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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Jamal: I first saw her at a party—one of those loud, flashy ones in Lekki in 2022. I wasn’t really into all that stuff, but my boys dragged me there. She was wearing this neon green outfit that just stood out in the crowd. I remember thinking she was way too cool for me. I didn’t talk to her that night, but I stalked her Instagram for days after.  

    Tomi: Funny enough, I don’t even remember seeing him at that party. I only knew him from the DMs he sent after. I wasn’t going to reply at first because, you know, typical Lagos guys just want vibes. But he asked me what I thought about one weird, deep quote I posted. It wasn’t the usual “hi dear” stuff. I thought, “Maybe he’s not like the others.”

    I’m guessing he proved you right?

    Tomi: In some ways, yeah. 

    He wasn’t the typical guy I was used to. He wasn’t all about popping bottles or showing off. I mean, he did some of that at first, but deep down, he had this soft side, always asking questions about life and meaning. But it wasn’t all perfect; there were moments he’d still act like the Lagos boy—ghost me for a few days and then come back like nothing happened.  

    Jamal: Okay, to be fair, I was figuring myself out back then. I didn’t want to mess it up, but I also didn’t know how to be fully honest with her at the start. Lagos dating is a game, you know? You’re either playing or getting played. 

    But with her, I had to stop playing and start being real.

    How did you transition to “real”?

    Jamal: That was like two years ago. Feels longer though, with everything that’s happened since. We started off just chatting and hanging out, nothing too deep. But by the end of that year, things started getting serious.

    Tomi: Yeah, it was around December 2022 when we really clicked. I remember it was the “Detty December” period—people were going crazy with parties, but we were chilling, just talking about life, God, and everything in between. It was the first time I actually felt like a relationship could be more than just “vibes” and drama.

    Were you both religious before that?

    Tomi: No. I mean, I grew up in a Christian home, but I wasn’t serious about it. Church was just something I did on Sundays to make my mum happy. 

    At that time, I wasn’t even thinking about God like that. I was more into finding myself, trying to live my best life, you know? Like most of our generation, I was questioning everything—including religion.

    Jamal: My family is Muslim, but I wasn’t deep into it. Religion felt like something our parents’ generation cared about, not ours. I used to think, “What’s the point?” I was more focused on hustling, trying to secure the bag. But after a while, everything started to feel empty. I was partying, making money, but it wasn’t hitting like I thought it would. 

    When we got closer, we started having these deep conversations about faith and what it all means. It wasn’t planned; it just kind of happened.

    Is that how the relationship started?

    Tomi: Honestly, those conversations changed everything. We’d talk for hours, late into the night. At first, it was just about random stuff—life, why people do the things they do, Lagos madness. Then, somehow, it shifted to deeper questions about purpose and spirituality. 

    I didn’t expect it, but those talks made me see Jamal in a different light. It wasn’t just about the attraction anymore; it was like we were building something more meaningful together.

    Jamal: Yeah, those convos are what made me realise she wasn’t just another girl. We were both going through a phase of questioning everything and instead of drifting apart like a lot of people do when it gets that real, we got closer. 

    Tell me how that happened

    Jamal: I remember one night we were sitting in a lounge at the mall. After we’d had this heavy talk about the future, she just looked at me and said, “Do you even believe in anything?” That hit me. We were connecting on a spiritual level, which is wild because I never thought I’d be that guy.

    Tomi: It wasn’t like we were “religious” overnight or anything, but those conversations led us to start exploring faith together. And honestly, it was part of what sealed the relationship. I didn’t just want a relationship that was all vibes or built on physical stuff. I wanted someone who was on the same wavelength as me, someone I could grow with spiritually.

    So when did you become official?

    Jamal: Man, becoming official was messy at first. We’d been hanging out for months, and I knew she wanted to make it official, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I was still one foot in, one foot out. But after one argument where she basically told me she couldn’t keep doing this “situationship”, I knew I had to step up or risk losing her. So, I asked her out properly. We had a real conversation where I told her I wanted to be with her, no games.

    Tomi: Yeah, we had been in this grey zone for months, and it was frustrating. One day after we’d had a great weekend together, I straight-up asked him where this was going. I was tired of playing cool and acting like I didn’t care about a title. I remember being ready to walk away if he didn’t want something serious, but he surprised me. He finally said he wanted to be with me officially.

    When did you realise you loved each other?

    Jamal: When she called me out on my nonsense and didn’t let me off the hook. 

    I had a habit of disappearing when things got too serious—I’d just ghost for a bit. One time, I went MIA for like a week, and when I finally reached out, she didn’t just take me back. She told me straight up, “If you’re serious about this, you need to act like it.” No one had ever held me accountable like that before. It wasn’t just love, it was respect.

    Tomi: For me, it wasn’t one big moment; it was little things adding up. 

    Like, he’d stay up late talking to me about stuff that wasn’t even his vibe, just to understand me better. Or when he started randomly praying for me. One day, I was having the worst day, and instead of just being like, “Sorry babe, it’ll get better,” he actually prayed with me. I don’t know if that sounds cheesy, but that was real for me. I’d never had someone care for my soul like that. That’s when I knew it wasn’t just infatuation—it was something deeper.

    Was this before or after things became official?

    Tomi: It was after we became official. By then, I think we both knew we were onto something deeper, but I didn’t fully realise I loved him until we’d already put labels on it. 

    We made things official around mid-2023. I remember because it was after some serious back and forth. You know how Lagos dating can be—everyone’s afraid of getting played, so we were both a bit hesitant at first.

    Jamal: The moment she called me out for ghosting and held me accountable was a couple of months in. We had the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing going, but that’s when I knew it wasn’t just a title or a phase. Before that, we were just figuring each other out and trying to see if we could trust the situation.

    Got it. So what was the relationship like once you got serious?

    Tomi: We were both going through different stuff—relationship issues, career stress, just trying to figure out life. And we both felt like something was missing. 

    So I suggested we start going to church, but not just because it’s what our parents did. I wanted to see if there was something deeper for us. We started going together, and for the first time, I wasn’t just going through the motions.

    Jamal: I wasn’t really on that level at first. I went to church a few times just to make her happy, but eventually, I started feeling like maybe this was what I needed too. 

    Lagos life has a way of making you feel like you’re chasing stuff that doesn’t matter—money, parties, whatever. It’s all a distraction. But when we started talking about God, praying together, and going to church, I realised I was tired of pretending like I had it all figured out. It was less about religion and more about finding something real, something that could give our relationship meaning beyond just us.

    Did you feel like you needed to find God to be together?

    Tomi: It was more about finding a purpose together. And I think doing it together made it even more special. We held each other accountable and grew spiritually in ways I didn’t even think were possible before.

    Jamal: I wouldn’t say we needed to find God to be together, but it felt like the missing piece. Before, our relationship was good, but it was like we were coasting: Having fun, going out, doing what couples do. But after a while, it felt shallow. We started questioning if there was more to it. 

    Finding God gave us a deeper foundation. It made us think about what we wanted long-term, not just for ourselves but for the relationship.

    And what did you discover?

    Tomi: We could’ve kept going without bringing faith into it, but honestly, I don’t think we would’ve lasted. The relationship was good, but along the way, I realised I wanted to grow with someone spiritually, too. 

    Jamal: I think God helped us realise we didn’t just want to be another couple with good vibes but no depth. It made us more intentional, more grounded. So, in a way, finding God together felt necessary for us to really thrive as a couple.

    Did it change anything about you as individuals?

    Tomi: Yes. I didn’t know how much until everyone noticed and mentioned it to me. 

    I was always the “let’s go out, let’s have fun” type, so when I started skipping events or saying, “I’m going to church,” my friends were like, “Tomi, are you okay?” They didn’t understand it at first. I lost a few friends who thought I was trying to be holier-than-thou, but the real ones stayed. My mum was happy, though. She’d been praying for me to get serious about God for years, so she saw this as an answer to her prayers. And she loves Jamal for it.

    Jamal: My friends clowned me at first. I’d say I couldn’t come out because I had Bible study, and they’d be like, “Omo, Jamal has joined the ‘church boys’ now.” It was jokes for them, but after a while, they noticed I was serious about it. Some respected it, some didn’t. 

    As for my family, it’s mixed. My dad was confused because we’re a Muslim family, so he didn’t get why I was going to church. My mum was more chill about it—she just wanted me to be at peace. It took time for them to understand it wasn’t just a phase.

    So, what’s a “godly” relationship really like in your experience?

    Tomi: A “godly” relationship isn’t perfect, first of all. People think because you’re trying to do things God’s way, everything’s smooth, but nah. We still argue, and we still get annoyed with each other. The difference is, we don’t walk away from tough conversations. We’ve learnt to check our pride at the door and pray through the challenges. 

    That’s a huge shift from my past relationships, where I’d bounce if things got too hard. Now, I’m more committed to working things out because I know there’s something bigger holding us together.

    Jamal: Yeah, in my past relationships, if it’s working, it’s working, and when it stops working, you move on. There wasn’t any real purpose beyond enjoying the moment. 

    But with Tomi, we’re not just dating for dating’s sake. We see this as something that could lead to marriage, so we’re more intentional. We try to apply what we learn in church or from the Bible. For example, forgiveness is big for us. I used to hold grudges for days, but now, we don’t let things fester. We pray, we talk it out, and move on.

    That’s a good plus

    Tomi: And being “godly” also means setting boundaries that most people in our generation might not get. 

    We don’t have sex, and that’s something that shocks a lot of people. They think we’re being unrealistic or “too deep,” but it’s a choice we made because we believe it keeps our relationship focused on the right things. In a time when everything is so physical, being intentional about emotional and spiritual connection first makes us different.

    Jamal: We’re not trying to impress anyone. And honestly, that’s freeing. We’re focused on growth. It’s a different vibe from what most people our age are doing, but it’s working for us.

    Neat. How do you keep the faith strong?

    Tomi: By making it a priority in our relationship, not just something we do on Sundays. We pray together almost every day—sometimes it’s a long prayer, sometimes it’s just a quick, “God, help us today.” But we make sure we stay connected spiritually. We also talk about our faith a lot—what we’re struggling with, what we’re learning, how we’re growing. It keeps us accountable.

    Jamal: Yeah, the prayer thing has been huge for us. It wasn’t natural for me at first, but now, I can’t imagine our relationship without it. And we attend a church where we actually connect with the messages and people. We do Bible studies together, too, and we have debates about different topics. 

    It’s not always easy because we’re still young, and Lagos has a lot of distractions, but we try to stay focused on what matters.

    Like what?

    Tomi: Setting boundaries that align with our faith. As I said earlier, we’ve chosen to wait until marriage to have sex, and that decision keeps us focused on building a solid connection instead of being driven by physical attraction. 

    Jamal: And we remind each other why we’re doing this. There are days when we get tired or frustrated, and that’s when we have to refocus. Whether it’s through prayer, reading devotionals, or just talking about our faith, we make sure to keep God in the centre. It’s not always perfect, but we know the foundation we’re trying to build.

    How do you handle temptation, if any?

    Jamal: Honestly, temptation is real, especially since everyone’s just doing whatever they want. There’s always going to be someone or something trying to pull you away from what you’ve committed to, whether it’s other people, social media, or even just the culture. 

    But I don’t put myself in situations that will make me act out. If I know going out late to certain places with certain people will mess with my head, I avoid it.

    Tomi: I’ve had to cut off some friends or situations that weren’t healthy for my faith or our relationship. It’s not easy because people don’t always get it—they think you’re trying to be better than them or that you’ve “changed too much”. But it’s about knowing what I’m working towards. I keep my circle tight and surround myself with people who support our choices, not question them.

    That’s important 

    Jamal: And let’s be real, the sexual temptation is the hardest part. We decided to wait, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. We’re human. 

    So we’ve put boundaries in place—like, we don’t spend the night at each other’s places, and we try to limit being in situations where it’s just us in a closed space, especially late at night. That helps keep us accountable. It’s not foolproof, but it works most of the time.

    Tomi: Also, when we do feel tempted, we talk about it. We don’t pretend we’re not struggling or act like we’ve got it all figured out.

    Jamal: At the end of the day, it’s about discipline. You can’t rely on willpower alone. That’s where the faith comes in—it gives us strength to stay on track, even when it’s tough.

    Got it. What was your first major fight about?

    Tomi: It’s linked to what Jamal mentioned earlier. It was when we were still figuring out where we stood. In the first few months of our official relationship, I felt like Jamal wasn’t serious—he’d go days without reaching out, and I’d see him on Instagram living life like I didn’t exist. 

    I remember calling him out on it, and he got defensive, saying he wasn’t used to people “demanding” so much attention from him. It felt like I was asking for too much when all I wanted was basic communication.

    Jamal: Yeah, I was definitely in the wrong. I wasn’t used to being accountable in relationships. I had a “do what I want when I want” mindset, and that clashed with what Tomi needed. She wanted stability and consistency, and I wasn’t giving that.

    The fight got really heated because, for the first time, someone was calling me out for treating them like an option. It felt uncomfortable, but it was necessary. We didn’t talk for a few days after that, but it pushed me to be more serious about us.

    How did you show you were serious, Jamal?

    Jamal: I had to change the way I moved. First, I stopped ghosting. That was the big thing. I made sure I was more consistent with communication—no more going MIA for days and expecting her to be cool with it. 

    I also started being more intentional about spending quality time with her, not just the casual “Let’s hang when I’m free” kind of vibe. We’d plan proper dates, even if it was just chilling at her place and talking. I made an effort to be there, physically and emotionally.

    Tomi: It was a turning point. It wasn’t enough to just say we were official; it was about showing up for each other in real ways. It wasn’t easy, but looking back, it was what we needed to really start building something solid.

    Right

    Jamal: And I made the relationship public. I know that sounds small, but I posted her on my socials, which was like me saying, “I’m serious about this girl.” It wasn’t just for show; it was about being open with everyone, including friends, that I was committed.

    Tomi: We’ve even started talking about the future now. Even though we’ve agreed we should wait another year or two to be properly ready for the commitment of marriage.

    On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

    Tomi: I’d say it’s a solid 8. We’ve got the love, respect and commitment down, and we’re both working on ourselves individually. 

    The only reason I’m not giving it a 10 is because we’re still figuring out certain things, especially around balancing our faith and the pressures of modern relationships.

    Jamal: Yeah, I’d give it an 8 too. The love is there, and it’s real, but like Tomi said, there’s always stuff to work on.

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  • 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.


    How long have you been in your relationship?

    Four years. It’s my longest relationship, and that’s how I know he’s the one. I used to get bored easily in relationships.

    So, how did y’all meet?

    We met at NYSC orientation camp. He was in the process of “toasting” me when the lockdown happened, and the government sent all the corps members home. We’d already exchanged numbers, so we started talking every day about mundane things. Stuff like me complaining about being unable to go out to braid my hair or about how tired I was of eating beans —the only foodstuff I had at home. 

    We officially began dating when movement restrictions started to ease up gradually. I think I even fell in love before that. My boyfriend’s a nurse, and one of the perks of his job was free movement despite the curfew. The man actually used that perk to bring me rice and some other food items even before I agreed to date him because I complained about beans. Why won’t I say yes to that kind of intentionality?

    Haha, love it. Were you also working during this period?

    My PPA was a secondary school, but physical classes were suspended, and the management didn’t really involve corps members in the online classes they tried to hold. So, I mostly slept at home. My only income was the ₦33k NYSC stipend.

    Was your boyfriend’s financial situation any better?

    Oh yes. He made about ₦100k from the hospital, apart from the ₦33k NYSC stipend. He also received a hazard allowance because of the pandemic, but I can’t remember how much it was.

    He was my safety net during service year. I couldn’t really call home for money because my parents had my siblings to take care of, and I wanted to be independent. My boyfriend gave me at least ₦20k monthly, paid for dates, and got me random teddy bears and chocolate gifts for being a correct babe. 

    We moved in together halfway into service year. By then, we’d been dating for about four months. The love was “sweeting” us, and we wanted to spend every waking moment together. I only stayed eight months before moving out.

    What happened?

    We started having friction. I noticed he wasn’t putting as much effort into “dating” me as he did before. There were no more random gifts and dates. He even stopped the girlfriend allowance because he reasoned that he gave me ₦10k weekly to cook at home.

    I complained about the changes, which led to some disagreements. I felt like I was just giving sex and doing chores like a housewife while he was outside doing his thing. We eventually decided to live apart and work on our relationship more before cohabiting again. 

    So, I moved out in 2021 after NYSC, and he gave me ₦220k to support the ₦300k I needed for rent and the extra agent charges. I also got a job as a personal assistant at a recruiting firm and began earning ₦80k/month that same year. 

    Did that change how money worked in your relationship?

    It did. My boyfriend had provided for me for so long, and it was only fair for me to start reciprocating. He still sent me money and bought me stuff, but I began making more of an effort. I bought him a pair of ₦50k shoes for his birthday in 2021. I had to actively plan for that gift because my salary usually only covered transportation and feeding. But as a lover girl, I had to step up for my boo. 

    I also started sending him data monthly and cooking for him. He didn’t really ask for those; I just noticed he was always busy at work and constantly forgot to renew his data subscription. Plus, he hardly ate good food whenever I wasn’t around. So, I started packing some food for him whenever I cooked and moved to just going to his house during the weekend to cook like three soups and some rice dishes. Between 2021 – 2022, ₦15k – ₦20k could cook three soups. Now, I have to budget ₦30k – ₦40k.

    What are both of your finances like these days?

    At ₦300k/month, my boyfriend still earns more than me. I moved to the HR department of my firm in 2023, and my salary is now ₦120k.

    My boyfriend gives me ₦60k monthly and pays 40% of my rent. We take turns paying for dates. It’s not like we keep track of who paid today; we just subconsciously take each other out. I take care of his feeding and data and love to spoil him with gifts. Now that I think about it, I usually spend most of my girlfriend allowance on him. I’m a chronic online shopper, and I always see something that would look good on my man, so I buy. 

    I wiped my savings for his birthday this year to get him a ₦136k Paco Rabanne perfume and a ₦30k smartwatch. Yes, I’m a mumu for love. Before anyone drags me, he also buys me stuff for birthdays, anniversaries and Valentine’s days.

    LOL. What kind of money conversations do you have with your boyfriend?

    A recurring topic is my money habits. I’m the more lau lau spender—my man is very big on budgeting, and I spend money as the spirit leads. He’s generous to me, but he plans his giving. He budgets a specific amount per month for relationship things. He wants me to have a similar approach, but I haven’t been able to hack accountability. When I complain about being broke, and he asks what I spent money on, I tend to be a little defensive because “Is it not you I’m spending my money on?”. So, he lets it be.

    But we’re working on a fix. We plan to get married next year, and he suggested a joint account so we can both keep track of our finances. We’ll still have separate accounts, but we’ll send at least 60% of our income to the joint account and then use that money to handle joint home expenses. I believe that’ll also help curb my erratic spending habits.

    Has money ever caused conflict between you two?

    Oh yes. Apart from his concerns with my spending, we’ve once disagreed about him giving people money without telling me. He argued he didn’t have to tell me what he did with his money, but I didn’t think that was right. We’re in a committed relationship, and I should know who you’re helping. Before you start giving one babe money out of the goodness of your heart, and she wants to appreciate in kind. 

    It was a big issue because he thought I was unreasonable, but we discussed it, and he saw my point. Now, he tells me whenever he sends anyone money. I just like being in the know.

    You mentioned marriage by next year. How will the finances for that work?

    It’s my man o. He’s the one marrying me. I can support him by paying for my clothes and maybe buying his suit, but he’ll handle the rest.

    Do you have a financial safety net for that?

    Not really. Because of the birthday expenses, I have about ₦50k in my savings account. Before now, my savings were based on whatever I had left after spending. But my boyfriend is on my neck to save at least ₦30k monthly, so I’ll start doing that this month.

    What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

    To have bastard money, and a major step for that to happen is japa. My man has recently begun seriously considering japa options, especially because he works in healthcare and has the potential to earn more. I hope that works out within the next two years. I plan to support by upskilling in HR. I’m not a certified HR professional yet, and that’s my next goal. I feel like that’ll increase my chances of getting jobs abroad. 

    In summary, an ideal future for us would be marriage, working at good jobs outside the country and earning enough money to afford a good life for our future two children. It wouldn’t hurt if we owned two homes (one in Nigeria and one abroad) too.

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


    *Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    READ THIS NEXT: What’s a 50/50 Marriage in the UK Like on a £70K/Year Salary?

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  • How would you feel if your closest friend made a major decision like relocation without informing you?

    That’s what happened to Ezra. He talks about being blindsided by his long-term best friend’s relocation, getting angry, and why he’s decided not to let his feelings affect their friendship. 

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Canva AI

    If you’d asked me a year ago how I’d react to learning my best friend left the country without telling me, I’d have concluded that the friendship was over and cut off all communication. Now that it’s actually happened, I’ve found myself a lot more understanding. But it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it. 

    Deji* and I have been best friends since 2014. We met when we started sharing a bunk bed in our first year in university, and, as is usually the case with roommates, we automatically became friends. 

    At first, our friendship was just the standard greeting, sharing food when either of us cooked and gisting about football and girls. Then, we became closer over the years. I still can’t explain how that happened, but we soon began visiting each other’s homes during the holidays and forming relationships with each other’s families. 

    Deji’s mum had my number on speed dial and would call me if Deji didn’t pick up his phone when she called. Whenever she sent money and food to Deji at school, she’d send mine, too. Our parents also became close friends — the fact that Deji and I happened to come from the same state also helped — and we unofficially went from friends to brothers. 

    After we graduated from uni in 2021, I decided against returning home so I could plan for NYSC, and I spent the full three months waiting for my call-up letter in Deji’s family house. His family was essentially my second family; there was nothing that happened in Deji’s family that I didn’t know. That’s why, even though I’m surprised Deji would japa without telling me, I’m not holding it against him.

    The thing is, Deji comes from a heavily competitive polygamous home. His dad has multiple wives who constantly throw shade at each other, and his mum is constantly praying against enemies and spiritual attacks. I don’t consider myself superstitious, but some things I’ve seen in his family are more than mere coincidences.

    For one, Deji and his siblings never hold big parties or celebrations due to his mum’s insistence. She believes that calling attention to themselves can result in spiritual attacks. The two times that Deji’s sister ignored that rule and held birthday parties without their mum’s knowledge, she fell sick and landed in the hospital. 

    Just before we wrote our final exam paper in uni, Deji posted final year costume day pictures on Facebook and suddenly developed malaria the next day. I had to carry him on my back from the school clinic to the exam hall so he could write that paper and not get an extra year.

    So, I understood that Deji had to make most moves in secret. But I didn’t expect that would also extend to me, considering how close we were. In fact, when he landed a tech job a year after graduation, I was the only one he told how much he earned. When he started seriously considering japa in 2023, I was the only person he told apart from his parents and siblings. We even brainstormed routes, and I helped him write some of the applications. 

    That’s why I felt blindsided when, a few months ago, Deji sent me a WhatsApp message informing me that he’d arrived in Canada two days before and apologised for not telling me earlier. I honestly had no clue. I’d visited his house two weeks before then and asked about the visa status, but he said he was still waiting for feedback. 

    Honestly, I was angry at first. It felt like he was subconsciously classifying me as one of the “village people” who would spoil his plans if he told me about it. If I even wanted to spoil the plan, wouldn’t I have done so when he first mentioned it?

    I reduced communication for a bit after that because of my anger, but after some weeks, I realised I needed to get over myself. This is someone I know, and I understand his family circumstances. He’s still my best friend, and I’m sure he meant no harm. Plus, japa is something you can’t really afford to play trial and error with, considering the money involved in the process.

    So, regardless of my feelings, I understand why Deji did what he did. If he had to do it again, I’d have no choice but to understand. The fact that I don’t believe telling me would’ve affected his plan in any way doesn’t mean I should ignore his fears. Whatever he chooses to do, he’s still my best friend, and I don’t want anger or a slight misunderstanding to change that. 

    Right now, I’m helping him sell off the properties he left behind. He didn’t sell anything while still here to avoid arousing suspicion. Once that’s done, I’ll send him the money and look forward to when he can afford to visit Nigeria. Or maybe I’ll be the next to japa. Who knows?


    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ: At 62, I Returned to Nigeria to Retire. Things Took an Unexpected Turn


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  • If your definition of hot romanz starts with a trip to the Maldives and ends with a limitless debit card, now’s the time to press exit. Now that I have the attention of those of us doing love on a “God, abeg” bundle, let’s get into how you can make that woman burn for your broke ass.

    Turn hot poundo and egusi

    Thanks to big daddy T-Pain, your precious ₦10k can barely feed two mouths in the cheapest restaurants these days.

    But with that same amount, you can whip up the baddest pot of egusi and poundo for two. Pro-tip: Send an invite that says, “Hey baby, home-cooked dinner, and it’s your favourite.”

    Street amala date

    The key is to tell her you’re making a “come-with-us” vlog to try the best amala for the tenth time.  She’ll jump on the offer quicker than she deeps that your ass is cheap. Plus, who knows? Y’all might even go viral together and get social media fame.

    Window shopping 

    Hop buses to fancy malls and let her imagine a future where she’s flexing everything her eyes have feasted on. She’ll return home basking in the delight of your grand future together.

    Hire a paranra player

    Forget Instagram vendors, paranra players are cheaper if you approach them directly. With ₦5k, they’ll play John Legend’s entire album for your understanding madam. Also, buy panadol extra because you’ll both need it. 

    Stargazing date

    This one works if you’re a student in a Nigerian federal university with lots of picturesque spots. Spend the ₦10k on cookies and drinks, grab a thick blanket, head to the spot and whisper sweet nothings in her ears as y’all stare into the sky.

    Movie night at home

    If you actually deep it, it makes no sense to go to the cinemas. No, because how will y’all share warm kisses or do hot tlof-tlof when the movie gets boring halfway? Your understanding babe will get this when you pitch the idea of staying home for “tudum” on your android phone. 

    Suya date

    Listen, a suya date is so slept on. It’s budget-friendly because there’s no way y’all will finish N10k worth of suya. However, for that element of romance, get the Mai Suya to rizz up your understanding babe in Hausa. She’ll never forget the date. 

    Beer parlour date

    Your local bar won’t have as much action as a Quillox or Secret Palace, but at least no one will make you feel lesser than or make your precious jewel see all she’s missing by riding it out with you. 

     [ad]

    Crash an Owambe

    You know what actually makes perfect sense? Gate crashing an owambe with your babe. You’ll only need to tip the servers to get an endless supply of everything on the menu. Might sound cringe at first but one thing about an understanding babe? She’ll reason with you even if it means doing mogbo moya. 

    Library date

    On countless occasions, Hollywood and Bollywood movies have shown you can find love in the library. So, doesn’t having a date in one makes total sense? Especially in the romance fiction section? You’ll only have to spend the ₦10k on snacks and drinks.

    Read this next: I’ll Never Date Someone Who Earns Less Than Me Again

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Shola: I saw her for the first time at a friend’s wedding in 1993. 

    She was wearing a bright yellow lace iro and buba, looking like the sun itself. She was much younger—just 18 or 19—but something about her energy drew me in. I didn’t talk to her at first; I wasn’t one to approach women like that, but I kept watching her from across the hall.

    Eva: Yes, I was young—barely 18—and honestly, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’d just started university, so I was focused on my studies. When I met Shola, I didn’t see him as husband material. I thought he was too serious. 

    When did you actually meet?

    Shola: A few weeks later, I saw her at another gathering and made my move. I was in my prime, already established in my career, so I knew what I wanted, and I could tell she’d make a good wife. 

    Eva: There was something about him that felt stable. He wasn’t like the boys I knew who were still figuring themselves out. Shola had his life together, and that was… attractive in a way I didn’t fully understand then. My mum always said I was too naive, too easily swept up by men’s charms, but I just thought I could make it work.  

    And did you make it work?

    Shola: Well, we did make it work… at first. I didn’t even notice the age gap back then. I just thought she was the kind of woman who could grow into a role, into a marriage, and support me like my mother supported my father. Isn’t that what most of us were looking for back then?  

    Eva: But I didn’t know myself yet. That’s what people don’t talk about. I was still becoming “Eva.” At the time, I thought I was mature enough to handle the weight of being a wife, but looking back, I had no idea what I was getting into.

    Did you get married soon after meeting?

    Shola: Back in the ’90s, relationships weren’t as complicated as they are now. There wasn’t all this back and forth with “talking stages” and whatnot. Once I met Eva and knew she was the one, I made my intentions clear. But we didn’t rush; we didn’t marry until 1996. 

    What did you do for three years?

    Shola: We… courted, you could say. I wasn’t one for long, drawn-out relationships, but I respected that she was still young and in school. I gave her the space to finish her studies, but I also wanted her to know that marriage was the end goal. There was no playing around.

    Eva: Courting is a generous word for what we were doing! 

    You have to understand, I was 18 when we started. I had no idea what I was doing, and honestly, it wasn’t some grand romantic love story in the beginning. 

    What was it like then?

    Shola: I remember the first time I took her to meet my parents in the first year. My mother—God rest her soul—immediately liked her. She said Eva had a quiet strength about her, and she looked like someone who could keep a home. You know how our mothers are. 

    Eva: Shola was serious, yes, but I was still caught up in the excitement of university and hanging out with my friends. I liked him, and I thought, “Okay, maybe this could be something.” But he was traditional. I remember when he told me outright, “I’m not dating for fun. I’m with you to marry.” And I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

    Shola: You were playing hard to get, Eva.

    Eva: I wasn’t playing. I was genuinely unsure. 

    In what ways were you unsure?

    Eva: Like I said earlier, I didn’t know myself. I didn’t really understand what it meant to be a wife. I was barely 21 when we got married; I was still figuring out who I was. Shola had this clear idea of what a wife should be—supportive, nurturing, someone who could focus on the home while he focused on his career. And I tried to fit into that, but I was still a girl growing into a woman. I didn’t fully realise it until I hit my 30s and started resenting how much I’d put aside for our marriage.

    What did people around you say at the time?

    Eva: My friends thought I was crazy for even considering marriage so young. There were times when I felt like I needed to slow things down, but in our culture, especially then, you didn’t just casually date for years. I think I was pressured, not by Shola necessarily, but by society, my family, even myself. I thought marriage would bring me stability.

    Shola: My friends were a little sceptical about the age gap too, but no one really said much. Back then, it wasn’t unusual for a man my age to marry a younger woman.

    Tell me more about this courting/dating period

    Eva: It was a mix of spending time with each other’s families, and—if I’m being honest—me struggling to balance my school life and the subtle, growing expectation of marriage. 

    Shola: I knew I was already set in my career and life, but I gave her time to finish school. Looking back, maybe I should’ve given even more space. 

    Eva: I remember people always asking me when the wedding would be, even before I’d finished my final exams. It was a lot of pressure for a young woman. But I also convinced myself that I could balance both—marriage and my future. That was… naive.

    Yeah, he was set. But I wasn’t.

    When did you realise that you weren’t in fact “set”?

    Eva: I think it really hit me around my early 30s, maybe ten or 11 years into the marriage. 

    That’s when everything I’d pushed down—my dreams, the version of myself I thought I’d become—just started bubbling up. You know how, in your 20s, you feel like you have all the time in the world? I’d been so focused on being a “good wife,” raising the kids, managing the household, and supporting Shola that I didn’t stop to think about what I wanted for myself.

    Shola: I didn’t know she felt that way at the time. I thought everything was fine.

    Why?

    Shola: It just didn’t add up to me. We never talked about it either.

    Eva: That’s the thing. We were living in different worlds. You were doing well, providing for the family, and from the outside, everything looked perfect. But inside, I was drifting. 

    Weren’t you doing things too, Eva?

    Eva: I only worked for a year then the kids came back-to-back, so it made sense to leave work. Shola could afford to take care of us on his salary alone. But I soon started to feel like I didn’t get the chance to know myself outside of marriage and parenting. I was a wife, a mother, but I wasn’t *me* anymore. 

    Was there a defining moment when this dawned on you?

    Eva: If I must pick one, there was an evening maybe in 2005, when I’d just put the kids to bed, and I was sitting in the living room, scrolling through Facebook, a big deal back then. I started seeing people I knew before, who seemed to be making so much impact outside of their families. 

    And I just felt… lost. 

    Shola: I thought we had a solid marriage, a nice house, good kids, everything in order, and suddenly, Eva was talking about feeling lost? It felt like a slap in the face. I mean, I’d been working hard to provide for the family, to give us stability, and now, you’re telling me you’re not happy?

    Eva: I realised then that I wasn’t “set.” I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I’d been living according to everyone else’s expectations—my mother’s, Shola’s, even society’s—but not my own. That night, I broke down and cried. It was so random, but it was the first time I allowed myself to feel everything I’d been pushing aside for years.

    How did you respond to this revelation, Shola?

    Shola: Actually, she didn’t say anything to me at that point.

    Eva: Because I didn’t know how to. We weren’t taught to communicate like that. I didn’t even know what to say. All I knew was I felt like I was slowly disappearing. I wasn’t unhappy exactly, but I wasn’t fulfilled either.

    So how did things progress?

    Eva: It got worse when I started a baking business in 2007. On the surface, it was a success, but deep down, I knew it was plan B. I’d wanted to go back to school and get a second degree, but by then, it felt too late. I had to be practical, right? We had bills, the kids needed to go to good schools, and Shola was still climbing his career ladder. 

    So I put my dreams on the back burner.

    Shola: After she started the business and finally shared what pushed her to do it, I was confused—and, if I’m being honest, angry. Not because of the business but because of how she felt about her life at the time. I didn’t understand where all of that was coming from. 

    What was your reaction?

    Shola: I remember I said something like, “What do you mean you’re not fulfilled? You run a business, you’re raising our children, we’re not struggling, so what’s the problem?” It didn’t make sense to me at the time because, as a man, you’re taught that as long as you’re doing your part—working hard, bringing money home, keeping the family together—that’s enough. 

    I didn’t see the cracks forming because, to me, those weren’t even cracks.

    Eva: But it wasn’t just about the material things. I needed more than a roof over my head and school fees for the kids. I needed to feel like my life had meaning beyond the roles I was playing as a wife and mother. And I know that’s hard for you to understand because, in your world, those things were everything.

    Were you able to get past this?

    Shola: Honestly, no.

    In my mind, I was doing everything right. I didn’t cheat, I wasn’t the type to go out late drinking with friends. I wasn’t abusive. We had it good. So when she started talking about feeling unfulfilled, I felt like she was… ungrateful. Like she didn’t appreciate all the sacrifices I’d made for our family.

    Eva: He’d always tell me to stop comparing myself to other people, especially the women who were still chasing careers. 

    One time, he said, “Those women aren’t even in happy marriages like you are.” And I remember feeling so small because I didn’t have the words to explain that I didn’t just want a “happy marriage.” I wanted more for myself.

    Shola: I’ll admit, I was young and defensive. I started listing out everything I’d done for us—the sacrifices, the work, all of it. I was thinking, “You’re talking about finding yourself? What about finding time to appreciate me?” At the time, I saw it as a personal attack, as though I was failing as a husband.

    Eva, why do you think starting the business didn’t make it better?

    Eva: I’m not sure. Maybe the damage had already been done to my sense of self-worth and our relationship as a whole. 

    Baking was just a hobby I decided to make money off to keep myself busy. It wasn’t something I was passionate about the way he was about his investment banking, and stoked to go into the office every day like it was cocaine. That’s a major thing that triggered my emptiness, watching him for years, doing something he was deeply passionate about and getting value from it.

    Shola: It took me a while to realise marriage isn’t just about fulfilling basic roles—it’s about both partners growing together. At that point, though, I wasn’t ready to admit that maybe I wasn’t doing enough in that area.

    Eva: I needed us to connect emotionally, to feel like we were still growing together. I needed to be seen as more than just “Shola’s wife” or the mother of your children. I didn’t know how to express that properly back then, and I think that’s why things fell apart.

    Fell apart?

    Eva: I asked for a divorce towards the end of 2016. 

    The last of our kids had gone to the UK to join his siblings in college, and my sister convinced me to move so I could be a closer support system for them. It was as I considered what I needed to do to transfer my life from Nigeria to over there that I realised not much connected me to Shola any longer.

    Shola: At that point, we were civil, but we barely spoke. When we bought our house in 2012 and moved in, we took separate rooms. That was just it.

    Eva: I raised the idea of divorce with my sister, and she surprised me by validating it as a sensible next step—a fresh start. 

    Our divorce was finalised in 2018.

    So you just accepted her request for divorce, Shola?

    Shola: I didn’t see it coming, or maybe I didn’t want to see it. In Nigeria, we don’t get divorced. In my mind, no matter how bad things got, divorce wasn’t an option. You separate, you give each other space, maybe things cool off for a while, but divorce? No. 

    I remember telling her, “We don’t do this. We don’t break up families over feelings.” I was holding onto the belief that if I just stayed the course, eventually, she’d change her mind. But then she started sending papers and talking about moving to the UK.

    Eva: I didn’t make that decision lightly. I’d felt disconnected for years, and every time I tried to express it, it was like I was hitting a wall. He was so focused on what marriage looked like to the outside world that he couldn’t see what was happening inside.

    What happened when you saw she was serious, Shola?

    Shola: I was angry. Really angry. 

    I felt like she was abandoning me, like after all the years we put in, she was just throwing it all away. My friends, my family, they all told me the same thing: “Don’t sign the papers. She’ll come back to her senses.” Even my mother, God bless her, kept saying, “A woman’s place is with her husband. She’ll realise what she’s doing is wrong.” But she didn’t.

    Eva: By 2016, I knew staying in the marriage was only making me more resentful. I wasn’t being fair to you or myself. I didn’t want our kids to see us just going through the motions, pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

    How did your kids react to the news?

    Shola: The kids… well, that was probably the hardest part. They took it differently, but it was tough on all of them. Our eldest didn’t talk to me much during the process. He was closer to his mother, and I think he blamed me for everything that was going on. There was a lot of tension between us during that time.

    Eva: He’d grown up seeing us as a unit, and suddenly, we weren’t that anymore. He told me once, “Mum, why didn’t you just talk to Dad? Why didn’t you guys work it out?” And that broke my heart because he didn’t understand that it wasn’t for lack of trying. He was angry at both of us for a while.

    I can imagine

    Shola: The other two took it much worse. 

    I’ll never forget one evening, shortly after Eva had relocated with them, Kemi called me crying. She said she missed how things were, and she didn’t understand why we couldn’t just fix it. I didn’t know what to say to her because, honestly, I didn’t understand it fully either. I was still coming to terms with everything myself.

    Eva: Kemi would often say she missed her dad, but whenever Shola called or visited, she’d be distant.

    So the divorce went through? What led you back to each other then?

    Eva: It wasn’t like one of those grand epiphanies you see in movies; we just reconnected thanks to the pandemic. 

    After the divorce, we didn’t talk much except when it was about the kids. I was living in the UK, and Shola was still in Lagos. Honestly, I thought that was it. I was focused on starting over—getting my life back together, and he was doing his own thing. But COVID happened, everyone was locked in, and suddenly there was all this time and space for reflection. 

    I think it was around April 2020 when he called out of the blue. 

    Shola: I realised how much I missed Eva during the lockdown. I was home alone in Lagos, my friends were all in their houses with their families, and I didn’t have the kids around for company. It was just me and my thoughts, and I kept thinking about her. Not as my ex-wife, but as someone who’d been a huge part of my life for so long. 

    The more I thought about it, the more I realised a lot of our issues had come from not really talking. I was always so focused on my job and friends, I didn’t listen to her enough.

    [ad]

    What was said during this call?

    Eva: I remember feeling irritated at first. Like, “What does he want now?” But the conversation wasn’t about logistics or the kids—it was just… us. We talked for hours that night. It was so strange because, after years of bitterness, anger, and silence, there was this sudden openness. I won’t say I forgave everything right away, but we started talking regularly. It became a thing. I’d look forward to his calls.

    Shola: The first call… I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it was easier than I thought. We laughed about old times. We didn’t jump straight back into a romantic relationship; that would’ve been impossible. We had a lot of issues to sort through, a lot of resentment to unpack.

    Did you figure out exactly what?

    Eva: Yes. Like how I felt unsupported, or how he felt like I’d changed after the kids came.

    It was hard at first because Shola has never been one to openly express his emotions. He’s the typical Yoruba man—everything is done in silence, with pride. But during those lockdown conversations, he was more vulnerable than I’d ever heard him before. He admitted to things I thought he’d never acknowledge, like how he wished he’d done more when I was trying to balance school, the kids, and the bakery. That meant a lot to me.

    How did you sustain this new energy after the pandemic eased up?

    Eva: When the world opened up again, I didn’t just pack my bags and move back. We visited each other a few times in 2021, and it felt nice, like we were rebuilding something that’d been lost. Suddenly, I felt this pang of “divorce regret” that wouldn’t go away. It kept reminding me that he didn’t do anything wrong; I only needed to find myself outside him, and now, I had.

    When I finally moved back to Nigeria in 2022, we decided to take things slow. We started dating again. I honestly don’t know how that happened. We went out, spent time with family. I think what really helped was that we no longer had the pressure of the kids living with us. They were in the UK, and we could just focus on each other.

    Shola: The truth is I’d never given up on our marriage. Divorce was just a formality; I’d never stop seeing her as my wife. 

    We just learnt how to talk about the things we avoided before. It wasn’t about assigning blame anymore, but about acknowledging how we both failed each other and figuring out how not to make those same mistakes.

    When did the idea of a remarriage come up?

    Shola: During the Christmas holiday of 2022, I felt she was ready. 

    I hosted a group of friends for dinner, and she was the last to leave, so I just asked her, “Should we do this again?” She smiled, and it was amazing how she immediately knew what I meant. That was it. We remarried quietly in a church service in early 2023. No big fanfare, just family and close friends.

    Eva: We needed to know we’d both grown enough to give it another shot. Now, it’s not about trying to be the perfect couple, but about being better than we were before. We communicate more, and we’ve learnt to respect each other’s individuality.

    On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life now?

    Eva: I’d say a solid 7. I know that might sound low to some people, especially after all we’ve been through. But marriage—especially the second time around—isn’t about perfection for me anymore.Shola: For me, 8. I agree with Eva, but we’re in a much better and easier place than we were during our first marriage.

  • Three things should happen when you receive a call or text from your best friend: laugh, smile like a fool and respond ASAPingly. But these things can only happen if you’re intentional about how you saved their name in your contact list. Don’t know where to start? This list has some of the most hilarious and hilarious names to save your best friend’s contact.

    Names for your male best friend

    40 Hilarious Names to Save Your Best Friend’s Contact in Your Phone

    Gee

    This is short for my guy.

    Chief

    For the best friend you met a football viewing centre and never bothered to ask for his real name

    Wavy

    If he’s always the highest in the room. 

    Ovy

    If your best friend doesn’t like his government name, Ovie.

    Alaga

    If your best friend is an egbon adugbo.

    Musty

    If your friend doesn’t like his real government name, Mustapha.

    Bad guy

    If he’s the bad influence that threatens your heavenly race. 

    Zaddy

    In the rare chance he’s a friend with benefit.

    Don Pablo

    If your best friend is into yahoo yahoo.

    Rotam

    Save your best friend’s name with this if he doesn’t like Chukwurotam. 

    OG

    Use this name if your best friend is older than you.

    Sinzu Money

    Use only if your best friend is rich rich. 

    Nightcrawler

    Save your best friend’s name like this if he’s always dragging you to nightclubs.

    Carter

    If your friend who’s never left Nigeria has an American accent.

    Little finger

    If you’ve got a sneaky AF negro as your best friend. 

    Fly guy

    Use this if your best friend is fashionable AF.

    Declan

    If your male bestie thinks of himself as a professional footballer.

    Caveman

    If you’ve got a male best friend who dreads going out.

    Sly

    For your male bestie who’s always bailing on plans.

    Names to save your female best friend’s name

    40 Hilarious Names to Save Your Best Friend’s Contact in Your Phone

    Angel

    If she’s your God-sent guardian angel cosplaying your bestie. 

    Arike

    If she’s always linking you up with rich yahoo boys.

    Bestie

    If she’s the number one bestie above all others.

    Best

    If she’s the second closest friend to you. 

    Babes

    If she’s a girl’s girl.

    Barbz

    Save your female bestie’s name with this if she’s a Nicki Minaj fan.

    Ginika

    If your best friend doesn’t like her real name, Oginikachi.

    Baby girl 

    Is she not your baby?

    Tipha

    If she cringes anytime people call her Latifat. 

    Queen

    If she’s got some royal blood in her. 

    Giggles

    This is the perfect name for your best friend if she laughs more than she talks.

    Sunshine

    If she brightens up your world.

    Munchkin

    It’s one of the cutest names to save your best friend’s contact with if she’s a sweet soul. 

    Boo

    This one is oldie but goldie.

    Rashy

    If she doesn’t like her government name, Rasheedat.

    Princess 

    For your female bestie who acts like she’s from royalty.

    Queen Lizzy

    If she enjoys correcting your English.

    My homegirl

    If she’s dependable AF.

    Honim

    This is the Igbo version of “Honey”.

    Ore

    Basically means “friend” in Yoruba.

    Enjoyed this piece about names to save your best friend’s contact? Read this next: Weird Names Nigerian Parents Give Their Children

  • I was looking to speak with women whose struggles with PCOS have affected their relationships when I found Ife*(31). 

    She shares how painful period cramps in university made her the centre of unwanted attention and ultimately robbed her of her closest friends.

    I’ve Lost Friendships Because of Terrible Period Cramps

    As told to Adeyinka

    There are many things I don’t like remembering about my experience in uni, but my painful periods top the list.

    The first time I experienced extreme period cramps was in 200 level. I had just moved into a self-contained hostel with my coursemate, who had become my closest friend. Before then, my period pains were moderate and manageable, with felvin medication and tea usually doing the trick.

    But this time, it was different. One morning, I woke up with heavy blood stains on my bed and excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. I brushed it off, thinking I had overindulged in sweets before my period, cleaned up, and took some felvin. 

    But as the day went on, the pain worsened, and I started feeling dizzy. I called my roommate, who had left earlier for class, to return and help me get to the clinic. I hated inconveniencing her, but we were practically like sisters at that point, and there was no one else I could have called.

    At the clinic, the nurse asked if I’d ever had such intense pain before. I hadn’t. They gave me an injection, and within minutes, the pain subsided. I returned for a second dose the next day, and by the third day, everything seemed normal. I was relieved, thinking it was a one-time thing. 

    I had no idea the worst was yet to come.

    The following month, the pain came back tenfold. It was indescribable—almost like someone clawing at my insides with nails. It was so bad that I woke up one morning on the floor clutching my stomach, screaming, crying and rolling back and forth. 

    My roommate panicked when she saw me. She rushed out of our room and returned with some other female hostel mates, but no one knew what to do until someone suggested taking me to the clinic again. I can’t remember the events that played out afterwards, but I woke up later at the clinic with my roommate by my side. She’d called my parents, and as soon as I was awake, she redialed them so I could speak to them.

    After that episode, the pain became a regular occurrence. I started dreading my period because it came with embarrassment. Everyone in the hostel always knew when I was on my period because of the constant screaming. Even some okada riders and nurses knew me on a first-name basis. 

    I became a “monthly regular” at the clinic, and people began making weird remarks. One nurse even suggested that I might have a “spirit husband” causing the pain and invited me to her church for deliverance. Although I didn’t pay much mind to her, there were times I considered the possibility of the entire thing being spiritual.

    While all these went on, I started to notice a shift in my roommate. She was always there when I wasn’t on my period, but when it started or she knew it was almost my time of the month, she would make herself unavailable. 

    She’d stay with another friend for an entire week or come home very late on the days she chooses to stay in the hostel. I could’ve sworn she was monitoring my cycle because her timing for the visits and long nights always seemed too much of a coincidence. 

    I was hurt and lonely but also understood. Once, I fainted during a bad episode, and my roommate was really freaked out. I woke up to people in my room and she was in a corner crying. That week, she didn’t really say much to me, she just became distant. 

    When we had a conversation, she admitted she was scared, saying she didn’t know what she would’ve done if something worse had happened. Honestly, I don’t think her reaction was far-fetched—there were times I thought the pain would kill me.

    [ad]

    It wasn’t just my roommate who withdrew. Some of my other friends also distanced themselves. I always tell myself that it wasn’t out of malice or callousness; they were just scared and didn’t know how to help. Looking back, I can’t blame them. We were all in our early twenties, and none of us had the experience to deal with such health emergencies.

    After 200 level, my roommate moved out of the hostel. She made excuses about needing privacy because she was dating, but I knew the real reason. We didn’t talk much after that because I still felt hurt by her decision to move out.

    In 2018, during my NYSC, I was finally diagnosed with PCOS. A women’s health NGO came to camp offering free consultations, and they referred me to a specialist hospital after hearing my symptoms. 

    Since starting medication and making some lifestyle changes, the pain has lessened, but there are still days when it gets bad. I scared my husband two years ago when the pain hit in the middle of the night. He had to call some of our older neighbours for help. But at least with him, I know he won’t up and leave like my friends did.


    Are you looking for more information about PCOS? Famasi Africa has worked on a resource, and it’s full of practical tips and essentials for Nigerian women navigating PCOS. Find it here.

    Read this next: A Fake Genotype Result Cost Me the Love of My Life

  • If you want screenshots of your legendary pick-up lines to go viral on social media and become a reference for other man dem who want to bag baddies, this article is for you. We asked Chat GPT how to rizz up a girl, and let’s just say AI might be up to something. 

    But first, what even is rizz?

    Rizz means charisma. It’s what the gals dem make of you when you approach them to flirt. Now, how do you avoid giving the rizz of a married man who drives a space bus or one who’s been single for years? That’s where AI comes in. 

    How to rizz a girl up online

    How to Rizz A Girl Up, According to Chat GPT

    Asking a girl out via text means you’ll have to do double the work since many other things are likely fighting for her attention. 

    Be funny AF

    If there’s any situation where being a comedian works, this is it. Open the chat thread with a pick up line that’ll have her respond quicker than she intends to.

    Throw in some word play

    Don’t give basic compliments when she posts a photo. Consider lines like “You look like you’re from Manchester. Can we be united?” or “I have 206 bones in my body but when I look at you, I have 207.”

    Be generous with compliments 

    Make sure they’re genuine compliments that come as a result of paying close attention. Although you might get away with some sweet lies, it’s not always the case. 

    Be subtle but direct

    Say something like, “I don’t usually message people first, but for some reason, I just couldn’t help myself with you,” and watch her text immediately.

    Create fun scenarios 

    “I’ve been thinking…let’s skip the small talk and fast forward to the part where we’re sipping juice and arguing over the best pizza toppings.” 

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    How to rizz a girl up in person

    How to Rizz A Girl Up, According to Chat GPT

    Thanks to all the gestures and micro-expressions you can use, rizzing a girl up in a face-to-face situation is much easier.

    Look the part

    Please don’t look like a dead guy because you’ll do double the work to change the narrative if you make the wrong first impression. If your outfit isn’t giving, postpone that meet up.

    Always maintain eye contact 

    Because how will she believe you can give her the world if you fail at something as simple as looking into her eyes?

    Ask permission for physical touch

    Yes, you’ve forced yourself to see an imaginary speck of dirt on her face. Don’t just invade her personal space. Ask. “There’s something on your chick, can I remove it?” Consent is sexy AF. 

    Know when to leave

    Don’t be an Oliver Twist who wants to cross all the to-dos in one meet. Leave room for a little mystery by dashing off early and leaving her to wonder when she’ll see you again.

    Enjoyed this piece on how to rizz a girl up? Read this next: How Gen-Z Nigerians Flirt

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Joke: I knew Makin from a distance during our university days. He was in a different department and two years ahead of me, but I usually saw him at a popular study hub close to school. 

    Makin held mathematics tutorials for fellow students, and he continued even after he graduated. I had to retake a maths course in 300 level, and that’s how I became one of his students in 2017.

    Makin: I noticed Joke because she was easily one of my smartest students — and beautiful, of course — and I was curious about how she got a carryover. We started talking, and our conversations moved from academics to general life. It became a tradition for her to wait for me after class so we could talk as I walked her to her hostel. 

    She retook the course and passed, but we remained friends.

    When did friendship graduate to something else?

    Makin: The following year, I got a job at an offshore company in another state and couldn’t talk to Joke during the first two weeks because there was no network signal on the rig. I didn’t get myself throughout that period. I missed her so much.

    Joke: It was the longest we’d gone without talking to each other. I missed him, but I didn’t want to think about it too much. He hadn’t hinted at anything beyond friendship, and I didn’t want to start catching feelings. But that changed when he returned from the rig.

    Makin: I went straight to her hostel the moment I landed back in the state. I didn’t even go home to change. Two weeks away from her made me realise what I felt was more than friendship, and I had to tell her immediately.

    How did you react, Joke?

    Joke: I was pleasantly surprised but also really excited. I hadn’t let myself consider the possibility of us being together, but there he was, energetically confessing his feelings. He asked me to be his girlfriend, we kissed, and the relationship officially started. 

    What were the early days like?

    Joke: Makin was very intentional. Whenever he wasn’t on the rig, he spent time with me. We talked a lot about our future, went out on dates, and he wrote me little love notes. When NYSC sent me to the North in 2018, he took quarterly flights to come and be with me.

    That’s why it was a huge surprise when I found out he cheated.

    Makin: I made a mistake, Joke. It wasn’t exactly cheating.

    Joke: Really?

    Okay, wait. What actually happened?

    Joke: We were discussing an investment scheme someone had told him about on one of his visits to my base. The lady had sent some of the information to his WhatsApp, so he gave me his phone to read it. Out of curiosity, I scrolled up to see what his communication with this lady was like, and I saw that they’d been sexting.

    Makin: It happened only once with her. The lady and I had a fling years before I met Joke, but it fizzled out, and we remained casual friends. The sexting thing happened because Joke and I were going through a rough patch, and I lost my head for a bit. But it’s not an excuse for what I did. 

    What caused the rough patch, though?

    Makin: Joke is a very opinionated woman, and I’m more traditional. I expect that while a couple can have different views, the man should ultimately make the final decision. This doesn’t always sit well with Joke.

    During that period, we’d argued over what would happen if she didn’t get a job in the state where we lived or where I worked. I argued that it made more sense for her to move to the state where I worked, but she didn’t think we had to settle there because it wouldn’t exactly make the distance shorter. I’d still travel to the rig for weeks at a time.  

    It became an issue, and we didn’t talk for a whole day. That’s another issue with Joke —when she’s angry, she becomes withdrawn. 

    Joke: So, I guess the solution was running to another woman? 

    Makin: I’m sorry.


    Help Shape Nigeria’s Biggest Love Report! We’re asking Nigerians about relationships, marriage, sex, money, and everything in between. Your anonymous answers will become a landmark report on modern Nigerian love. Click here to take the survey. It’s 100% anonymous.


    How did you both get past this?

    Joke: He begged for days, swore it’d never happen again and even involved my mum. We both come from closely-knit families, and our parents knew about us almost as soon as we started dating. Makin is especially close to my mum, so he called and asked her to beg me. He didn’t tell her what he did, though.

    I forgave him after a week. I considered it a first-time slip-up and thought I shouldn’t let it destroy what we had. He was still kind and loving and appeared truly sorry. 

    Makin: I was truly sorry. Since those first two weeks on the rig, I’ve known I want to spend the rest of my life with Joke, and I couldn’t afford to lose her. Thankfully, we moved past it and got married in 2019.

    How has marriage been?

    Joke: A mistake.

    Makin: I haven’t been the best husband, but I love Joke and want to make things right.

    I’m lost now. Why do you consider marriage a mistake, Joke?

    Joke: We’ve had several misunderstandings due to our slightly different views on gender roles. Makin thinks he should have the final say, but I think I should be allowed to disagree. I expect him to offer to help with chores when he’s home — emphasis on “offer” because I’ll likely tell him not to bother. It’s just the thought that counts. But he doesn’t think I should expect that of him.

    Makin: I don’t have a problem with helping out. It’s the tone of her voice when she makes these complaints. She often makes it seem like I’m sitting doing nothing and just watching her do all the chores, but I chip in sometimes. Plus, she works remotely, and I’m not always home. Surely, she shouldn’t mind catering to me for the weeks we’re together.

    Joke: I hear that, and over the years, I’ve deliberately tried to reduce the complaints. Of course, we still clashed a few times, but I think that’s normal in a marriage. Couples will always have minor misunderstandings. But that’s not why I think marrying Makin was a mistake; it’s because of the cheating.

    Has there been another cheating episode?

    Joke: More like episodes. I caught him sexting two more people at different points over the years. The first one happened six months into our marriage. The second one was just after we celebrated our third anniversary. Each time, he promised it’d never happen again.

    Makin: I really wanted to tell Joke before she found the chats on my phone. I know I have a weakness for women, which becomes worse whenever my wife and I aren’t on good terms. 

    Both cases were stupid lapses in judgment, and I didn’t clear the chats because I wanted to come clean. But I was scared of telling Joke; I didn’t want her to leave me. I know now that was a foolish justification because I had no one to talk to when my weakness almost destroyed my marriage.

    What happened?

    Makin: I had an affair with someone from work last year.

    Joke: Let me give you the gory details. Makin slept with a subordinate at work for seven months and only stopped when a colleague caught them going at it in the office.

    Hmm. How did you find out, Joke?

    Joke: He came clean when he got fired a week later. I was heartbroken. I couldn’t believe Makin would actually go that far. His begging and grovelling only made me angrier, so I packed out of the house and moved in with my mum.

    Makin: I’ll forever be sorry for hurting Joke. She doesn’t believe me, but I never intended to break her heart and trust that way. I desperately tried to end the affair several times and even avoided the lady, but somehow, I kept going back.

    Joke: It was that good, abi?

    Makin: No, babe. I was just stupid, please. I’m really sorry.

    This was last year, and you’re still together now. Does that mean you’ve returned home, Joke?

    Joke: Yes. I returned home after three months. I’d already started looking for a divorce lawyer, but Makin and my mum kept pleading with me. Honestly, my mum is the only reason we’re still together. She’s hypertensive, and she was constantly worrying about her only daughter being a divorcee. I didn’t want anything to affect her health negatively.

    Makin, how does it feel knowing Joke doesn’t really want to be in this marriage?

    Makin: I have no choice but to accept it. But I also see an opportunity to rebuild Joke’s love and trust. She has every reason to hate me, but I just want her to see that I’m a new man. The whole ordeal with my workplace led me to God, and I’ve rededicated my life to Christ. I want to build a home that both God and my wife are proud of. I don’t mind how long it takes. 

    Joke: This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this, though the God part is new. Every time it happens, he claims he’s a changed man and swears on his life that it’ll never happen again. Yet he somehow does something worse after.

    I honestly feel I’ll regret coming back. Apart from my mum, you’re the only person I’ve told about this. Because how do I tell people I let a man play in my face, not once or twice?

    Hmm.

    Joke: I didn’t even share how learning about the affair drove me to depression. I kept wondering if I wasn’t enough. I contributed equally to home expenses and even bought him his car— the same one he used to carry his little girlfriend around. I never denied this man sex. Wasn’t I doing it well enough for him? 

    Or, is it because we still don’t have a child? The doctor said Makin was the problem, but was an affair his way of trying his luck somewhere else? I kept wishing I could rewind time so I’d have left the first time he cheated. Anything to stop this mistake of a marriage from happening in the first place.

    It took several months before I came to terms with the fact that I couldn’t blame myself for his actions. I’m still pained, but it was his decision to do what he did. My focus now is on myself and my career. I may still be in this marriage, but I can’t pretend that the love is still here.

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    Have you both considered marriage counselling?

    Makin: I suggested it when Joke first returned home, but I was unemployed, and Joke wasn’t interested in paying for it. However, I got a new job a few months ago and I’m trying to convince Joke to let us talk to a counsellor. 

    Joke: I think it will be a waste of time. Talking about the affairs for an extended period of time will only bring back the pain. Plus, counselling is like saying we want to work to rebuild our union. I don’t want to dedicate my efforts and emotions to repairing our connection because it’ll only hurt more when he cheats again. 

    Makin: Believe me, babe. It’ll never happen again.

    Joke: Right. 

    What’s your marriage like these days?

    Joke: We’re basically roommates who have sex with each other. Makin has been trying to be more helpful around the house and buys me things to win my love back. It works sometimes and for a few days, I like him again. But then I remember and it hurts all over again. I can’t afford to love or trust him because it won’t end well for me.

    Makin: Things are still very up and down right now, but I see it as me needing to put in more work to get Joke back. I can’t live without her, and I’ll keep trying until she believes I’ll never hurt her again.

    How would you rate your Love Life on a scale of 1 to 10?

    Joke: 2. This wasn’t the life I envisioned in marriage, and I would be long gone if not for my mum.
    Makin: 4. We’re a work in progress. I know I messed things up, but I believe we can still be happy again.

    Check back every Thursday by 9 AM for new Love Life stories here. The stories will also be a part of the Ships newsletter, so sign up here.


    Help Shape Nigeria’s Biggest Love Report! We’re asking Nigerians about relationships, marriage, sex, money, and everything in between. Your anonymous answers will become a landmark report on modern Nigerian love. Click here to take the survey. It’s 100% anonymous.