• Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.


    Ani* (29) and Jessy* (32) met in 2019 at a beach in Lagos during a secondary school reunion party. But when Jessy impulsively proposed to Ani at a club in 2023, she turned him down because she needed him to take her more seriously.

    On this week’s Love Life, they talk about bonding over party culture, navigating Jessy’s impulsiveness, and whether you can build a stable life with someone who makes decisions on the fly.

    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Jessy: 2019, at a beach party in Lagos. It was my secondary school’s 10-year reunion. We’d hired out this section of the beach, set up games, drinks and food. I was excited because I hadn’t seen most of these people since we graduated, and it was nice catching up with everyone. I noticed Ani pretty early in the party. She was participating in all the games, taking shots with people, laughing, dancing, and just having a great time. I thought she was one of my old schoolmates that I’d somehow forgotten. So I walked up to her and said, “Hey, what class were you in? I feel like I should remember you.”

    Ani: I laughed and told him I didn’t go to his school. I was just there with my sister. He looked so confused for a second, like he was trying to reconcile how someone who didn’t go to the school could fit in so well. But yeah, that party was also my first memory of Jessy. The only difference is, I didn’t notice him until he walked up to me. We ended up talking for a while after that. 

    What did you guys talk about? 

    Jessy: About the party, about Lagos nightlife, about what we did for fun. She told me she loved going out, trying new places, and meeting new people, and I knew right away she was my kind of person. Before the party ended, I asked for her number. I told her I hosted parties regularly with my friends, and she seemed like the kind of person who’d enjoy them.

    Ani: I gave him my number because he seemed genuine. Some guys ask for your number just to shoot their shot, but he was actually inviting me to an event. Plus, I was always looking for new places to party, new crowds to meet. So I thought, why not?

    Right. Did you actually follow up after that?

    Jessy: Yeah, about two weeks later. I was planning another party with some friends, and I remembered Ani. I texted her the details and asked if she wanted to come. I wasn’t expecting her to say yes; you know how it is, people give you their number and then ghost you. But she responded almost immediately and said she’d be there.

    Ani: I was in my party phase at the time. Like, properly in it. I went out almost every weekend, sometimes during the week too. I loved the nightlife and the freedom of just letting loose. So when Jessy texted me about another party, I was in.

    What was that second party like?

    Ani: It was really fun. I brought some of my friends along, and we had a great time. But what stood out to me was how Jessy cared for us. He wasn’t just hosting, he was making sure everyone was good. He’d check in on people, make sure they had drinks, and introduce people to each other. He had this way of making you feel like you belonged, even if you’d just met him.

    Jessy: I just like creating good vibes. If I’m throwing a party, I want everyone to have a great time. What’s the point otherwise?

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    Fair enough. So did you stay in touch after the party?

    Jessy: We did. I’d hit her up whenever there was a party, a club night, a beach hangout, whatever. And she’d always come through. Sometimes she’d bring friends, sometimes she’d come alone. It became a thing. Like, if I was hosting something, Ani was going to be there.

    Ani: And he didn’t just invite me to parties. Sometimes we’d meet up during the week for drinks, or we’d go check out a new restaurant someone had recommended. It was casual. We were just two people who enjoyed each other’s company and liked going out.

    Hmmm. Did people assume you were dating?

    Ani: All the time. My sister  would ask, “So what’s going on with you and Jessy?” I’d tell her we were just friends, but I don’t think she believed me. I mean, we were always together, we had great chemistry, and we clearly enjoyed each other’s company. I get why she and other people thought there was more to it.

    Jessy: I never corrected anyone when they assumed we were together. Honestly, I kind of liked that people thought that. But at the time, I genuinely saw her as a friend. A really cool friend who I loved hanging out with, but still just a friend.

    So when did the relationship stop being platonic? 

    Jessy:  For me, it was gradual. Sometime in 2020, during the lockdown, things began to shift for me. We couldn’t go out anymore, so we’d just talk on the phone for hours. And I started realising I really enjoyed those conversations. We’d talk about our childhoods, dreams, what we wanted out of life, and random philosophical stuff. 

    I learned that Ani is incredibly driven. She was studying for ICAN, working, and still managing to have a social life. I was impressed by her discipline. I also learned that she’s very family-oriented. She talked a lot about her siblings, her parents, how important they were to her. That made me see her in a different light.

    Ani: Same. Lockdown forced us to connect on a different level. Before that, our friendship was mostly about going out and having fun. But when we couldn’t do that anymore, we had to actually talk and get to know each other beyond the party scene.

    However, I was actually seeing someone at the time. A guy who was based abroad. We’d been talking for a while, making plans for him to visit Nigeria, but something always came up. He’d say he was coming in December, then it would change to March, then June. After a while, I got tired of waiting. Meanwhile, Jessy was right there. He was making an effort and I started comparing the two of them, and Jessy won every time.

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    When did you make it official, Jessy?

    Jessy: February 2022. We’d been talking about it for a few weeks, making sure we were both on the same page about what we wanted. Then one day, I just asked her to be my girlfriend, and she said yes. That was it.

    Sweet. What were the early days of your relationship like?

    Ani: Really smooth. We already knew each other so well by that point. There was no awkward phase, no discovering deal-breakers we hadn’t known about. We just transitioned from friends to partners seamlessly.

    Jessy: The dynamic didn’t change much, honestly. We still went out together, still had fun, and talked for hours. The only difference was that now we were intentional about it. We were building something real and not acting on vibes.

    Ani: And we balanced each other well. I was studying for ICAN, which meant long hours of reading and practice. Jessy was working full-time in marketing, so he also had busy weeks. But we understood each other’s schedules. During the week, we’d focus on work and responsibilities. On weekends, we’d go out, unwind, and have fun. It worked. 

    My only issue was Jessy’s impulsiveness. 

    Tell me more. 

    Ani: I started noticing maybe three or four months into the relationship. Little things at first. He’d see something online and buy it immediately without checking if it was in the budget. He’d decide on a Wednesday that we should drive to Ibadan for the weekend and just expect me to drop everything. It was fun sometimes, but it also worried me. I’m the kind of person who plans everything. I budget, schedule, and think ahead. Jessy doesn’t operate like that at all.

    And I tried to talk to him. I’d say things like, “Babe, we need to plan these things. We can’t just wake up and decide to spend money we haven’t budgeted for.” And he’d promise to do better.  But then a week later, he’d do the same thing again. It started to feel like a pattern.

    Jessy: I know I’m impulsive. I’ve always been like that. If I don’t act on something immediately, I overthink it, and then I don’t do it at all. So I’ve learned to just go with my gut and figure things out as I go. I was trying, though. I know it didn’t always seem like it, but I was. It’s just hard for me to change something that’s so ingrained in who I am.

    Ani: The craziest one he pulled was in April 2023. We’d been together for over a year, and we’d talked about marriage a few times. Not in depth, but enough for me to know he was thinking about it seriously. One Saturday night, we were at a club with some friends. The music was loud, everyone was dancing, drinks were flowing. And then, out of nowhere, Jessy gets down on one knee in the middle of the dance floor.

    I looked at him kneeling there with the ring, and all I could think was, “Are you serious right now? You’re proposing to me in a club?” People around us started cheering, recording on their phones, and I just felt so disrespected. Like, this is supposed to be one of the most important moments of my life, and you’re turning it into a spectacle?

    Jessy: I genuinely thought she’d love it. She loves clubs, she loves energy, she loves attention. I thought it would be romantic to propose in a place that represented how we bonded and connected. But I was wrong. She turned me down and walked out of the club.

    Curious, how did you feel in that moment?

    Jessy: I wasn’t thinking straight. I went after her, feeling embarrassed and hurt. Everyone in the club had just watched me get rejected. When I caught up with her outside, she was already fuming. I tried to explain that I thought she’d like it, but she wasn’t hearing it. She said I’d disrespected her, that I’d made the whole thing about me and my impulsiveness instead of about us.

    She said that if I really wanted to marry her, I needed to put thought into it and plan properly. She also said I needed to show her that she was worth more than a spur-of-the-moment decision made in the middle of a party.

    Right. And how long did it take to recover from that?

    Jessy: Weeks. Maybe a month. Things were really tense between us. She was distant, while I was hurt and defensive. We weren’t communicating well, and I started wondering if I’d ruined everything. Eventually, I realised I needed to fix it. So I sat down and really thought about what she’d said, and I understood. She deserved better than what I’d given her.

    So did you plan another proposal?

    Jessy: Yeah. I took my time with it. I thought about what she’d like, what would be meaningful to her, what would show her that I was serious about this. In December of that same year, I proposed again. This time, it was just the two of us. Just me telling her why I loved her and why I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

    Ani: The second time was a lot better and felt intentional. He’d put thought into it. He’d planned it. And that’s all I wanted. So I said yes.

    Jessy: We got married in March 2024. We had a small ceremony with close family and friends. It was beautiful, intimate, exactly what we both wanted.

    Awwwn. How has marriage been so far?

    Ani: It’s been really good. We still go out together, we still party, and we still have fun. But we’ve also built a life together outside of that. We support each other’s careers, and we’re learning how to be partners in every sense of the word.

    But is Jessy’s impulsiveness still there?

    Ani: It is. And honestly, it still worries me. It’s always in the small things and the big things. Like when he woke up on a random Friday and decided we should drive to Ibadan for the weekend without checking our schedules. He once booked a flight to Abuja without telling me first. There’s the financial bit too: a new gadget, an expensive dinner, concert tickets. And sometimes, it’s in major decisions, like when he switched jobs without having a solid backup plan.

    Jessy: That worked out fine, though.

    Ani: It worked out because I pushed him to think it through. Because I made him sit down and plan what he’d do if things didn’t work out with the new job. Left to him, he would’ve just quit and figured it out as he went along. That’s rattling.

    I always remind him we’re not just two people dating anymore. We’re married and building a life together. Our personal decisions affect both of us. 

    Jessy: I hear her, and I’m trying to do better. I’ve gotten better at communicating with her before I make big decisions. I don’t just do things anymore without running them by her first. But the impulse is still there. I feel it all the time. I see something, and I want to just go for it. But now I pause, and I think about how it will affect us. I think that’s progress.

    Neat. What’s the best thing about being married to each other?

    Jessy: Ani gets me. She understands my need for fun and excitement, but she also grounds me when I need it. She’s my balance. And she’s incredibly supportive; when I wanted to switch jobs, she didn’t just criticise me. She helped me figure out a plan and encouraged me throughout the process. That means everything.

    Ani: He makes life exciting. Before I met him, I was fun, but I was also kind of stuck in a routine. Jessy showed me how to live more freely, how to take risks, how to enjoy the moment. He also makes me laugh constantly, which is so important because life gets sad. And when things get serious, he shows up. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying. 

    Rooting for you guys. How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1-10?

    Jessy: An 8. We’re solid, but we’re also still figuring out how to navigate our differences. I think we’ll get to a 10 as we keep growing.

    Ani: I’d also say 8. We’re in a good place, but there’s room for improvement. I need him to be more intentional with his decisions, and he needs me to loosen up a bit and trust him more. If we can find that balance, we’ll be unstoppable.

     *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.


    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

  • Faith* (19) grew up with parents locked in a tumultuous marriage. Years of constant fights and her mother’s unkind words have worn her down.

    While she knows she can’t keep accepting the insults and emotional abuse, she’s still unsure what the next phase of their relationship will look like.

    This is Faith’s story, as told to Betty:

    I was seven the day my mum beat me so badly that my dad had to step in.

    I don’t even remember what I did wrong. I just remember the shouting. I remember my dad yelling that she’d gone too far, and my mum screaming back that he had no right to correct her. What started as a fight over me quickly turned physical. By the end of it, my mum had broken a wrist, and my dad walked away with bruises.

    Later that day, I went to check on her.

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    I was scared and worried about her injury, but the moment I got close, she pushed me away. She looked at me and said I was the reason her marriage was falling apart. That everything wrong between her and my dad started with me.

    I was seven, yet I believed her.

    As far back as I can remember, my parents’ marriage has had problems. Growing up, I never gave it much thought. Their fights were frequent and distracting, and I learned to get used to them.

    My dad is a warm and accommodating person. He’s not perfect, but his calm nature made it easy for me to be close to him. My mum and I, on the other hand, never had that kind of relationship. Even my earliest memories of her are tainted by the resentment and bitterness that she took out on my brother and me because of her troubled marriage.

    It wasn’t a one-off occurrence; as I grew older, it got worse. I quickly learned how to keep my head down and stay out of her way. Still, no matter how hard I tried or how careful I was, our relationship worsened. 

    Things escalated in 2021. 

    My dad was a government worker who worked out of state. During the week, he stayed in Ogun*, then returned to Lagos* on weekends.  That year, he lost over ₦500,000 to a bad business deal. It was a terrible time for it to happen. My older brother had just gained university admission, and my parents needed the money.

    My mum never forgave my dad for getting scammed. 

    They fought constantly over the loss, and this time, the arguments were uglier. They said things to each other that I don’t think either of them can take back.  It got so bad that my mum walked away from the marriage. My dad moved out of the house, leaving only my older brother, my mum, and me. 

    It was a big adjustment to make. My dad’s personality acted as a buffer for my mum’s irritability. Leaving her with us meant she could be as resentful and abusive as she chose without caution. 

    Not long after, my older brother also left for university.

    With my brother and dad gone, my mum took out everything on me. I became the only person left for her to direct her resentment toward. She’d say the most hurtful things. She said  I was the reason for most of the quarrels she had with my dad. She said I was spoilt and ‘useless like my father’. Once, during an argument,  she told me she wished the abortion pill she took had worked so she never had me. It broke my spirit. She was supposed to be the person I felt safest with, but she caused me so much pain. 

    I didn’t have anyone to turn to, and I started crying myself to sleep every night.

    Since my dad left, my mum has also tried to cut him out of my life completely. She insists that if she doesn’t want him anymore, neither should I. But I love my dad, so we’ve been meeting behind her back. 

    I enjoy learning about what’s happening in his life. He has his own place in town now and has even started seeing someone new. I’m not sure how I feel about it, I only know that it feels good to be around him again.

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    My mum is so adamant about cutting him off that she won’t even accept the upkeep money he sends.  She calls it ‘evil money’. Instead, my dad sends it to my older brother, and that’s the only way I get financial support from him at all. 

    The last few years have drained me mentally and emotionally.

    I know my mum’s behaviour isn’t acceptable. I know her actions have created a distance between her and the rest of our family. But even with all of that, I don’t know if I have it in me to cut her off. I still feel attached to her even though she’s unkind to me. 

    I want to break free and escape her constant emotional abuse, but I’m not ready yet. For now, I’m just going to wait and see where life takes us.


    READ ALSO: Sunken Ships: I Refuse To Cook Another Meal


  • After meeting Jide* at a basketball game, Bisi*(25)  knew she had feelings for him. But what started as a cute campus romance slowly deteriorated into a relationship built on secrecy, religious guilt, and emotional manipulation. 

    In this story, Bisi shares how she became entangled with Jide, and how it took distance, time, and hindsight for her to finally understand what she was lucky to escape.

    How it all started

    I met Jide in 2019 at my school’s stadium. I’d gone there with a few friends to watch a basketball match. After the games ended, people stayed back, and it turned into a small party. 

    One of my female friends already knew Jide, so she introduced us. We started talking casually about school and places we’d lived. He mentioned he attended my primary school in Lagos*, though only briefly. At the time, it felt like an insane coincidence. Looking back, I don’t think it was true.

    He said he had moved to Ibadan* to live with his grandparents, but he didn’t talk much about his family or his religion, and I didn’t press for details. We exchanged numbers, and that same night, we started texting.

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    I usually had night classes, and because of that, we saw each other often. He didn’t stay on campus, but he’d come over after my classes and sometimes stay the night. I eventually started going to his place too. I realised early on I liked him, so letting him into my life felt easy.

    The relationship

    About a month in, Jide asked if I had a boyfriend. I didn’t. My previous relationship ended after the guy moved abroad. I didn’t like him that much, so there wasn’t any significant heartbreak baggage. I wanted to give dating another shot, so I said yes when Jide asked me out.

    What started as something casual quickly turned serious. He insisted we define the relationship, even though we’d known each other for barely a month. I hesitated, but he stayed persistent, and I fell. It didn’t help that he was charming, fine, and attentive. We kept the relationship lowkey. Only a few close friends on both sides knew. Jide often talked about how girls liked him and threw themselves at him, including the same girl who had introduced us. He didn’t want to take any chances.

    At first, everything felt sweet. We saw each other almost every week, spent long hours together, and enjoyed each other’s company. In hindsight, that constant reminder of how desirable he was should have been a red flag, but at the time, I brushed it off.

    Our first major issue came a few weeks later when I bought tickets for us to attend a school play together. We had discussed it beforehand, so I assumed it was settled. On the day of the play, he went silent and was unreachable.

    When he finally responded the next day, he claimed he had to rush to church. That was when he casually mentioned that he was a Jehovah’s Witness. The revelation caught me off guard. I asked why he hadn’t mentioned it earlier, and he explained that Jehovah’s Witnesses aren’t allowed to date people outside their faith. That meant he technically wasn’t even supposed to be with me.

    At first, I didn’t believe him. I went online, researched it, and fell into a rabbit hole. That was when I realised he wasn’t lying. Their belief system differed sharply from what I was used to, and dating outside the church was forbidden.

    I apologised for doubting him, and that moment changed the dynamic of our relationship. From then on, he constantly framed himself as someone “breaking the rules” for me, like I was the reason he was constantly at war with his conscience.

    When COVID hit in early 2020, we became long-distance. At first, we talked every day. Then communication slowly declined. Calls stopped, replies became shorter, and sometimes he disappeared completely.

    Once, he stayed offline for almost two days. I got worried and kept trying to reach him. When he finally responded, he told me an elaborate story about injuring his hand with a mirror, fainting, and ending up in the hospital. I immediately apologised for being insensitive.

    I tried everything to revive the connection after that, but nothing worked. Each time he disappeared and resurfaced, he always had a new excuse.

    In June 2020, he told me he was getting baptised. He explained that baptism meant full commitment to the church. He also said he had confided in a mentor about our relationship, who advised him to end things because I wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness.

    That conversation broke me. I deleted his number to protect myself from the heartbreak, but I was visibly affected. My mum and friends knew something was wrong, but I didn’t tell them anything. I cried constantly and tried to distract myself by learning how to sew.

    Getting back together

    A month after the breakup, Jide texted again. He said he couldn’t hold it in anymore and just wanted to check on me. We started talking again as friends, until he suggested getting back together. He said we had to pretend we weren’t dating so his conscience wouldn’t bother him. Against my better judgment, I agreed. That was when things got worse.

    Once, he asked me to send nude photos. When I refused, he got angry and told me I wasn’t the only girl he was talking to. His words shocked me. I told him never to use other women’s interest in him as a threat. Before we resolved that fight, I noticed a coursemate had started posting his pictures on her status. When I confronted him, he explained it away, claiming he was just being kind and she was using that opportunity to throw herself at him.

    When school finally resumed after the COVID break, Jide started acting increasingly strange. He grew inconsistent, avoided plans, and constantly locked his phone. Something he never did before. He spent a lot of time with another girl in my class, Sarah*. He insisted nothing was happening and said he was only mentoring her.

    A few weeks later, at a birthday gathering with Sarah, I saw a sexually suggestive photo of him on her phone. He had sent the same photo to me privately. That moment confirmed he’d been playing me the entire time.

    The next time we hung out, I went through his phone and checked his messages. I saw how he texted Sarah, giving her just enough attention to keep her interested without committing to anything. When I confronted him, he admitted he had kissed her once but insisted nothing else had happened. I didn’t know what to believe. My feelings clouded my judgment, but I knew his actions hurt me, and I wanted out. After that, I stopped believing anything he said.

    Not long after, during our last time together, I stayed over at his place.  I told him clearly that I didn’t want to be touched and I wasn’t in the mood, but he ignored me and tried to force himself on me. When he saw blood, he stopped and started apologising.

    I didn’t know how to process what had happened, so I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even know what to call it. He apologised repeatedly, and somehow, we kept talking. I don’t know why I didn’t cut him off then, but something inside me was already broken.

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    The aftermath

    Soon after, he grew cold and distant, avoiding me out of his own guilt. When I confronted him, he said he was “just tired” and wanted to end things. Later, our mutual friends told me he framed the breakup as a moral decision. He claimed his religious conscience forced him to leave because I wouldn’t let go otherwise. I couldn’t believe it.

    After we broke up, I found out he had already moved on to four other women, referring to one as his girlfriend. He lied to them, saying we had broken up long before and made sure we never crossed paths in school. He told them the same story he told me: that he only showed me kindness and that I was throwing myself at him. After I told a friend everything, she got so upset on my behalf that she gathered the other girls, and we all confronted Jide together. When we asked him to show us the messages he sent each of us, he claimed his phone had been formatted. The audacity was crazy.

    Looking back, the lies, exaggerations, and manipulation were always there; I don’t know why I indulged him for so long. But that confrontation allowed the last scales to fall off my eyes, and I cut him off completely.

    He had a case with the school and struggled to graduate that year. I reached out once to check on him, but in his usual fashion, he told me lies and details that didn’t add up, so I just left him to his devices. Someone that untruthful is dangerous, and I’m glad he’s no longer in my life.


    READ NEXT: Na Me F—Up? I Used ChatGPT to Manage My Relationship


  • 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?

    My wife, Rhoda, and I have been together for six years and married for four.

    How did you meet?

    Through a mutual friend. I needed a tailor to sew some outfits for a family event, and I remembered my friend who always looked sharp in native attire. So, I asked for his tailor’s details, and it turned out to be Rhoda. 

    The first thing I noticed was how pretty she was. Also, she seemed really hardworking. I went to her studio to give her the materials, and the place was filled with apprentices, with customers dropping in at intervals. I love seeing young people do really good work, and besides her beauty, that was another thing I admired about Rhoda. 

    I didn’t fall in love on the spot, but there was definitely fascination at first sight. Even when she delayed my outfits and gave multiple excuses like Nigerian tailors usually do, I didn’t get angry (laughs). 

    So, how did you move from a working relationship to a romantic one?

    After I got my outfits, I kept chatting her up at intervals. At first, she wasn’t the most responsive. But she must’ve noticed I was trying to get close because she eventually started responding regularly. 

    We talked for almost a month before we went on our first date at a restaurant I’d been meaning to check out. I spent about ₦35k on food and transportation for that date. That’s where I popped the question: Will you be my girlfriend? She said yes.

    That’s sweet. What were your finances like at the time?

    I’d just gotten my first official job, earning ₦100k/month and squatting with my brother to save on rent expenses. 

    Rhoda and I didn’t really talk about each other’s finances while we were dating, but I’m sure she made more money than I did. Her business was quite successful, and she even bailed me out with the odd ₦10k once in a while when I went broke before salary day. 

    Also, after we got engaged, she often visited me at my brother’s house to cook for me out of her own pocket. So, while we didn’t actually sit down to track how much either of us was making, we had this unspoken agreement that we’d do nice things for each other whenever we had money. For instance, Rhoda hasn’t paid for internet ever since we got together, because I always buy her data. She also buys me stuff, so it’s vice versa.

    The first time we made a specific effort to discuss our expenses was during our 2021 wedding planning. 

    What did you both agree on?

    We agreed that it wasn’t realistic for me to handle all the expenses. I think my salary at the time was just under ₦200k/month, with a few side hustles bringing in extra money here and there. 

    So, we agreed that I’d handle bills like the hall and photography, while Rhoda would handle the outfits and her makeup. Our parents chipped in to help with food, hall decoration and other small expenses. It wasn’t a big over-the-top wedding. We just did what we could afford. I’m not sure our total expenses reached ₦2m.

    What’s the financial dynamic like now that you’re married? Do you still split bills?

    Yes, we split bills. However, I can’t say we’ve settled on an approach that works for us. I think this is because we didn’t clearly share our financial expectations with each other before marriage.

    I believe that my money is our money, and my wife’s money should be ours too. When one person brings out money to pay house rent or buy food, it’s not a case of “I paid the rent,” it’s all our money. So whether it comes from my wife or me, we should use it together for the good of our home.

    However, Rhoda can be particular about her money. She believes I should take on the bulk of the expenses, so whenever she has to pay for something, she complains or acts like she’s shouldering my responsibility.

    It’s strange because she didn’t give me this impression of her when we were dating. Or maybe I didn’t notice because we didn’t have shared expenses. 

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    Hmm. Does this cause friction between the two of you?

    At first, we fought a lot about it. I’m a salary earner, so it’s inevitable that I’ll be broke before salary day. 

    So, what usually happened was that I’d spend all my money on transportation and household expenses. When it finished, I’d ask her to support my transportation and pick up the rest of the bills.

    I didn’t know she found that uncomfortable. To her, it was as if I was forcing her into a breadwinner role and collecting her money. So, she’d complain about it, and that didn’t go down well with me. It felt like she was saying she didn’t want to contribute at all. As a result, we fought a lot about money in the first two to three years of our marriage. We even saw counsellors in church.

    We’re better now, but it’s not necessarily because Rhoda has changed; I’m just learning to live with it. She now covers most of the food expenses, while I handle the rest. Despite that, she often complains about how expensive things have become, but I just try to ignore her. Sometimes, I support the food expenses. Other times, I simply tell her to manage what we have. If there’s no money, we can drink garri.

    Do you both know what the other earns now?

    My wife knows how much I earn. She also knows that I regularly take on side hustles to cover expenses, but we don’t really discuss how much I earn from side gigs because the amount is not a constant figure.

    My wife doesn’t work a salaried job, and I don’t track everything that enters her account, so I can’t say this exact figure is her monthly income. However, since we’ve been taking our money issues to counsellors, she’s been trying to be open about her income. She can just say, “A client paid me ₦50k today, so I used it to buy chicken” or something like that.  

    I still think she isn’t pulling her weight, though. I mean, she helps, but I don’t think she’s contributing fairly. I work multiple jobs to earn around ₦600k monthly, but we’re not living a good life. It’s even more difficult because we have a child. I believe we’d be more comfortable if my wife were more open to pooling resources, but raising matters like this often leads to long talk, so I just let it be. 

    Interesting. Do you both have safety nets?

    It’s mostly for rent. Our rent costs ₦800k/year, and I save ₦50k monthly, while Rhoda pitches in whenever she has extra money to make up the full amount. I also have a different ₦50k/month savings for emergencies. I have a little under ₦800k in the emergency fund.

    Over the years, we’ve had to take loans for major projects. For instance, in 2022, we took a ₦1m loan to set up our solar electricity system and inverter. I don’t think I’ll do that again anytime soon. Since I couldn’t manage to save and repay the loan at the same time, I asked Rhoda to fund part of the monthly repayment — we were paying around ₦100k/month, so she was bringing ₦65k. I know the complaints I got from her during that period. It’s like, you’re also enjoying this thing, but you want me to carry all or most of the financial burden because I’m the man. That’s not realistic. 

    I just hope things will continue to improve and we’ll understand each other better as we spend more time together.

    How do dates and gifts work in your relationship?

    Dates are usually limited to birthdays and anniversaries. If it’s my birthday, my wife takes me out and handles the bills and vice versa. I usually handle the bills for anniversary dates, but we buy each other gifts. For our last anniversary, Rhoda bought me a pair of shoes, and I bought her a jewellery set for ₦20k.

    What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

    I’d just like us to be a true unit when it comes to finances one day. I think it’s only then that we can have big dreams, such as owning our own house or relocating in the future.

    Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.


    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: He Tries His Best, but I Often Feel Financially Stressed

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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.


    Bimi* (28) has spent the last few years navigating complicated relationships, from a long-term partnership that left behind a close friendship, to dating someone who hid a major part of his past and struggled to accept her best friend.

    In this episode of On the Streets, she talks about her dating experiences and how they’ve changed her perspective on love.

    What’s your relationship status, and how do you feel about it?

    I’m single and free. I’ve reached a point where I know I can’t be with anyone who feels threatened by my friendships or my independence. I’ve compromised a lot in the past, and I’m not willing to settle anymore.

    What led you to that place? Walk me through your dating history.

    My first serious relationship started in secondary school and lasted into university. We ended things because distance became an issue when he moved abroad for school. After that, I didn’t pursue anything serious until 2018.

    That year, I met Kola* at my faculty’s final-year dinner. We danced together and shared a ride home, and from there, we started talking constantly. My feelings for him grew quickly. I remember feeling sad that we hadn’t crossed paths earlier, but he was convinced we could make things work.

    We got into a long-distance relationship shortly after school. He lived in another state, so we didn’t see each other often. And then COVID happened, which made things worse. Our communication was inconsistent. We could go days without talking, and whenever I complained, he always had an excuse. At the time, I didn’t understand what healthy communication in a relationship looked like, so I tolerated it.

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    One thing I’m grateful for from that relationship is that I met George*, who’s now my best friend. George was a close friend of Kola, and by 2019, he started helping him deliver things to me since we lived in the same city. Over time, George and I grew closer. We clicked easily because we have very similar personalities.

    Hmm. How did Kola feel about your closeness with George?

    He was surprisingly cool about it. He understood that it was purely platonic, and George was also in a relationship. At some point, we even formed a friend group. But that dynamic eventually ended the relationship.

    Towards the end of 2020, George found out that Kola was seeing someone else where he lived. He told me because he felt I deserved to know. When I confronted Kola, he became extremely upset, not just about being exposed, but because George told me. Instead of taking responsibility, he insinuated that George was only eager to make the revelation because we had something romantic going on.

    That was the end for me. When I broke up with him, he cut off both George and me. Ironically, that situation strengthened  my friendship with George.

    Did anything ever happen between you and George?

    I developed a slight crush on him, but it faded within weeks. He had a girlfriend, and I was emotionally vulnerable at the time, so I knew not to read too much into it. I made a conscious decision to keep things platonic, and I’m glad I did. George has always had my back, and that mattered more to me than anything romantic.

    I see. Did you get into any relationships after that?

    In 2023, I met Adam* through a WhatsApp crypto trading group. The group held a physical meet-and-greet in December, and I noticed him immediately. He looked very attractive. He walked up to me and joked about my stares, which was awkward but funny. We sat together, exchanged numbers, and started talking constantly after that.

    He was thoughtful and very intentional. I liked how he went out of his way to make me feel special. We officially started dating in March 2024, and I was genuinely happy. I even posted him on my socials.

    Sounds cute.

    But the relationship started falling apart when I found out about his past. In July 2024, someone left a comment under one of my posts with Adam, implying that he was a criminal. I didn’t notice it for weeks because it was on Facebook, which I barely use. George eventually sent me a screenshot and told me to check it out.

    At first, I thought it was just a hate comment and deleted it. Instead of accusing Adam outright, I asked him if there was anything about his past he hadn’t told me. He insisted there wasn’t.

    But I started feeling uneasy because he was very secretive about his past and refused to introduce me to anyone who knew him personally. My friends encouraged me to dig deeper. Eventually, I reached out to the person who commented, and she sent me a link to an article showing that Adam had been arrested and imprisoned for fraud by his former workplace in 2017.

    When I confronted him with the evidence, he broke down and admitted he’d spent over a year in prison. He claimed a coworker falsely accused him, and he was eventually acquitted and released.

    That’s a lot to process. How did you handle it?

    It was overwhelming. I didn’t want to judge him solely by his past because he’d been good to me and hadn’t put me in danger. I even researched online, and most advice said not to condemn someone who had served their time. So I stayed.

    But after that, the relationship changed. Adam became extremely insecure about George. I think he went through my phone and realised that George had encouraged me to investigate and consider ending things. From then on, he accused George of trying to sabotage our relationship and constantly questioned why I was so close to a male friend.

    I made the mistake of explaining my history with George, hoping it would reassure him, but it only made things worse. Adam started monitoring my movements and picking fights regularly. I slowly checked out emotionally.

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    In January of this year, he encountered financial difficulties. He owed someone from our trading group who publicised it because he refused to pay back. Given his past and everything else that was happening, I took it as my sign to leave before things got messier.

    How did he handle that?

    Adam didn’t take it well. He accused me of abandoning him at his lowest and tried to guilt-trip me into staying. I gave it another month, but I eventually realised that his kindness wasn’t a good enough reason to stay. That relationship taught me that cheating isn’t the only thing that makes a relationship unhealthy.

    Right. Did you meet anyone after that? 

    I did. In September, a friend introduced me to someone she thought I’d be compatible with. We texted for weeks and eventually went on a date that I thought went well. But afterwards, he blocked me.

    Later, I realised it likely happened because when he offered to take me home, I declined and mentioned I already had plans to meet George. That reaction told me everything I needed to know. I can’t be with someone who feels threatened by my platonic friendships.

    Fair enough. How have these experiences shaped your idea of love and relationships?

    They’ve taught me not to settle. For a long time, I made excuses for people and ignored red flags. I’ve also learned to listen to my friends. They’ve always given me sound advice, even when I didn’t want to hear it.

    Finally, how are the streets treating you these days? Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10.

    I like the idea of being in a relationship, but I’m not desperate. I know good people exist, and I’ll eventually meet someone who meets my standards. For now, I have my friends and family to keep me company.


    READ NEXT: Na Me F Up? I Refused to Pay for My Friend’s Car Repairs on a Detty December Trip


  • If your long-distance relationship (LDR) is caused by one or both partners being frequent travellers or digital nomads, you’re dealing with a different kind of challenge. In most LDRs, the main problem is partners missing each other. However, in addition to that, you’re dealing with navigating time zone differences, cross-border payments, spontaneous travel changes, and financial stress.

    It’s a whole lot, and if you spot these signs, it means your relationship might struggle to endure the complexities of life on the move.

    Someone refuses to adjust for time zone differences

    In a travel-based LDR, scheduling calls involves making significant shared sacrifices. Is your boo in a time zone seven hours away, and they always expect you to be the one to stay up until 2 a.m. for a quick call?

    A good partner shares the inconvenience. If they can’t lose two hours of sleep to spend time with you, do we really need to tell you there’s a problem?

    You genuinely don’t know when you’ll see each other again

    If you and your partner haven’t discussed a concrete plan, date, and budget for the next time you’ll physically see each other within the next 6-12 months, your relationship is likely running on vibes. 

    A small travel change sends them into financial chaos

    Travel is all about unexpected changes. A flight can get cancelled, or you urgently need to make an emergency payment in a foreign currency. 

    If any of these spontaneous moments sends your partner into panic mode because of the fear of bank fees or getting stranded without access to their money, they’re probably not equipped for this lifestyle. When your partner is far away, you need them to be financially flexible and prepared. If they are still stressing over basic cross-border payments, they are wasting energy that should be spent on you.

    They’re still paying wild fees for currency exchange

    You and your partner are essentially throwing money away if you’re paying high airport exchange rates and incurring multiple international transaction fees every month.

    You can’t be serious about travel if you are not smart about money. This is where Timon comes in. It’s the one fintech app that simplifies payments, currency exchange, and secures international transactions, ensuring your money works everywhere, without limitations. 

    Instead of sifting through multiple fintech apps to find one that works with your naira abroad, think of Timon as the only financial passport you need for global travel. 

    Your calls are filled with complaints about travel logistics

    If every video call is dominated by complaints about visa woes or payment issues without space for a genuine emotional connection, your romance might be on holiday. Besides, why should you still be dealing with the stress of travel when you can go the Timon way?

    Ready to upgrade your life (and your wallet)? Get Timon

    If your love is strong enough to survive international borders, it deserves a financial tool that makes life smooth.

    Timon is the essential travel fintech app simplifying global payments and effortless connectivity with a range of exciting features:

    • The Timon Black Card gives you the freedom to pay seamlessly using Google Pay or Apple Pay, making transfers to merchants across African countries without the usual hassle. 
    • The Timon USD card allows you to fund your account in naira and spend internationally with ease. On top of that, global eSIMs keep you connected 24/7, no matter where your travels take you.

    Whether you are a frequent traveller, a remote worker, or someone who simply wants to enjoy better payments across borders, Timon brings all these solutions into one easy-to-use app.

    So, download the Timon app today, sign up, and explore all the different ways Timon makes your money work everywhere, without limitations.


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  • Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.


    Deji*, 32, came back to Lagos from Canada for Detty December expecting nothing more than good music, old friends and a good time. However, when a road trip with a close friend ended in an unexpected expense and an awkward fallout, he found himself questioning the line between generosity and entitlement.

    When you’re done reading, you get to decide: did he fuck up, or not?

    This is Deji’s Dilemma, as shared with Adeyinka

    I came back to Lagos for Detty December expecting a good time. I wanted to rest, enjoy myself and reconnect with people I hadn’t seen in a long time. I didn’t plan for anything stressful; I just wanted the trip to feel easy.

    Tade* is one of my closest friends. We’ve known each other for years, and I’ve always seen him as someone I can move with without overthinking. Since I landed, we’ve been hanging out almost every day. We’ve gone for raves, two concerts and have a few more shows lined up. From the beginning, we agreed to split bills. Everyone paid their way, and it never felt like an issue. That was why I didn’t expect a road trip to Ibadan to change the dynamic between us.

    I had a wedding to attend in Ibadan and didn’t want to go alone. More than that, I needed someone to drive. I don’t have a car in Lagos, and I wasn’t keen on navigating a December road trip with a random driver. Tade was the obvious choice.

    When I asked him, he wasn’t enthusiastic. He talked about the long drive, traffic and stress. I understood his hesitation, so I didn’t push. Eventually, he agreed, but only on the condition that I would fuel his car to Ibadan and back. I was surprised by the request, but I didn’t argue. I agreed and told myself it wasn’t worth turning into a back-and-forth.

    The trip to Ibadan went smoothly. The wedding was nice, we ate well and joked through most of it. I was genuinely glad I didn’t travel alone. On our way back to Lagos, the car started acting up somewhere along the road. We pulled over, called a mechanic, and after checking it, he said we needed to fix it immediately if we wanted to continue our trip. The cost was a bit over ₦100,000.

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    Before I fully processed what he’d said, Tade turned to me and asked me to pay for it. I was taken aback. 

    In my head, a lot of things were happening at once. I’d already paid for fuel both ways. I’d covered feeding during the trip. Beyond this particular outing, I’d also brought him clothes from Canada, two pairs of sneakers and a designer perfume. I didn’t bring those things as leverage, and I hadn’t thought of them as something to count, but they were very present in my mind in that moment.

    I told him I couldn’t pay for the repairs. It was his car. We had agreed on fuel, not maintenance or repairs. If something had happened to my phone or my luggage during the trip, I wouldn’t have expected him to pay for it. I felt like I had already held up my end of what we discussed.

    Tade didn’t argue with me or raise his voice. He paid for the repairs himself and got back into the car. From that point on, his mood changed completely.

    The rest of the journey to Lagos felt uncomfortable. He barely spoke. When I tried to make conversation, his responses were short and flat. By the time we got back, it was obvious something had shifted between us. Since then, he’s been distant.

    He still replies to messages, but there’s a noticeable change. He takes longer to respond and doesn’t initiate plans the way he did before. We had already talked about more Detty December outings, but now I’m not sure if he’ll show up or not.

    From my perspective, I didn’t abandon him or leave him stranded. I paid for fuel as agreed. I covered food. I showed up as a friend in ways that weren’t transactional. I didn’t start listing those things to him because I didn’t want to sound petty, but I can’t pretend they don’t exist.

    At the same time, I keep wondering if I missed something obvious. Perhaps from his perspective, it felt like I had used his car and time, and then refused to step up when things went wrong. Or maybe he assumed that, since I was visiting from abroad, unexpected expenses would naturally fall on me.

    If he had said from the start that I would be responsible for any damage to the car, I would have thought more carefully about taking the trip. I might have still agreed, or I might have made a different plan. What unsettled me was the assumption that I should automatically take on that cost.

    Now I find myself replaying everything. Should I have just paid and moved on, especially since money wasn’t much of an issue? Or was I right to draw a line and refuse responsibility for something we never discussed?

    What makes this harder is that I value our friendship. Detty December is meant to be chill, but I’ve spent part of it navigating guilt. I don’t want this to be the incident that ruins our relationship. At the same time, I don’t want to apologise for something I don’t fully believe was wrong.

    I’ve been present and generous. And yet, here I am, questioning myself.

     *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.


  • 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.


    For most of her teenage years, Tofunmi* (28) was responsible for making her brothers’ meals— a chore she grew to resent.

    Leaving home for university felt like freedom until years later, a visit to her older brother, Tade* (31), reopened old wounds and pushed their already fragile relationship to the edge.

    What’s your relationship with cooking like?

    I hate cooking. Especially when I have to do it for a large group of people.

    Why is that?

    I’m the second child of three and the only girl. Growing up, my mum insisted that learning to cook was essential for a future wife, so when I was eight, she started teaching me how to cook. By the time I was ten, I was solely responsible for cooking for my brothers while she cooked for our dad.

    What effect did this have on your relationship with your parents and brothers?

    I grew to resent my parents for it. I was expected to cook for my brothers every single day, even if I was tired from school. As for my brothers, they started to see me as their dedicated chef. They showed no appreciation for my efforts and felt entitled to them. It caused a lot of friction with my older brother, especially.

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    How so?

    Because he’s the firstborn, he chose what I cooked for our meals. The power must have gotten to his head because as we got older, his demands became more unreasonable.

    Can you give me an example of this?

    My dad eats from a fresh pot of soup or stew every day. When I was thirteen, my older brother decided he would only eat freshly made food too. So I had to cook meals from scratch every day when I came home from school. It was frustrating trying to balance school and what felt like an unpaid career as a personal chef at home.

    Did you try to report him to your parents?

    Yes, but my mum said it was good practice for when I got married, and my husband demanded fresh daily meals. So I had to get creative with prepping ingredients to keep up. I hated it that I always smelled like food and spices, no matter how many showers I took.

    Walk me through a typical day. What meals did you make?

    I would wake up at 5:00 am to make scrambled eggs and tea for when my brothers woke up. Then I would cook jollof rice or yam and stew so the boys had something to eat when we got back from school. For the evenings, it was usually a swallow, and my brother chose the soups. He hated eating dinner late, so I would usually start cooking around 6:30 pm so food would be served by 8:00 pm.

    That sounds like a lot. When did you have time to study for school?

    I carried my books to the kitchen all the time to read while things were simmering on the fire. So even my books smelled like food. 

    Wow, did you ever catch a break?

    My first big break came when I got into university in 2015. For the first time, I was away from home, and I didn’t have to cook for anyone. Not even myself. My free time was mine, and I felt like I could finally breathe. 

    How did your family deal with it?

    My parents didn’t really care, but my brothers hated it. Especially my older brother. We attended the same university in the city where we lived, so he tried to discourage my parents from letting me stay in the hostel so I could continue cooking for them. I had to put my foot down, and after a lot of back and forth, my mum got a maid to help with the cooking instead.


    Read Next: I Stopped Being My Brother’s Backup Plan


    Did your relationship with your parents improve after that?

    Yes, the maid took over cooking for my younger brother and even made food for my older brother and me when we visited. As for my older brother, we weren’t close, but we were cordial. However, recently, even that polite cordiality we shared is gone.

    Tell me about that.

    My older brother moved to Lagos after he finished school in 2017 and has lived there ever since. I stayed back in Ibadan after getting a job and lived at home. 

    In May 2025, I got invited to a job interview in Lagos and needed a place to stay. I wanted to book a hotel for the night, but my brother suggested I stay with him instead. I was happy to take him up on his offer, but the visit didn’t go as I imagined.

    What happened?

    I arrived in Lagos the night before my interview in the evening. As soon as I got to his place, my brother announced that he’d bought some ingredients earlier in the afternoon so I could make him some soup for dinner.

    How did you react?

    I hadn’t even showered after the trip. I told him I was too tired to cook, but I was happy to buy him some food if he wanted. 

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    How did he take that?

    He did not take it well at all. He started yelling about disrespect and said that I had gotten too proud. He said I could either make him a meal or get out of his house that night.

    Ah, because of food? What did you do?

    Right? It was so silly. I left his place for him around 9:00 pm and got a hotel room instead. I wasn’t about to cook for anybody after a long day of travelling.  I was so upset at his entitlement, and I vowed that was the end of our relationship.

    Did you tell your parents about his behaviour?

    My brother reported me to them. My mum’s reaction was just as annoying. She said I should have kept the peace by cooking the food for him. My dad thinks I’m overreacting by cutting him off. But he agreed that asking me to cook the night before my job interview was not the way to be a good host.

    Did your older brother apologise to you?

    No. I haven’t heard a single apology from him. I’ve stopped speaking to him, and I have no intentions of breaking the silence. I think he’s a bully, and until he apologises or changes, I won’t be indulging him. I got the job and moved to Lagos in June, and I still haven’t visited or spoken to him. 

    Do you think you’d be open to settling this issue with your brother if he apologised?

    Sure. I’m willing to set aside any past resentment I have about cooking if he shows he doesn’t feel entitled to my labour. I’m not his personal chef, and I won’t let him treat me like one.


    Hey, if you’d like to share your own #SunkenShips story with Zikoko, fill out this form!


  • Nurein* (54) never grew up imagining marriage as something romantic. For him, marriage was simply the next stage of responsibility. He married young, built a home with the woman who understood him best, and unexpectedly became a single father after tragedy struck. Almost twenty years later, he found love again in the most unlikely place.

    In this week’s Marriage Diaries, he reflects on rebuilding after loss, blending two families into one, learning to express himself again, and why love cannot stand alone in a marriage.

    This is his marriage diary.


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


    Marriage wasn’t romance for me; it was about responsibility

    Before I ever thought about getting married, I’d already decided I wasn’t a romantic person. It’s not that I didn’t care about women; I just didn’t express affection the way people expect. I believed in providing, protecting and showing up. Everything after that felt unnecessary or foreign.

    My father shaped most of that. He used to say, “A man becomes a man the day he pays his own rent.” According to him, the next step was marriage. Not for love, but because a responsible man builds a family. That was the mindset I grew up with. I was surrounded by men who believed the same thing. My father had seven younger brothers, and they all treated marriage like a duty, not a grand love story.

    So when marriage became a conversation in my life, it wasn’t because I was searching for deep connections or the love of my life; the decision felt straightforward. She was ready for marriage, and I was too; we understood each other well enough to build something solid. At the time, that made perfect sense to me.

    Losing my first wife broke parts of me I didn’t know existed

    Nothing prepared me for 2001. My first wife died in a car accident on her way back from work and left me with three children. That period broke parts of me I didn’t even know existed.

    She understood me in a way nobody else ever had. She knew silence didn’t mean anger. She never pressured me to talk when I wasn’t in the mood. Life was simple with her, and losing her felt like losing my balance.

    My family wanted me to remarry quickly so someone could raise the children, but I refused. I didn’t want anyone replacing their mother, and I was scared of my children being treated like outsiders in their own home. So I took on everything. I became the parent they cried to, the parent who packed their bags for school and the parent who cooked. My late mother helped until she passed, but the weight was mostly on me.

    If anyone had told me then that I would marry again, I would have dismissed it immediately.

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    I didn’t plan to fall in love again. Life just pushed me there

    Nearly two decades passed before anything like love appeared again, and it happened in the most ordinary place. I met my current wife at my last born’s school during visiting day. She was a single mother with two children and we kept running into each other.

    At first, it was just casual greetings. Slowly, it became short conversations. Over time, we started looking forward to those meetings even more than the visiting day itself.

    Five years went by, and we were still constant in each other’s lives. Eventually, we agreed it was time to bring our families together. We moved into one house with her children, my children and hopes for one child together. That part hasn’t happened, but we’re still trusting God.

    The day we told the kids we were all going to live together remains one of my happiest moments. They were excited in a way that assured me we were making the right decision.

    Blending two families will test every part of you

    Nobody prepares you for the complexity of combining households. I didn’t doubt my ability to be a good partner because I’d been married before, but this was different. Each of us came with children who had their histories and peculiarities. And it was difficult to effectively play daddy and mummy.

    But one of the hardest parts has been navigating the presence of my wife’s ex-husband. He’s not active in their lives, but every now and then, he asks to see the children. And as much as I want to be the only father figure they rely on, I can’t deny them access to their biological father.

    So I have to sit with that discomfort and still encourage a relationship I’m not emotionally comfortable with. With my own kids, it’s simpler because their mother is gone. But with hers, every request from their father forces me to be the bigger person and think about what’s right.

    Then there’s the financial side of things. When people ask me how many children I have, I say five. All five eat my food, sleep under my roof and call me daddy when they feel like it. My wife supports us, but she allows me to play the role of father fully, and I take that seriously.

    Still, we get those small misunderstandings where a child reports an issue to me instead of her, or vice versa. We always pull everyone together and remind them that there’s no division here. We are one family.

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    My wife wants conversations, but I prefer silence

    Communication is the area I struggle with the most. My wife is expressive. She likes to talk through things, share her thoughts and hear mine. She expects conversations on days I’m comfortable being quiet.

    When she talks and I stay silent, she feels ignored, even when I’m simply thinking. What starts as a small moment easily becomes a misunderstanding. I’ve had to learn that silence doesn’t always work in marriage.

    I’ve had to stretch myself. Sometimes, I force myself to talk about the day. Other times, I pretend I don’t know something and let her explain it because I know it makes her feel heard. I ask her questions I already know the answers to so she knows I’m paying attention.

    It doesn’t come naturally, but marriage requires sacrifices you don’t always expect. I’m not the same man I was with my first wife. I’m gentler now, more expressive than I’ve ever been, even though it’s still not perfect.

    Marriage has made me more patient and playful than I imagined

    If you had met me twenty years ago, you would never believe I’d become the man I am now. I like to joke that I’m the judge of the house. Every day, somebody is reporting somebody, and I have to settle it fairly. That alone has stretched my patience.

    But I’ve also become softer. My wife says I still don’t talk enough, but she doesn’t know the version of me my first wife knew; I was the man who barely spoke at all. Now, I sit with the kids to watch TV even when I’m not interested. I gist with them so they don’t call me strict. I play more than I ever imagined I would.

    Marriage will teach you things about yourself that you didn’t even know were hiding somewhere inside.

    Love is good, but love alone cannot carry a marriage

    I believe love plays a strong role, but I don’t think it can stand alone. Marriage needs communication, patience, sacrifice, commitment and the willingness to show up for your family every day.

    Love won’t raise children, settle conflicts among five siblings or help you swallow your pride when your partner needs reassurance. Love won’t guide you when you’re learning how to blend two families.

    There is a place for love, but there must also be a place for responsibility and maturity. That balance is what keeps a home standing.

    I’ve lived through two different marriages and learned from both. The first taught me devotion and the second taught me growth. Together, they taught me that it’s possible to love and stretch your heart in ways you never thought possible.

    *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.


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

  • Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.


    Subomi* (28) and Derinsola* (27) are university mates who went from enemies to lovers. For years, they couldn’t stand each other until the NYSC camp forced them into the same space and changed everything.

    On this week’s Love Life, they talk about campus politics, realising they had more in common than they thought, and why they’ve had to ban all talk of  politics to keep their relationship intact.

    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Subomi: 200 level, around 2016 or 2017. I’d just joined the department as a direct entry student, so I was completely new to everyone. I’m naturally extroverted. I talk to people easily, make friends quickly, so within a few weeks, I’d already integrated into the department. I knew most people’s names, joined group chats, and attended all the hangouts. I was just being myself, really. But Derin didn’t seem to like me. Whenever I said “hi,” she either turned away or barely responded. But I didn’t think too much about it. I continued befriending whoever wanted to be my friend.

    Derinsola: And I hated it. I remember when he joined the department. He was always in people’s faces, acting like he’d been there since 100 level. I found it incredibly annoying. I thought, “Who is this person? Why is he so loud?” I kept my distance because I just couldn’t deal with his energy. We were in the same classes sometimes, but I made sure we never had to interact beyond what was necessary.

    Subomi: I didn’t even know she felt that way at first. I thought we were just two people who didn’t know each other well. It wasn’t until much later that I realised she actively disliked me.

    Right. So when did you start interacting directly?

    Subomi: Toward the end of 200 level. I’d been thinking about running for departmental president and started putting feelers out to see if I had a chance. That’s when I found out Derinsola was also planning to run. I thought, “Okay, this is going to be interesting.” We weren’t friends, but I didn’t think we were enemies either. The election changed that.

    Derinsola: The moment I heard he was running, I knew it was going to be messy. We were already not fans of each other, and now we were competing for the same position. The entire campaign became chaotic. There were camps forming, people taking sides, rumours flying around. It brought out the worst in both of us.

    What do you mean?

    Derinsola: The campaign was intense. I’d been in the department since 100 level, so I had the advantage of time. I knew the older students, the lecturers, and the course reps from other levels. I had built-in support. Subomi, on the other hand, was a DE student who’d only been around for a year. But he’d built a following so quickly that it actually scared me. People liked him because he was charismatic, funny, the kind of person who could walk into a room and instantly command attention. So even though I had seniority, I knew I had a real fight on my hands.

    Subomi: I also felt disadvantaged because I was new. But I’d worked hard to build relationships in that one year. I attended every departmental event, joined every group project, and made myself visible. By the time the election came around, I had enough people backing me that I genuinely believed I could win. The campaign itself got ugly at some point; there were accusations, people trying to discredit each other, alliances forming and breaking. The dean of student affairs had to intervene at some point when the situation started getting violent.

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    Wow.

    Derinsola: When we resumed 300 level, and the election was getting closer, Shubomi came to me and tried to get me to step down. I was so angry. I looked him dead in the eye and told him there was no way in hell I was stepping down. If anything, it made me more determined to beat him.

    So, who won the election?

    Derinsola: I did. And not by a small margin either. When the results came out, it was clear I had more support. I remember the moment they announced it, I felt vindicated. All that hard work and years of dedication to the department paid off. He looked devastated, and honestly, I was glad. I wanted him to know he couldn’t just waltz into the department and take over.

    Subomi: I was crushed, actually. I’d put everything into that campaign, and I lost. It hurt so bad, but I knew I had to handle it with grace. I congratulated her publicly, told people to support her administration, and even offered to help her with whatever she needed. I didn’t want to be the bitter loser who made everyone uncomfortable. I wanted to show that I could lose and still be mature about it.

    Right. Derinsola, how did you respond to his offer to help?

    Derinsola: I didn’t trust him. Not even a little bit. Every time he offered to help, I’d shut him down or treat him coldly. I was convinced he was trying to sabotage me from the inside; that he’d join my team, gather information, and use it against me somehow. Looking back now, I know I was paranoid. But at the time, I couldn’t see past my own suspicion. So I made it very clear that I didn’t need or want his help.

    Subomi: I’d walk up to her, trying to be friendly, and she’d barely acknowledge me. At some point, I gave up. So we spent the rest of our time in school barely speaking to each other. We’d be in the same classes, the same departmental events, but we avoided each other as much as possible. When we had to interact, it was civil but distant. I honestly thought that was the end of our story.

    I can imagine. How did you find your way back to each other?

    Subomi: 2022. NYSC camp in Ikeja. I was at the registration centre, filling out forms, and I looked up and saw her standing a few meters away. My first thought was, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Of all the local governments in Lagos, of all the NYSC batches, we ended up in the same place at the same time. It felt like some kind of cosmic joke.

    Derinsola: I had the exact same reaction. When I saw him, I actually groaned out loud. My friend asked what was wrong, and I said, “That guy over there. We went to the same school, and we hate each other.” She laughed and said, “Well, you’re stuck with him for the next three weeks.”

    What was your interaction like after you saw each other?

    Subomi: Awkward as hell. We made eye contact, and for a few seconds, neither of us knew what to do. I could see her deciding whether to ignore me or acknowledge me. Eventually, I just walked over and said, “Hey, Derin. Long time.” She looked surprised that I’d even approached her, but she said hi back. We exchanged a few awkward pleasantries, asked each other where we’d been since graduation, what we’d been up to. It was surface-level, but it was civil. That was a start.

    Derinsola: I was genuinely surprised he acknowledged me. I thought maybe he was still bitter about the election and would just ignore me. But he seemed different. Less uppity, more relaxed. I don’t know if it was the camp stress. We were all just trying to survive the drills, the heat, the terrible food, and the overcrowded hostels. 

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    Fair enough. When did things start to shift between you two?

    Derinsola: It happened gradually. We started gravitating toward each other without really planning it. We’d see each other during the parade, or at the mammy market, or during the evening socials, and we’d end up talking. At first, it was just about camp stuff. We’d complain about the platoon leaders, laugh at the ridiculous rules, and share tips on how to survive. But then the conversations got deeper. 

    We started talking about what we’d been doing since graduation, our career plans, and our lives outside of camp. And the more we talked, the more I realised we actually had a lot in common. We liked the same music, we had similar views on certain things, and we even had mutual friends we’d never known about. I started thinking I was wrong about him.

    Subomi: Same for me. I started seeing her in a completely different light. She wasn’t the cold, uptight person I remembered from school. She was funny and surprisingly easy to talk to. She had this dry sense of humour that caught me off guard and made me laugh. By the second week of camp, we were spending most of our free time together. We’d sit together during lectures, eat together at the mammy market, and walk around camp just talking for hours. It felt natural, like we’d been friends for years instead of enemies.

    I see. So, at what point did things start to move from a platonic level?

    Shubomi: For me, it was maybe a month or two after camp. We met during weekly CDS, and I started noticing little things about her. The way she laughed, the way she got animated when she was talking about something she cared about, and the way she’d check in on me to make sure I was okay. I started looking forward to seeing her every week. I wasn’t actively looking for a relationship at the time. I’d just come out of something messy with my ex, and I was trying to focus on myself and my career. But Derin made it hard not to feel something. She just fit easily into my life at that particular time.

    Right. Were you single too, Derin?

    Derinsola: I was actually seeing someone at the time. Long distance. He was based in Abuja, working, and we barely saw each other. Maybe once every two months if we were lucky. We’d talk on the phone, but it always felt like he was too busy, too tired, or too distracted. I’d complain to Shubomi about how I felt neglected and how I was tired of being the only one putting in effort, and Shubomi would just listen. He didn’t try to turn me against my boyfriend or anything like that. He’d just say things like, “You deserve better than this,” or “You shouldn’t have to beg for attention.” And I started realising he was right. I was settling for someone who wasn’t giving me what I needed, while Shubomi, whom I’d spent years hating, was right there, showing up for me every single day.

    When did you tell her how you felt, Shubomi?

    Subomi: One evening after CDS. We were chilling at a restaurant, just talking. She was telling me about another fight she’d had with her boyfriend, and I could see how exhausted she was. So I just said it. I told her about my feelings and how I wasn’t trying to mess up her relationship. I said she deserved better, and I wanted to be that person if she’ll let me.”

    Derinsola: I was shocked, but not really. Part of me had been sensing it. When he finally said it out loud, I didn’t know what to say. I told him I needed time to think. But deep down, I already knew. I’d been developing feelings for him, too. I was more excited to see Shubomi than I was to talk to my boyfriend. That told me everything I needed to know. I ended things with my boyfriend a few weeks later. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. And in February 2023, Shubomi and I made it official.

    Nice. What were the early days of the relationship like?

    Derinsola: Really sweet. We spent a lot of time together. We’d visit each other on weekends, call every night before bed, and send each other random texts throughout the day. It felt easy and natural, like we’d been doing this for years.

    Subomi: It was one of those relationships where everything just clicked. We already knew each other’s flaws, so there were no surprises. We knew exactly what we were getting into, and we still chose each other. That felt incredibly special. However, we still had our share of disagreements.

    Tell me more. 

    Derinsola: A few months into the relationship. We realised that the same thing that brought us together—our shared interest in politics and social issues—was also tearing us apart. We’d get into these long, heated arguments about everything. Politics, economic policies, social justice, and gender issues. And they weren’t friendly debates. They were full-blown fights where we’d both get emotional and say things we didn’t mean.

    Can you give me a specific example?

    Derinsola: The 2023 elections almost ended us. Shubomi supported Tinubu. I supported Peter Obi. And we both felt so strongly about our choices that we couldn’t just agree to disagree. Every time something came up about the elections, we’d get into it. He’d defend Tinubu’s record as Lagos governor, and I’d bring up all the issues with his administration. He’d say I was being emotional and not looking at facts, and I’d say he was being willfully blind to corruption. It got so bad that we stopped talking for three days at one point.

    Subomi: I still stand by my decision. I believed Tinubu was the best candidate at the time based on my analysis of the political landscape and the realistic options available. But I’ll admit I was probably too vocal about it. I was on X defending him and arguing with people. It drove Derin crazy. 

    Derinsola: The worst part was after he won. Shubomi had this smug energy for weeks, and I couldn’t stand it. I remember telling him, “If you send me one more text about this election, I’m blocking you.” And I meant it. To this day, when I think about how loud and supportive he was of APC, it still makes my blood boil.

    How did you guys move past that?

    Subomi: We had to have a serious conversation about it. After that three-day silent treatment, I realised we couldn’t keep going like this. So I called her and said we needed to have a conversation. We talked for hours that night, and both admitted that we’d let our egos get in the way and we’d been more interested in winning the argument than understanding each other’s perspectives. We eventually agreed that politics and social issues were off-limits unless absolutely necessary.

    Derinsola: It wasn’t easy to accept that boundary at first. But we realised that being right wasn’t worth losing each other over. So now, when we feel an argument starting, one of us will say, “Let’s not do this,” and we drop it. We change the subject, we walk away, we do whatever we need to do to avoid going down that road.

    Do you think avoiding these conversations is sustainable long-term?

    Derinsola:  I don’t know. Sometimes I worry that we’re just sweeping things under the rug, that eventually, it’s going to blow up in our faces. But for now, it’s working. We’ve found other things to bond over, like careers, families, and our future plans together. We don’t need to agree on everything to love each other.

    Subomi: I think as we mature and grow together, we’ll get better at having these conversations without them turning into fights. We’re learning how to disagree respectfully, listen even when we don’t agree, and how to recognise when a conversation is about to cross a line. It’s a work in progress, but we’re committed to figuring it out.

    Rooting for you both. What’s the best thing about being with each other?

    Subomi: She challenges me in ways no one else does. She makes me think critically about things I might have accepted without a second thought. Even when we disagree, I respect her intelligence and her ability to articulate her thoughts clearly. She’s also incredibly supportive of my career and my goals. When I’m stressed about work or uncertain about a decision, she’s the first person I turn to, because I know she’ll give me honest and thoughtful advice.

    Derinsola: He’s dependable. When I need him, he shows up without excuses or hesitation. And despite all our arguments and our differences, he’s never made me feel like he doesn’t care about me or value me. He’s also hilarious, which honestly saves us most of the time. When things get tense or we’re about to start arguing, he’ll say something ridiculous that makes me laugh, and suddenly the tension is gone. That’s a gift.

    How would you rate your love on a scale of 1-10?

    Subomi: I’d say an 8. We’re building something real together. However, we’re still learning how to navigate our differences, communicate more effectively, and resolve conflicts fairly. We’ll get to a 10 eventually, but we’re not there yet.

    Derinsola: I’d also say 8. We have our challenges, but I genuinely believe we can work through them. We’ve already overcome so much—going from enemies to friends to lovers isn’t a small thing. If we can do that, we can handle whatever else comes our way.

    *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.


    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.