marriage | Page 4 of 20

Sex and marriage are often marketed as a forever-romantic combo, but what happens when sex leaves the equation and you no longer stain your partner’s body with tears of ecstasy for months, or even years? Is it still marriage if the bed runs cold?

From postpartum struggles and personal trauma to ageing bodies and emotional walls, these seven Nigerians open up about the longest dry spells they’ve faced in marriage and what those seasons taught them about intimacy, desire and everything in between.

“We stopped having sex in my 50s and I didn’t miss it” — *Grace, 82

When you’ve had seven kids, sex can start to feel less like fun and more like labour. Grace, an octogenarian with grandchildren and great-grandchildren, shares why she mentally checked out of sex decades before her husband died — and why she has no regrets about it.

“My husband has been late for nine years, but to be honest, our sex life ended long before that. The last time I let him touch me, I was in my late 50s. I just wasn’t interested anymore. What was the point after seven children? My body changed, my hormones changed, and it stopped being enjoyable. Sometimes, it even irritated me.

He didn’t take it well at all. The man was still very active and kept trying to initiate things. At some point, our grown children even called a family meeting on his behalf. Can you imagine? Grown adults asking their mother why she wasn’t “giving daddy his conjugal rights”. I was so embarrassed and annoyed. I told them in plain Yoruba: If your father wants to go outside, let him go. I won’t disturb him as long as he doesn’t come home with another wife or a child.

That was the agreement. He had his flings, and I had my peace. When he died, it wasn’t a sexual loss for me. I’d already grieved that part of our relationship decades earlier.”

“We didn’t have sex for a year because I didn’t trust her anymore” — *Bayo, 41

You can sleep in the same bed with someone and still feel miles apart. *Bayo recounts the betrayal that led to a one-year sexual shutdown in his marriage and what it took to reconnect beyond the sheets.

“Our longest dry spell was a full year. It wasn’t about health or lack of interest. It was pure resentment. My wife and I had back-to-back fights over something she hid from me — financial stuff. She took out a loan from a trusted person using my name, and I found out months later when she defaulted. It felt like a betrayal, and I shut down. I didn’t want to share my body with someone I couldn’t trust. We still lived in the same house, ate at the same table, even prayed together, but at night, I turned to the wall and kept to myself. I guess it’s easier for the sex to take a hit when you’ve had kids and have gone way past the “butterflies” in my tummy phase.

We were in counselling for a few months before things started improving. I didn’t even realise how much I’d missed the closeness until the first time we tried again. It was awkward, but also felt familiar. Almost like our bodies remembered each other. Obviously, I was doing lots of self action. That year taught me that sex in marriage isn’t just about pleasure. It’s deeply emotional. If the heart is blocked, the body hardly responds.”

“Boiling water spilled on me, it took two months to come back from that” — *Kenny, 38

Two months might not sound like a lot, but it feels like a lifetime when you’re used to being active.

“In 2021, I had a freak kitchen accident where hot water spilled directly on my privates. I still get chills thinking about it. The burns weren’t severe enough for surgery, but the pain? Intense. I couldn’t wear briefs comfortably for weeks, talk less of doing anything.

The physical recovery was one thing, but the psychological trauma was another. My confidence was gone. Even when I started healing, I couldn’t get it up properly; my brain just wouldn’t cooperate. My wife was incredibly patient. She never pressured me once. When we finally tried again, we took it really slow. It felt like I was learning my body all over again. Now we laugh about it sometimes, but it took everything in me not to sink into a depression during that time.”

“Everywhere was dry like desert” — *Gregory, 34

*Gregory didn’t anticipate how long the break would last after childbirth. But once the healing process started, his wife swung into action.

“The longest would be three to four months, and it was after my wife gave birth. She had a tear, so I just stayed clear. No sex, no touching everywhere dry like desert. Tears full my eyes, but what was the other option? I had to maintain. At first, I was just winging it. I think I resorted to masturbating by the third month, but it wasn’t a habit, just a one-off because it doesn’t compare to the real thing. Outside of that, I tried to focus on work and our newborn. A baby is a full-time job, so it helped me redirect the energy. However, I was back to self-pleasure again in a matter of weeks because I had to “let it out,” if you get my drift.

My wife initiated sex again after four months. If she hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have made any move because I wasn’t asking her daily if she had healed. But once she initiated it, we picked up the pace like we never stopped.”

[ad]

“I haven’t touched my husband since 2022” — *Adebola, 36

*Adebola’s husband relocated for greener pastures, but their sex life had to take a hit. Now, she’s left to battle her own urges in silence.

“The last time I slept with my husband was in 2022, just before he relocated. We tried to go as many rounds as possible in that last week, but I was already horny by the next one. It’s been extremely hard denying myself this pleasure, but I keep reminding myself it’s only for a while. He’s not there to play, he’s there to make our lives better. Once we’re reunited, all the pillow-hugging, tossing and turning on the bed, and ovulation madness will be water under the bridge.

We’ve tried phone play, but my husband is too old school. It’s almost like I’m forcing him. Even when I send him stuff, he just glosses over it and changes the topic. I think he’s super paranoid about phone activities. One thing I know for sure is that when we finally see each other, I just want to touch him again. I miss holding him, feeling him in my hands — especially his penis.”

“We went a full year without sex” — *Hariff, 29

Pregnancy came with physical and emotional changes that left *Hariff and his wife avoiding intimacy for months. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind too much.

“The longest we’ve gone without sex is about a year. It started when my wife was five months pregnant. She started spitting a lot and complained of constant discharges. She gets irritated easily, and all of that made sex disgusting for her. I’m also not a fan of seeing discharges. I know it’s natural, but pulling off a black or white pant and seeing stuff on it just kills the mood. And when she got pregnant, there was a lot of it.

So yeah, I was fine with us staying away from sex. But that didn’t mean there was no touching or foreplay. We just never got down to the main thing.

We picked up sex again about six months after she healed fully from childbirth. It felt a bit new again, but we adjusted in no time.”

“After my mum died, I didn’t want anyone touching me” — *Kemi, 28

Grief can make even the warmest touch feel intrusive. *Kemi opens up about how her mother’s death created a six-month wall between her and her husband, and how therapy helped her find her way back to intimacy.

“The longest I’ve gone is six months, right after my mother died in 2020. I don’t know what people mean when they say grief brings couples closer. For me, it shut everything down.

My mum was my best friend. Losing her so suddenly shattered me. My husband tried to be supportive, but nothing he did could reach me emotionally. He’d try to cuddle me at night, and I’d flinch. He’d touch my arm and I’d pull away. It wasn’t even about him; I just couldn’t stand any kind of intimacy. He never complained, but I could tell it hurt him. One night, he asked if I still found him attractive. I cried for hours after that. I eventually started therapy, and that’s what helped me find my way back to myself and him.”

READ THIS NEXT: 7 Married Nigerians on the Secrets They’ve Hidden From Their Spouses

*Jide, a 42-year-old Lagos transporter, thought nothing could hurt more than the accident that left him on crutches. That was until his ‘wife’ moved in with another man while he was still hospitalised. Now, after twelve years and a custody battle, he’s struggling to stay in touch with his kids and move on from the relationship.

This is Jide’s story as told to Mofiyinfoluwa

I met *Yemisi in 2009 through a mutual friend. I was a cobbler at the time, and she must have been about 21. We started as friends, but things moved fast, and she became the first woman I truly loved. When she got pregnant a year later, I helped her set up a baby care stall. We had a small family introduction and moved in together. That’s when I started seeing sides of her I never knew existed.

We used to fight a lot because Yemisi was too outgoing and loved to party, even when I was against it. I also hated that she couldn’t keep anything to herself. Her mother would hear about every little disagreement we had, and before I knew it, she’d show up to pack her daughter’s belongings. I’ve always believed misunderstandings are normal, but if we can’t even settle and move on, then what are we doing? Yemisi always had to be right; there would be no peace if I disagreed. One time, we were arguing and she grabbed my shirt. I told her to let go or I’d slap her, but before I finished the sentence, she slapped me.

Things got worse after she gave birth to our second child. That’s when friends—even my exes— started pulling me aside to say, “Your wife has become an ashewo,” or “She’s sleeping with so and so.” She lived with me as my wife, but still did all sorts with area boys.

At first, I didn’t want to believe it. Then came the day I gave her money to cook soup, only to catch her taking it to another man. I lost it. I poured the soup away and beat her out of frustration. Her mum rushed over, caused a scene, and took her away. But when she slapped me first in a past fight, that wasn’t a problem for them.

After some months apart, I begged for her forgiveness, and she returned with the children. I tried to be very loving to her — I cooked, washed her clothes, and helped out however I could. My friends mocked and called me a “woman wrapper”, but I did it because I believed love meant service. I never wanted to treat my wife like a slave. Still, she never respected me the way I respected her. I remember the night a close friend of mine got stranded and needed a place to sleep. Even though our room self-contained was spacious, Yemisi refused to let him in. The guy had to sleep in the stairway passage. A few days later, when her goods supplier came late at night, she told me to sleep outside.

I never once cheated on her. Yes, I had problems with alcohol and smoking, but sex wasn’t a big deal to me. This even affected our relationship because I didn’t realise she needed more sex than I was giving. Instead of sharing her concerns, she went to other men when she felt unsatisfied. I only found out how much sex meant to her when friends recommended some herbal mixtures that helped me get better. That was when she confessed that our sex life was the main reason she started sleeping around.

Of course, our improved sex didn’t stop her. She was getting more money from the men she was sleeping with than my cobbling job could provide. Soon after, she did the worst thing ever. In 2012, I had a terrible accident that left me bedridden for over a month. While I lay in the hospital fighting for my life, Yemisi packed her things and moved in with another man. Not once did she check on me.

Those were the darkest months of my life. I was depressed, broke, and looked like a madman. I drank Ogogoro all day, wore the same clothes for months, and begged her mum and sister to help me get her back. Then one day, her sister called me aside and told me, “Even if you had died, she won’t cry. Move on.” That was my wake-up call.

It took me nearly two years, but I picked myself up, quit smoking and saved money. Soon, I bought my first vehicle and became a transporter. When Yemisi noticed my upgrade, she came back begging. I forgave her, but deep down, things were not the same. I still harboured resentment towards her for abandoning me. We had our third child a year into reconciliation.

The final straw came in 2020 when I caught her red-handed, riding a man I knew. A man I considered a friend. I told her to pack out. She did, and when she left, she took everything: the TV, generator, even the kitchen cabinet.

Not long after, I heard she started dating an Alfa and used charm to collect nearly ₦2,000,000 from him before she abandoned him and moved to a married man who was funding her lifestyle. I should have known she couldn’t build a life with me. I was a struggling transporter.

It pains me that I barely see my children. She makes it difficult, and my job doesn’t give me time. I give them whatever they ask for when they call, but that’s all I can do. She has dragged me to two human rights courts. The first one favoured her. At the second, they checked my records and saw I’d sent almost ₦400k in under six months. When they asked me to commit to ₦100k monthly, I told them it was impossible as a transporter. We settled on ₦70k, but when I asked for weekend custody, she refused. The court finally ruled that if she wouldn’t let me see them, they couldn’t force me to pay.

Now, my only daughter is barely 13 and already lives with a man. I had to involve the police to scare her out of the place. I’m afraid she’s already turning out like her mother. A guilt I can’t explain has been eating me up lately.

I tried moving on by dating again, but it was a miss. She stole ₦300k from my cupboard and ran off to a cultist. I got some of the money back, but the experience scarred me. I’ve been single since then. These days, I work all day, eat and get drunk at roadside joints, and sometimes visit brothels when I feel lonely. I’ve lost hope in love. I believe Lagos Island women don’t want men who will love and caution them; they just want money and freedom.

I’m focused on working hard, healing slowly, and hoping that someday, someone will love me for real.

[ad]

*Tokini, 28, never thought marriage was in the cards for her. A childhood marked by loss and trauma convinced her it wasn’t worth the risk. But two years into a marriage where her husband rubs her feet, fills her water bottle every night and never lets her lift a finger, she’s terrified — not because the love is fading, but because she doesn’t know if she’ll ever find this kind of love again if she loses him.

This is a look into Tokini’s marriage diary.

I never saw myself getting married

I didn’t grow up dreaming of marriage. My mum died when I was young, and I watched my dad spiral into depression. It was a scary sight. I saw firsthand what it meant to lose a partner, and I didn’t want to feel that kind of pain. On top of that, I didn’t know what a typical family dynamic looked like. The few examples I saw around me felt off. Women in those marriages seemed like second-class citizens while their husbands were kings. I couldn’t picture myself in that kind of setup.

That changed when I joined a religious group. I started seeing married couples who actually looked like they enjoyed each other’s company. During prayer sessions, they’d hold hands. They had kids, but still called each other “babe” and “sweetheart.” They looked like best friends. I remember seeing a man I respected use his handkerchief to wipe his wife’s sweaty cleavage. It was such a tender moment, and I was mesmerised. It was the first time I thought, “Maybe marriage isn’t so bad. But what are the chances of finding a man like this?”

Eventually, I started dating and got married.

But I had to overcome a lot of trauma. I was molested as a child, first by a neighbour and later by my dad. He used to drink a lot after my mum died, and did things he wouldn’t even remember. That experience messed with how I saw my body. I didn’t feel like it was something to be protected — I had to protect it myself. But my husband was the first person who truly respected my body. He made me feel like I deserved care. He’s the one who first told me, “You need to cherish your body.”

Marriage has made me realise how spoilt I am

I’ve always been on the big side, so before marriage, I was used to eating just once a day, maybe snacking on biscuits when I felt hungry. Cooking wasn’t really part of my life.

Now I’m married, and the biggest surprise has been how much thought and planning go into food. If we’re going out tomorrow, I have to think of what we’ll eat before leaving. If we’re travelling, I need to plan light meals. The mental load is overwhelming.

My husband tries his best to lighten the load. When I complained about sweeping and cleaning, he got a cleaner. When I grumbled about laundry, he got a dry cleaner and eventually hired someone who does all the laundry. We also have someone who shops for food and preps it, like cleaning the vegetables.

Still, with five soups in the freezer, we’ll be stuck figuring out what to eat at night. I make suggestions and he goes, “Oh, I’ve had too much rice,” or “I’d have preferred beans and plantain.” That cycle can be exhausting.

But the truth is, I’ve become so spoilt in this marriage. I don’t cook every day, I don’t do laundry, I don’t clean, and I still find myself complaining. Sometimes I feel ungrateful. I think, “Some people will kill for this life.” But I just want a break. I want my husband to look at me one day and say, “You’re the love of my life. Don’t do anything for the next three days. I’ll serve you, massage your feet, just rest.” I don’t want to be the one bringing up eating out or what to cook. I want to be cared for — the way he’s always done — without asking.

Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

Sometimes I hurt my husband with my words, and I hate it

We had an argument once that made me question if I was cut out for marriage because I said a lot. That’s my problem: When I’m deeply hurt, I go all in with my words, trying to make the other person understand my pain. When their reaction isn’t as strong for me, I keep going; I keep driving home the point to make them see what they’ve done to me. I don’t do this with other people — with them, I choose my words carefully. But with my husband, I keep pushing and talking.

The problem with that is that I end up hurting my husband. The worst part is that he’s such a calm communicator. He never yells or lashes out. But I sometimes say so much that it hurts him, and then I have to apologise. That cycle has made me question if I was even ready for marriage.

It’s not that we don’t communicate well — we both do. But our communication is often laced with emotions. We try to keep things calm and avoid hurting each other, but honestly, the heated emotions are already present when we talk.

Take frustration, for example. I tend to get irritated easily. Sometimes, we’re heading out, and I just want him to open the car door. He needs to press a button for me to open it from my side, but he’ll be on the phone, chatting away, completely distracted.

Meanwhile, I’m just sitting there, waiting for him to press the button. By the time I say, “Please, can you open this door?” I’m already irritated. Then he gets upset, like, “Why’s she talking to me like that?” And suddenly, he’s acting up, and I’m annoyed too—because why is he even angry? Why can’t he just be sensitive to his wife’s needs? Maybe I sound entitled, or my husband spoils me too much.

[ad]

I don’t know who I’d be if I lost him

The thought of my husband dying terrifies me. I’m so aware of mortality because of how I grew up. And frankly, I’d rather die than watch him die. I can’t imagine meeting someone new or starting over. He’s done so much for me — and spoilt me so thoroughly — that I don’t know who else could match up.

He rubs my stomach during my periods, ensures I have warm water and socks, and checks that I’m cosy. He fills up my water bottle with cold water every night, reminds me to sleep on time, rest and do my skincare. I hate skincare, and he still makes sure I do it. He shaves me. He tells me I’m beautiful every day. Even when I haven’t made my hair, he gives me money for it and still says I look gorgeous.

I’ve never bought fuel since we got married. I don’t take out the trash. I don’t open the gate. He does everything. I make my own money, but I’m fully dependent on this man. I don’t ever want him to fall sick for just a minute. Where will I start if I ever lose him?

Marriage has grown me into a more confident version of myself

I’ve gained weight since I married, and we haven’t had kids yet. But my husband never makes me feel less than. He tells me I’m beautiful. He encourages me when I go on random diets, even though I never follow through. He builds me up.

Before him, I dated someone who constantly made comments about my body. He wrecked my self-esteem. But now? Even though I’m bigger, I feel more confident. I know my worth, and I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m not deserving of love and respect.

If I could talk to my unmarried self, I’d tell her to stop worrying so much. I used to magnify everything — if he said, “I’ll call you later,” I’d demand to know what time “later” was. If he missed the call, I’d bring it up and ask how he’d keep to his word in marriage.

I took everything seriously because I didn’t want to make a mistake with whoever I married. But I’d tell younger me to chill. He’s human. Mistakes don’t mean he doesn’t love you.

Now I understand him better. When he’s quiet during a disagreement, it’s not pride. It’s that he needs time to think and process. He’s not like me — I’m a force. I’m intense. He needs time to see my perspective. And that’s something I now appreciate deeply.

Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

Bimbo* (44) always thought she would marry just once in her life, but after her first husband and childhood best friend passed, she found herself remarrying again, and again, and again. Thereby bringing her total marriages to four.

This is Bimbo’s story as told to Itohan

My first marriage was to a man I still consider the love of my life. We were childhood friends, and people always joked that we would one day get married. Then, when I was 21 and he was 23, we eloped. When we returned, our parents were upset because we’d denied them the opportunity to have a huge wedding, but we were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The two years I had with him were the best of my life, but they were cut short by his death. He was so young and full of life, but God had other plans. I was distraught when I heard the news and even more disappointed by the ways people tried to console me. I was told I was lucky to still be young and without children, so I could easily remarry. Why that was something people felt comfortable saying to my face was beyond me, but it happened regardless.

After his death, I withdrew into myself. He had left everything he owned to me, and I suddenly had more money than a young woman my age should. My dad warned that it would make me a target for young men looking to take advantage, so he arranged for me to marry one of the young men he mentored. I was 25; he was 34. My dad felt the man had a good head on his shoulders. He was not wrong, but I’m a woman who values her freedom and the ability to have fun. I’m a passionate person, and it was the most passionless marriage I’d ever been in. Our sex life was horrible. He used to schedule sex for 8 p.m. twice a week, and it lasted all of 15-20 minutes on a good day. No foreplay, no passion, no pleasure. Just thrusting and ejaculating.

I remember once asking my dad if he could reduce my husband’s workload so he might have more time for me. That’s when I found out it was my husband constantly picking up extra work and handling business. My dad told me. I realised my father had done it on purpose. He’d always said I was a bit of a wild child, so this marriage was his way to calm me down. Once I realised that, I filed for a divorce. We’d been married for three years, but I knew I couldn’t spend another second in that marriage. One thing my father did get right was the prenuptial agreement. So all I lost was time, and a bit of my sanity. My money remained intact.

I met my third husband at a friend’s 30th birthday party. He was 32 and I was 29, and we hit it off almost immediately. The sexual chemistry was electric, and although I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I enjoyed his company. We travelled to several countries together, tried new cuisines and had fun. For the first time in years, I felt like I had something great going for me. I felt young again. We started dating a few months later, and when I got pregnant, we got married. It was a nice ceremony and I felt absolutely beautiful. It truly felt like one of the happiest moments of my life. My parents, friends and I thought this would be the one that stuck. We were so wrong.

My pregnancy was difficult. I was pregnant with twins, and they stressed me from the beginning to the end. I couldn’t enjoy many of the things I used to. Morning sickness, swollen feet, heartburn, body pains, etc. At one point in my second trimester, I was rushed to the hospital because I was bleeding. Thankfully, the babies and I were fine, but the whole experience took a toll on me physically and mentally. After I gave birth, I thought things would get better, but I was wrong.

The babies were born through a caesarean section and my body did not snap back as fast as I thought it would. I was stuck at home breastfeeding and cleaning up the babies I was miserable. I was battling postpartum depression, I thought about killing myself and my babies so many times, just so it could end. There was a time I found myself screaming at them as they cried. Our nanny found me on the floor, screaming at them my lungs out while the babies lay in their bassinet. In all of this pain and suffering, where was my husband? He was out. Suddenly, he became much busier than ever. I was left alone with the children and the nanny for days. I needed his help and support, but he was nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t pick up my calls or respond to messages. I was deeply hurt.

ALSO READ: What She Said: I Didn’t Know I Was Almost Six Months Pregnant

A year and a few months after I had the twins, I was slowly getting myself back, but I still wasn’t as active or interested in sex and the partying lifestyle I enjoyed. One night, while getting the twins ready for bed, I received a video from a friend. It was of my darling husband in a club, kissing and touching a woman who looked like she was still in university. That was the first time in a long time I thought of ending my life again. I was disappointed. When he came home a week later, I confronted him with the video. He blamed me for no longer being “fun” and said he had needs that had to be met. That night, I packed a few things, took the twins, and left.

The following week, I called my lawyer and filed for a divorce. It was the hardest marriage to dissolve because of the children and how long it had lasted, but with evidence of adultery, the court allowed me to end it. Custody was granted to me, with visitation rights for him, and he paid monthly for our upkeep.

By the time the twins turned seven, I filed for custody to be transferred to their father. I’d gotten a job that required constant international travel, and I didn’t feel I was providing a stable environment for children. Plus, my ex-husband had remarried and they had another child. I believed it was better for the twins to be with them. Luckily for me, the court agreed. At 38, I felt freer than I had in a decade. I decided to start living for myself and enjoying life. I saw my children when work allowed and sometimes took them on trips. Life was good. I was happy, but a bit lonely.

At 39, I decided to get a “sugar baby”. I was rich, I could afford it, and I wanted regular sex. I had always dated older men, I wanted something different. My friend introduced me to someone she knew. He was 30, smart, and the sex was great, and I was enjoying myself. A year or so later, he said he wanted to be in an actual relationship. I agreed. A year after that, he asked me to marry him. And so, at 41, I was getting married again. It was a small courthouse ceremony with a few friends as witnesses. My parents didn’t attend, and honestly, I don’t blame them.

After we got married, he became a househusband. He worked, but I was the breadwinner. He managed the staff and took care of the home. My children liked him, and it was nice to hand over “wife” duties, I’ve never been that type anyway. I was happy and content. That is, until I came home early from one of my trips and found him in the bed with another man. I dropped my bag from my hands, and that’s when they realised I was there.

My “husband” explained that he was a bisexual and the man he was having sex with was his boyfriend of over five years. Apparently, he only got into a relationship with me for money. He and his boyfriend were planning to relocate and start a new life together, but they couldn’t afford it on their own. After listening, I wish I could say I was angry, but I wasn’t.

I understood why they did it, I was just irritated he hadn’t told me from the start. I would have gone along with it from the very beginning. All the sneaking around was unnecessary and disrespectful. He said their end goal was marriage and a new life together. I called my lawyer and asked her to help them with the process. I also donated some money towards it, called it their wedding gift. Then we began the process of ending our marriage.

I’m 44 now, and I’ve officially been married four times. I have another sugar baby, but I’m not interested in having another husband. After reflecting on the life I have lived, I think marriage isn’t for me. Being single isn’t so bad. I love my children and get to spend time with some of my friends in their 40s. Life is good, and I’m content.

ALSO READ: I Called Off My Engagement Because of a Joke

Participate in our riddle callout for a chance to win ₦25k. This campaign is open only to Zikoko Daily newsletter subscribers and ends May 10, 2025!

[ad]

Nigerian weddings are usually a full-blown community affair, complete with family expectations, age-old customs, and plenty of unsolicited opinions. But what happens when young people flip the script and do things their own way?

We spoke to nine Nigerians who are ditching tradition and choosing what feels true to them.

Bride in a tuxedo, an unconventional wedding choice

“My mother will walk me down the aisle” — *Precious, 26

Some people dream of the moment their dad walks them down the aisle. For *Precious, that dream has always belonged to her mum.

“My parents separated a long time ago, and since then, my dad has been completely absent. He’s been a deadbeat, and my mum had to step up and play both roles — emotionally, financially and physically too. She raised me and my siblings single-handedly, and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my dad in the past ten years. The last time was at my university convocation. He showed up, acting like a proud father, even though my mother’s sweat funded everything.

Now that I’m in a committed relationship, I’ve been thinking a lot about my wedding day and how I want it to go. I know I can’t exactly stop my dad from attending, but he definitely won’t be the one walking me down the aisle. That honour belongs to my mum. She’s been both mother and father to me in the truest sense of the words.

When I brought it up, she hesitated because “people will talk”, and even suggested one of my uncles could do it instead. But those uncles barely know me. I’ll convince her to do it. The least I can do is let her walk me into the next chapter of my life.”

“I’ll personally refund my bride price” — *Amaka, 28

*Amaka grew up watching her mother endure marriage as a transaction. But the buck stops with her.

“Growing up, I watched my father use the bride price he paid as a weapon against my mother. He constantly reminded her of it, as if it gave him permission to treat her however he pleased. It was degrading, and I swore I would never let that happen to me.

Now, I’m engaged to a genuinely kind man, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve decided that I’ll personally refund my bride price after our wedding. I’ve mentioned it to him before, but we haven’t had a serious conversation yet, especially because our families are both traditional. The items on the list have already added up to ₦400,000 for my introduction alone. I expect the bride price itself will be somewhere between ₦300,000 and ₦500,000. I’m putting money aside for that. It’s a small price for my independence.”

“My siblings will not attend my wedding” — *Cecile, 24

For *Cecile, peace is more important than appearances. She’s known too much hostility from her half-siblings to pretend it’s all kumbaya on her big day. She shares:

“I’m my parents’ only child together. They both had children before meeting, so I have older half-siblings on both sides. But they’ve never really cared about me; honestly, the feeling is mutual.

What bothers me the most is how my dad’s children talk to my mum. They’ve never liked her, and they don’t hide it. I don’t want that kind of energy around me on one of the most important days of my life. Having all of them in one room feels like setting off an atomic bomb.

I already know my dad won’t be happy about it, but I’ve decided I’ll elope. I’ll have a private ceremony with the love of my life and tell everyone afterwards. It may not be traditional, but I’ll have my peace.”

“I’ll have a virtual wedding on Zoom or Google Meet” — *Yomi, 30

*Yomi’s biggest fear is having all eyes on him on his wedding day, Soo he’s doing it his way: online, low-key and on his terms.

“I have social anxiety and don’t do well in crowded spaces. I’ve always been more of a behind-the-scenes person, and being the centre of attention makes my anxiety spiral. Just imagining myself standing in front of a room full of people on my wedding day makes my chest tighten.

That’s why I’ve decided to have a virtual wedding. Whether it’s Zoom or Google Meet, I want a ceremony that feels safe and comfortable for me. If our families insist on a physical celebration, they can go ahead and organise it. But my partner and I will attend virtually from wherever we are.”

“My best friend is officiating my wedding” — *Chinonso, 32

*Chinonso doesn’t care much for religious clerics who are clueless about his life’s journey. For him, it’s more special to have a friend who’s seen it all pronounce him married. He shares:

“I’m marrying my dream woman in a few months, and I’ve decided I don’t want a pastor at my white wedding. My best friend will officiate it instead. My partner and I aren’t religious, and she fully supports the idea.

The only pushback is from my parents, who believe that without a pastor, the marriage won’t be spiritually recognised. I understand why they’d feel that way, but I honestly don’t care. It’s my wedding, and I want it to reflect my personal values.”

“I’m wearing a tux to my wedding” — *Ella, 29

*Ella doesn’t remember the last time she wore a dress, and her wedding day isn’t going to be an exception.

“Growing up, people always said I acted like a tomboy. I spent years trying to fit into their idea of what a girl should be. But now that I’m older, I no longer care about fitting into anyone’s box. I dress and live how I want.

I have a boyfriend, and we’re planning our wedding. But I honestly can’t remember the last time I wore a dress. I’m not about to start on one of the most important days of my life. I’ll be rocking an expensive tuxedo, and I don’t care if my parents lose their minds. I want to feel like myself on that day.”

“I’ll print out a banner with pictures of my guests” — *Ayana, 26

*Ayana’s not taking chances with gatecrashers. For her, a face-to-face screening is a must at her wedding ceremony.

“I hate how Nigerians feel entitled to crash weddings they weren’t invited to, especially when weddings are so expensive these days. I stopped trusting access cards after my cousin’s wedding. Despite having a strict guest list, the hall was jam-packed. We found out people were sharing their access cards with uninvited guests.

That experience taught me a lesson. For my wedding, I’ll print a large banner with pictures of every guest beside their names. You won’t even get the invite without submitting your picture. On the day, we’ll verify your face before you enter. People laugh when I say this, but I’m serious. I’m not feeding strangers on my big day.”

“I’m skipping all the traditional ceremonies” — Mustapha*, 28

*Mustapha knows what’s expected of him as a Yoruba Muslim son. But after years of feelings boxed in by cultural expectations, he’s calling the shots on his own terms.

“I come from a deeply traditional Yoruba Muslim family, but my fiancée and I are doing things differently. We’ve decided to skip the entire traditional ceremony. No introduction, no engagement, no traditional wedding.

Instead, we’re planning a simple, intimate beach wedding here in Nigeria with just close friends and a few loved ones. Our families have kicked against it and threatened not to show up. Honestly, that’s okay. We’ve made up our minds.”

“My husband and his friends must prostrate to me too” — *Toke, 23

For *Toke, the bride also deserves her own gesture of honour on such an important day.

“You know that tradition where the groom and his friends lie flat on the floor to beg the bride’s family to release her? I must flip that script.

After all the grovelling to my family, my husband and his boys must prostrate to me too. He’s not marrying my people, he’s marrying me. He should beg me to follow him to his house, too. It’s only fair.”

[ad]

In-law drama is one thing most Nigerians actively pray against. But sometimes, no matter how hard you try to choose peace, your in-laws will go out of their way to test you. While some people turn the other cheek, these five Nigerians chose violence — and made sure the in-laws who tried them would never forget it.

“I made my sister in law sleep in a cell” — *Joan, 40

In 2018, a friend from church wanted to start a kerosene business. My husband linked her up with his older sister, who was already in the business. She collected ₦5 million from my friend and kept posting her for nearly eight months. My husband—a respected deacon — was too scared to confront his sister, which made the whole thing even more irritating.

My friend was very understanding, but when she hinted that her husband wanted to involve the police, I didn’t wait. I closed my shop in Jos that day, lied to my husband that I was going to Lagos to restock, and boarded a night bus. By 5 a.m., I was at the police station. I decided to confront his sister at her house first to give her the benefit of the doubt. She dismissed me and said I should go and do my worst.

So I did. I signalled the police officers waiting outside to come in and arrest her. After spending one night in a cell, she miraculously found the money and paid my friend back. The family called meetings to insult me, but at least I was sleeping well at night.

“I held a knife to my father-in-law’s throat” — *Tope, 37

We had two daughters, and I wanted more children, but my husband said we shouldn’t, as we were too busy with work. I didn’t know he was having an affair. The woman eventually gave birth to a boy, and he tried to keep it a secret. I found out when his parents came to our house, called me a witch who blocked their son’s destiny, and told me to leave with my daughters so their grandson and his mother could take our place.

I was in so much shock. I didn’t even realise when I grabbed a knife and held it to my father-in-law’s throat. I told them to leave or I’d kill him. My husband nearly peed on himself. They all begged me and left. It cemented their belief that I was a witch, but at least they never tried me again.

“I sent thugs to her son’s wedding introduction”— *Stephen, 46

After my wife died of cancer, her sister started treating me like a personal ATM. Last year, she came crying that she’d been diagnosed with early-stage cancer and needed urgent surgery. She begged for financial assistance. Cancer is a soft spot for me, so I gave her the money, even though it was meant for my daughter’s master’s program abroad. Two months later, I found out it was all a lie. She used the money to plan her son’s introduction. She even sent me an invitation.

I didn’t attend. Instead, I sent a group of area boys to crash the event. And they did a beautiful job.

“I poisoned my sister-in-law so she would go home” — *Ifeoma, 27

I got married quite early. My husband and I have been together for nearly five years, and we’re delaying children while we save to japa. His sister refuses to understand that and won’t let me rest. I think she hates me because I’m Igbo and they’re Yoruba. She’s always whining about how I’m barren and have refused to give her brother children.

A few months ago, she came to visit and overstayed her welcome. A week passed, and she was still there, talking rubbish to my husband. I was worried she would brainwash my husband, so I took action.

I saw on YouTube that lactulose powder can induce diarrhoea. So I bought some and added it her food. It worked in less than a day. She pooped and vomited nonstop until we rushed her to the hospital. I felt really guilty about it, but the minute she got discharged, she packed her bags and left. I don’t think I have any regrets.

“I staged my husband’s arrest to get back my documents” — *Hauwa, 34

When my husband and I first got married, we were too broke to rent our own place, so we lived with his parents. I hated it, but anytime I complained, they reminded me I was from a wealthy family and should endure.

When my dad visited and saw the situation, he gave me money to buy a building and start a business. Since I was naive and in an unfamiliar city, I let my husband and in-laws handle the process.

Biggest mistake of my life. I opened a restaurant, and it did well. Then my husband and I got jobs in another city. His family convinced me to let them manage it and promised to send rent.

They never sent one naira. Every time I asked, they called me disrespectful.

Eventually, I grew tired of it and sold the property behind their backs. I only told my husband when it was time to hand over the documents, which were with his parents. He sided with them when they refused to release the papers. I knew I had to act fast, and that’s when I planned with my sister to stage my husband’s arrest. We make it look like the new owner had him arrested over the documents. One phone call from him at the station was all it took for his family to cough up the papers.

[ad]

Woman looking depressed because her Husband Has Multiple Children Outside Marriage.

*Ngozi (46) married her first love, *Innocent (47), in 2007, and from the moment they met, she believed they were soulmates. But over the years, what started as a fairy tale slowly unravelled into something entirely different.

This is Ngozi’s story, as told to Mofiyinfoluwa.

Innocent and I met in secondary school, and from the beginning, it felt like we were made for each other. Everyone knew us—the students, teachers, and even people in town. They would tease us when we walked hand in hand, but we didn’t care. We did everything together.

He was the only child of a petty trader, and even though they didn’t have much, that made me love him more. I understood what it felt like to grow up alone. I was my mother’s only child, and after she died, I moved in with my grandmother. My father and half-siblings were distant people I barely knew. So when Innocent came along, it felt like I had finally found home.

The first time he broke my heart was shortly after we finished secondary school. I found out he’d impregnated his mother’s salesgirl. He denied it over and over again, even after her family came to disgrace him publicly. It wasn’t until the baby came out looking like his photocopy that he finally admitted it was a “one-time mistake.”

I was devastated, but I took him back. I was so deeply in love, and believed him when he said it meant nothing. At the time, I was writing my JAMB exams and decided to choose a university in the west, far from him and our town in the east. Innnocent applied to a top-ranked university closer to home but couldn’t afford the fees, and he didn’t like the course he was offered. So, he stayed behind to help his mother’s business, while I went off to school.

Even though I was far away, I stayed faithful to Innocent. I sent him part of my pocket money. I’d lie about my school expenses just to squeeze money out and send it to him. Sometimes, I would travel down to visit him because they were struggling to eat.

This went on for about three years. Every year, he applied for Engineering, but they kept offering him Estate Management. By the time I got to 400-level, I was exhausted. Everyone, including his family and mine, begged him to accept the course and move on.

My friends couldn’t understand why I stayed with him. They pointed out that I was clearly ahead of him now and wasn’t gaining anything from the relationship. I had other suitors too, but I didn’t care. We had made a promise to stay faithful to each other, and in my heart, I still believed in that vow.

After I graduated and completed my NYSC in 2004, I moved back to the East — partly to pursue my master’s degree, but mostly to be close to Innocent. I took up a job as a teacher and waited patiently for him to finish school. When he finally did, we didn’t waste time. We got married in 2007, just like we had planned.

The early years of marriage weren’t easy, but we were hopeful. Estate management ultimately proved to be a blessing. Innocent is naturally persuasive and skilled with people, so things progressed quickly for him. Before long, he was handling properties across the country. We were building the fairytale life I’d always dreamed of.

Until it wasn’t.

I had just given birth to our first child two years after marriage, in 2009, when I started hearing whispers. People kept mentioning another child with another woman. I confronted him with evidence this time, and he broke down crying. He said it was a mistake. But what hurt even more was discovering that the child was about a year older than ours. It didn’t make sense to me. He was the one who insisted we wait until we were stable before trying for kids, so why didn’t that same logic apply? I was nursing a newborn and already exhausted from life. So I stayed.

And then, just like that, we became really wealthy. The kind of wealth I never even dreamed of. From the outside, everything looked perfect. But behind closed doors, I was battling fertility issues. We had agreed that our daughter shouldn’t grow up alone, and I desperately wanted to give her siblings. The doctors said stress might be a factor, so Innocent encouraged me to quit my job. We eventually turned to IVF, and after months of trying, I finally got pregnant with twin boys. I gave birth in December 2014.

I was still recovering from the delivery when someone came to congratulate me and said, “Wow. Your husband is a new father of triplets!” I laughed and corrected her. “No o, I had twins. Not triplets.” But she shook her head and said, “I didn’t make a mistake. He just had another son with a woman in town.”

That one broke me completely. I collapsed on the spot and became deeply depressed in the weeks and months that followed. I kept asking myself how this man could hurt me the same way, over and over again. But I now had three children, with no job, and had poured every part of myself into this marriage. He begged again, and I stayed again. But something inside me shut down.

People had always said that he married me out of guilt; this incident solidified my doubts. I became distant and emotionally numb. By then, he wasn’t even hiding it anymore. He openly paraded women all over the city. One day, I was so lost in thought that I left my car and walked for nearly two hours. I didn’t realise I had wandered to the outskirts of town until a stranger stopped me and asked if I was okay.

After that, everyone agreed I needed help. I didn’t argue — I needed the space. Innocent got us a house abroad, and I moved there with the kids. Despite everything Innocent had done, I missed him. I was still in love with him. A part of me kept hoping he’d walk through the door one day, ready to be the man I fell in love with. Could it be that money had changed him?

Then one random day, while scrolling through Instagram, I came across a birth vlog. It was a woman in London giving birth. And there he was — my husband — right beside her, holding her hand. I did some research and discovered that he had married her, too.

I collapsed. Again.

That was when I knew: I couldn’t keep living like this. But I also couldn’t leave. Not yet. I didn’t want to lose my children. I didn’t want to lose the life I had sacrificed everything for. So I made peace with my reality.

I never confronted him. What was the point? I already knew everything I needed to know. Now we’re still married, but not really together. We speak only when necessary. He visits and sends money. I do what I have to do, and it works for me.

I plan to wait until my children are grown. Until they’re strong and settled and don’t need me every day. Then maybe, when we’re old and grey, I’ll finally have the strength to leave him.

Also Read: My Husband Married Me Because God Promised Him A Virgin

[ad]

*Dewunmi (31) grew up fast and never expected life to hand him anything on a platter — not even marriage. In this week’s Marriage Diaries, he shares how responsibility shaped his idea of partnership, why boundaries matter, and why he believes love isn’t enough.

This is a look into Dewunmi’s marriage diary.

I’ve always seen marriage as work

My idea of marriage has changed many times throughout my life. As a teenager, I thought it was a romantic fantasy. You meet your person, fall in love, and everything becomes soft and happy forever. But that version of love didn’t survive adulthood.

By the time I was ready to marry, I’d already stopped seeing marriage as just companionship. I saw it as a skilled partnership — two people tackling life together, but with a clear structure. I don’t believe in 50:50. As a man, I believe you must take overall responsibility. Not because your partner is inferior, but because leadership brings stability. Still, that doesn’t mean you ignore her input. She’s your partner, not your subordinate.

This mindset didn’t just come from culture or religion. It came from experience. I had a tough childhood. I didn’t get the luxury of innocence. From a young age, I was caring for my siblings, taking charge of the house, even “parenting” my parents at times. So when marriage came, the idea of being responsible for someone else didn’t intimidate me. It just felt like a continuation of the life I already knew; only this time, the responsibility felt more focused, more intentional.

The only hesitation I had was about when to marry, not who. My family had strong opinions. But eventually, I had to shut out the noise and remind myself: these people won’t be in the marriage with me. They love me, sure,but they’re not the ones who’ll do the work. That clarity helped me make my decision.

No one warns you about the permanence of marriage

You think you understand commitment when you’re dating, but nothing prepares you for the permanence of marriage. Your spouse is always there — in your space, your plans, your day-to-day decisions. You talk every day. You plan everything together. There’s no break. And that’s not a complaint — it’s just a reality that people don’t talk about enough.

That permanence also applies to your partner’s flaws. When you’re dating, you can overlook certain traits and hope they’ll change with time. But marriage forces you to accept that some things won’t. You either learn to live with those things or you live in frustration.

In my case, I thought my wife was shy and would eventually open up. But she didn’t — because she isn’t shy, she’s introverted. I’m introverted, too, but she’s the real deal. It took marriage for me to realise this isn’t a phase. It’s who she is. And that’s okay. I don’t need her to become someone else. I just needed to adjust my expectations.

Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

Boundaries are everything

One of the earliest and most consistent sources of conflict in our marriage has been boundaries. I’m big on them. I believe every person, no matter how deeply in love or committed, should have personal standards that must be respected.

For me, it’s how I’m spoken to; how I’m approached; how certain lines shouldn’t be crossed — not because I’m difficult, but because comfort can breed carelessness. And I’ve seen it happen in other relationships, even in friendships. People start off respectful and careful, but once they get too comfortable, they begin to say things they shouldn’t, or act without regard.

I believe I’m an African man with reasonable expectations. I’m not asking for submission or blind obedience — I just expect that my dignity is protected, especially by the person I love. Unfortunately, insisting on these boundaries has led to arguments. But I’d rather fight for my peace than let resentment build over time.

Those moments taught me that being right isn’t always enough. You can be right and still say the right thing the wrong way. I now take time to cool off, think through what I want to say, and how I want to say it. It’s made communication easier. It’s made me easier.

Nobody tells you the sex will decline

One of the most surprising things about marriage is the way sex and romance naturally decline. I don’t know why more men don’t talk about it, but I think it’s one of those quiet secrets you don’t discover until you’re inside.

It’s not that you love your partner any less. It’s that life gets in the way. Children, responsibilities, bills. You’re not in a constant state of play or excitement. You’re in survival mode. Sometimes, you still find moments for romance and intimacy. But it’s not as frequent or spontaneous as it was at the start. And for many people, especially men who never hear these things discussed openly, it comes as a shock.

I still don’t know if our experience is the norm or if other couples have cracked the code to keeping the fire alive consistently. But I do know it’s something every couple has to confront in their own way. It’s not always about desire — sometimes it’s just about energy and bandwidth.

ALSO READ: The Wife Who Expected Her Marriage To Be A Romantic Comedy

I’ve recovered the happier version of myself

People often say marriage changes them. For me, it’s helped me recover a version of myself I thought I’d lost. I used to be angry and always frowning. But people who knew me as a kid said I was very cheerful. Somehow, marriage brought that version of me back.

I don’t feel like I’ve lost myself. If anything, I feel more settled. As the first child, I’d always carried the weight of being responsible for everyone. Now I feel like I only have to care for one person — and that’s been a relief.

[ad]

Don’t marry someone who loves you, marry someone who wants to stay married

If I could go back and advise my unmarried self, I’d say: never enter marriage expecting your partner to change. Ask yourself, “Can I live with them as they are right now?” If the answer is no, then don’t move forward. Change isn’t guaranteed. In fact, what you see is probably what you’ll get — permanently.

That’s also why I don’t believe love is enough. Love is real, but it’s emotional. It comes and goes. Some days, I feel deeply in love. Other days, we’re just running errands, checking off the life to-do list. And that’s fine. It doesn’t mean the marriage is broken. It means we’re human.

What sustains a marriage isn’t love. It’s commitment. It’s the shared understanding that you both chose this and want to keep choosing it. You have to marry someone who doesn’t just love you today, but wants to do the work of staying married tomorrow. Someone who understands that romance fades, but partnership is what keeps the house standing.

Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

In this story, Benita* (33) shares how her 12-year marriage to Richard* (40) came to be and how her marital journey has been marked by infidelity and endurance.

This is Benita’s story as told to Betty

I met my husband at a mountaintop church in 2012. I had gone there to pray for a husband because, at 20, I believed I was ready to settle down; I just hadn’t found the man I felt God made for me.

That February, I visited a mountain top for a five-day prayer retreat. Men and women were separated during morning and evening prayers, but in the afternoons, we mingled during the lunch break at the only cafeteria. It was during one of those lunch breaks that I met Richard*.

He was older, good-looking and very passionate about his Christianity. I was immediately drawn to him. Over the course of the retreat, he told me about his life and why he was there praying for a spouse. Richard was a youth pastor at one of the fast-growing Pentecostal churches springing up in Lagos. He had just ended a serious three-year-long relationship because, during marriage counselling, they found out he and his ex were both AS genotype. The split hurt him a lot, but he said God revealed in a dream that he’d be compensated with a virgin wife. That was why he had been visiting several mountain-top churches— to spiritually prepare himself for meeting this woman.

As soon as he said it, I got goosebumps. I was a virgin at the time. In my family, it’s taboo for a woman to have sex before marriage. For generations, the women in my family have married as virgins. Even the non-religious side of my extended family has rituals that punish women who lose their virginity before marriage. I shared this with Richard, and his surprise matched mine.

We both felt like we had found the person God wanted for us. He asked the prophet in charge of the church about my family, and after he confirmed our virginity norm, we began our courtship. Our genotype tests showed I was AA, so there were no barriers to our marriage.

By May 2013, we were married. On our wedding night, he confirmed that I was indeed a virgin. I got pregnant with our first child—a son— that night. His family also adored me because I fit the traditional wife mould. I did everything I could to integrate into his Igbo family, even though I’m Yoruba.

Things began to shift in 2016 after we had our second child. Richard got restless. He resigned from his youth pastor position and started making irreligious friends. They’d go out drinking and partying, while I stayed home to care for the kids. Soon enough, I found out he was cheating on me with club girls and prostitutes. They went on weekend staycations and hotel getaways. I was devastated.

I reported him to his family and tried to leave him, but they begged me to stay. I was actually moved by how his family supported me. Richard tried to defend himself by claiming that sex with me had become boring. He said I didn’t know any “wild styles” that made him enjoy intimacy, but he never mentioned this or tried to teach me anything new. Richard loved the different experiences with these girls, and I realised that was what he wanted all along.

I got pregnant again in 2020 and gave birth to our last child, another girl. After she arrived, he slowed down on the partying for a while. I thought he finally wanted to focus on his family, but the truth was, the economy had gotten bad, and he simply couldn’t afford that lifestyle anymore. I tried to leave again in 2021 because I couldn’t seem to get past the past infidelities, but his family convinced me not to. They said that if I stayed and kept my home, no one would have a reason to call me the problem. But if I left, people would say I abandoned my home and husband. So I stayed. A large part of me felt they were right.

[ad][/ad]

Richard started going to church again this year, and he hasn’t had any new girlfriends as far as I know. He spends more time with the kids and comes straight home after work.

Nothing about our sex life has changed for the better, though. It’s probably gotten worse. I still don’t know any “wild sex styles” and I refuse to watch porn because I think it’s a sin. Sex with him feels like a chore now; I only do it when he initiates it. I don’t feel the same connection as I did when we first got married. I’m praying to God to fix it, but even if He doesn’t, I’ve accepted it as my cross in marriage— and I’ll carry it.

If you enjoyed reading this, you’ll also enjoy: A Cleric Told Me My Mother Was a Witch. It Almost Ruined Us

*Dasola, 33, got married in 2020. She expected a smooth transition into a fairytale life with the man she loved. Four years in, she’s realising that love isn’t enough. Sacrifice, self-awareness, and compromise are the true foundations of a solid marriage.

This is a look into Dasola’s marriage diary.

Reality came a bit early

I always imagined marriage would be soft, picture-perfect, and easy — like the romcoms I grew up watching. The wife wakes up early, makes breakfast in a spotless kitchen, the kids come down beaming, and the husband kisses her before heading out. That image stayed with me for a long time.

But when I got married in 2020, reality came knocking fast. I still loved my husband just as much; that hadn’t changed. But I quickly learned that marriage isn’t just about two people. It’s about two families. And blending them — especially his — was something I hadn’t emotionally prepared for.

For our first Christmas together as a married couple, we traveled to spend the holidays with his family. They were warm and accommodating, but I still felt like an outsider. I wasn’t their daughter, sister or cousin. I was the new wife; pleasantly received, but not fully plugged in.

I realised I’d always have to celebrate special holidays with his family, which meant giving up the familiar traditions I’d built with mine. I still struggle with this sometimes. There are years when all I want is to be with my mum and siblings during the festive period, but marriage — and now, motherhood — have forced me to think beyond my desires.

Nobody warned me that I’d miss my mum this much

The first time I really questioned whether I was ready for marriage was just days after our wedding. I’d always been extremely close to my mum. She helped with the wedding preparations, and I was just super excited. But the moment I started packing my things to move into the house I’d now be calling “home,” it hit me. This was it. I was leaving everything behind.

During that first week, I cried almost every night. I couldn’t just decide to visit my family without telling someone first — not because my husband was controlling, but because marriage comes with an unspoken shift. You don’t just move your own way anymore; every decision, even the small ones, now includes someone else.

Eventually, my husband noticed how much I missed my family and how withdrawn I was. Maybe he could tell I was grieving something — my old life. He started driving us there to visit on weekends when he had free time. It helped, but it didn’t erase the internal shift I was going through. I wasn’t just learning to live with someone. I was learning to let go of the life I’d always known.

ALSO READ: I Dated a Man of God. It Was the Closest Thing to Hell

I wasn’t prepared for his libido, and how he preferred his “thank you”

One thing nobody prepared me for? Sex in marriage. I know people say communication is key, and we did talk about intimacy before marriage, but conversations can only go so far.

My husband has a higher libido than I do. He could go multiple rounds a week and still be ready. Me? I could go months without feeling the need, and I’d be fine. It didn’t mean I loved him less; it just wasn’t how I experienced connection.

In church, they always say things like, “Don’t deny your husband. I internalised a lot of that. But real life isn’t a sermon. There were moments I gave in out of obligation, which created quiet resentment I didn’t know how to name at the time. Eventually, we had to talk — not just once, but over and over — until we found a rhythm that respected both our needs.

Another area we clashed was gratitude. When he buys me a gift or does something special, I say “Thank you” and move on. I mean it; I just don’t dwell on it. But I noticed he’d wake up the next day a bit off. It took a while, but I realised he was raised in a household where appreciation wasn’t a one-time thing. He expected ongoing praise — like, keep thanking me for a few days so I know you really appreciate it. It sounded ridiculous at first, but when I understood where he was coming from, I started being more intentional. Now, when he does something for me, I make sure to circle back with more love and gratitude, not just in words but in small gestures.

I don’t like how I look anymore. It’s the hardest bit to admit

Marriage has changed how I see myself, especially physically. I’ve had two kids, and I honestly don’t like how I look anymore. My body feels like a version of myself I didn’t sign up for, and it’s hard to say that out loud without sounding ungrateful. I love being a mum. I love my kids. But I miss myself.

I used to have big career dreams, but those have taken a backseat. While my husband works a 9–5, I’ve had to take up business ventures that give me flexibility to manage the home and raise our kids. It wasn’t part of the plan — I wanted to be in corporate. But life shifted, and I adjusted. Some days, I feel like I’ve hit pause on the version of me I was supposed to become.

I don’t know how long this pause will last, but I want to believe there’s still time to become that version of myself. The one that’s not just “mummy” or “wife,” but a full woman again — with her own identity, not just roles to play.

[ad]

Love isn’t enough. Empathy is what holds us together

If I could tell my unmarried self anything, it’d be this: Marriage is overwhelming. There are truths your mother won’t tell you, things you’ll have to learn the hard way. If I had the chance, I’d have used my single years better and done more for myself. Because once marriage starts, your life isn’t just yours anymore.

One of my biggest compromises is putting my career on hold. It wasn’t easy, and it still isn’t. But I know it’s worth it when I see how present I am in my children’s lives and how much we’ve built together as a family. Still, it’s a choice that came with its own grief.

People think love will carry you through marriage, but love isn’t enough. There are days when what you feel isn’t love, it’s irritation, anger, even hate. But empathy helps you stay. When you see your partner not just as a spouse, but as a human being with flaws and struggles, it softens you. You forgive faster. You try harder.

And maybe that’s the real secret to staying married: not just love, but the daily decision to see each other as people first.

READ THIS NEXT: I Wanted Someone Like My Mum and Found Her

“We stopped having sex in my 50s and I didn’t miss it” — *Grace, 82

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

“We didn’t have sex for a year because I didn’t trust her anymore” — *Bayo, 41

“Boiling water spilled on me, it took two months to come back from that” — *Kenny, 38

“Everywhere was dry like desert” — *Gregory, 34

“I haven’t touched my husband since 2022” — *Adebola, 36

“We went a full year without sex” — *Hariff, 29

“After my mum died, I didn’t want anyone touching me” — *Kemi, 28

This is Jide’s story as told to Mofiyinfoluwa

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

I never saw myself getting married

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

Marriage has made me realise how spoilt I am

Sometimes I hurt my husband with my words, and I hate it

I don’t know who I’d be if I lost him

Marriage has grown me into a more confident version of myself

This is Bimbo’s story as told to Itohan

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

ALSO READ: What She Said: I Didn’t Know I Was Almost Six Months Pregnant

ALSO READ: I Called Off My Engagement Because of a Joke

“My mother will walk me down the aisle” — *Precious, 26

“I’ll personally refund my bride price” — *Amaka, 28

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

“My siblings will not attend my wedding” — *Cecile, 24

“I’ll have a virtual wedding on Zoom or Google Meet” — *Yomi, 30

“My best friend is officiating my wedding” — *Chinonso, 32

“I’m wearing a tux to my wedding” — *Ella, 29

“I’ll print out a banner with pictures of my guests” — *Ayana, 26

“I’m skipping all the traditional ceremonies” — Mustapha*, 28

“My husband and his friends must prostrate to me too” — *Toke, 23

“I made my sister in law sleep in a cell” — *Joan, 40

“I held a knife to my father-in-law’s throat” — *Tope, 37

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

“I sent thugs to her son’s wedding introduction”— *Stephen, 46

“I poisoned my sister-in-law so she would go home” — *Ifeoma, 27

“I staged my husband’s arrest to get back my documents” — *Hauwa, 34

This is Ngozi’s story, as told to Mofiyinfoluwa.

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

I’ve always seen marriage as work

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

No one warns you about the permanence of marriage

Boundaries are everything

Nobody tells you the sex will decline

I’ve recovered the happier version of myself

Don’t marry someone who loves you, marry someone who wants to stay married

This is Benita’s story as told to Betty

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

Reality came a bit early

Nobody warned me that I’d miss my mum this much

Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

I wasn’t prepared for his libido, and how he preferred his “thank you”

I don’t like how I look anymore. It’s the hardest bit to admit

Love isn’t enough. Empathy is what holds us together