. It hurt, but I tried to make excuses for her, hoping things would return to normal.
They never did. When my dad passed away a few years later, she completely withdrew. I tried to comfort her and keep the relationship going, but she didn’t want it. She stopped taking my calls, and even my step-siblings became distant. It felt like I lost my entire family in one swoop.
The last time we were all together was at my dad’s five-year remembrance, about seven years ago. Since then, nothing. At some point, I realised I was the only one trying to hold on to a bond that no longer existed. I decided to stop reaching out.
I didn’t make a formal announcement or send any angry message. I just quietly cut them off. I figured if they could live comfortably without me, I could do the same.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.