When Dami* got married, the last thing he expected to threaten his marriage was a crush on another woman. But it happened.
The 44-year-old shares how he almost lost his 10-year marriage and the steps he’s now taking to ensure he’s never in that situation again.
As told to Boluwatife
Image created by Canva AI
When my wife, Nike*, and I married in 2006, I thought I knew everything necessary for a long, healthy and loving marriage.
I don’t say that out of pride; I actually put in the work to ensure we lived happily ever after. Years before I met Nike in 2004, I’d started reading marriage books and praying for my lifetime partner. I attended seminars and relationship workshops and listened to sermons about marriage.
I did all that because I knew my marriage would be a big part of my life and ministry. Born to parents who are both pastors, I caught my ministerial calling early, and all my life, I’ve seen just how big a role spouses play in the ministry. I saw it with my mum, senior friends and the pastors I admired.
For the Christian in ministry, there’s a limit to how much you can do if you don’t have a happy home. You can’t be preaching everywhere if you’re keeping malice with your spouse or they aren’t happy with you. Or worse, getting married to someone who doesn’t understand why you have to be preaching up and down. So, it was important for me to get it right in marriage.
I met Nike in church. A mutual friend introduced us, and we hit it off. She was funny, beautiful, and loved God. We also had the same values. It took only two weeks of us talking consistently for me to know in my heart that she was the one for me. Of course, I still had to pray and wait for her to be convinced. But getting her answer didn’t take long, and our two-year courtship went smoothly.
It’s not like I thought we’d never have issues after marriage. I knew — and even expected minor disagreements about where to press the toothpaste from and forgetting to buy bread when returning home. But there was no room for things like infidelity, lies or anything that could betray trust. And most importantly, no divorce.
It worked out well in the beginning. However, I quickly realised that even minor disagreements could turn into huge fights. There was one argument about soup that turned into a two-day malice competition. See ehn, in marriage, your theoretical knowledge has to bow down for reality. But we still worked through the frictions and were mostly happy and healthy.
However, we hit a slump as we approached our tenth year of marriage. Nike resumed work after taking a five-year career break to have our children. I was hardly home because I’d been transferred to a different state to head a new church.
Nike couldn’t join me immediately because she just started work, and we thought she needed to get some work experience before entering the job market again. So, we only saw each other once or twice a month.
That’s where the problem started. I always considered myself immune to being interested in other women. Aside from the fact that I absolutely love my wife and don’t want anything to threaten my home, I also fear God and the institution of marriage.
Maybe it’d have been better if I’d admitted to myself that I wasn’t Superman. It might’ve saved all the wahala I brought on myself.
Soon after moving to the new state, I found myself keeping late hours more than I did back home. My work at the church was mainly during the day, and I had more free time at night. I’ve always been a night owl, so I passed the time by watching movies, listening to messages or chatting with my wife. The chatting part didn’t always work because my wife was usually exhausted from working and dealing with our kids all day.
That’s how my situation with Gloria* started. Gloria was a former secondary school classmate who found me on Facebook during this period, and we started talking regularly. At first, I was just excited to catch up with someone from secondary school. We swapped stories about our wicked teachers and what our other classmates were up to. It was harmless fun. I even told my wife about her.
I honestly don’t know how it changed from random catching up to daily conversations, but Gloria and I soon started chatting all night. We had a lot in common, and she was really funny. I began to look forward to talking to her.
We even moved to video calls. I liked having someone to share my day with and discuss different things. I realised it was developing into a crush when I no longer wanted to tell my wife when I talked to Gloria. I really, really liked talking to her. But I thought I could still handle it. After all, we weren’t seeing each other physically. Nothing would happen.
Things got a little heated three months into my crush/friendship with Gloria. She’d joked that night about the heat but being unable to dress lighter because she had a phobia of thieves breaking into her house while she was underdressed. I jokingly asked her to send a picture so I could advise her, and she sent a picture of herself wearing an almost transparent nightgown.
I stupidly responded, “Wow. You look amazing.” Alarms went off in my head, and I abruptly ended the conversation. But to be honest, I had illicit thoughts about Gloria that night.
I decided there and then to stop the constant chatting to avoid things going in the wrong direction. But unfortunately for me, my wife came to visit two days later. I planned to come clean and discuss my crush with her, but she found the chats on my phone before I mentioned anything. Gloria had sent another picture — fully clothed this time — and my wife saw the message come in. I’ve never had a password on my phone, so she also saw the nightgown picture and the multiple messages.
Of course, it turned into a big issue. Nike was convinced I’d probably deleted some messages and that I was cheating. She even threatened to leave. It took the intervention of my parents and some of our mentors in church before she could forgive me.
Even after that, we had to do two months of counselling before our relationship returned to fairly normal. It took even longer for me to build the trust again and assure her I’d be completely honest from the start if such ever happened again. I can’t believe I even let a stupid crush almost destroy everything I’d built with my wife.
That was almost 8 years ago. Since then, I’ve had no other crush, but I now understand the importance of talking about it and not even giving the crush a chance to grow in the first place.
Once I notice my communication with one lady is becoming too long or she keeps insisting she wants to meet me for “personal counselling,” I send her straight to my wife. If she can’t share her problem with my wife, I don’t want to hear it.
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
The streets are crazy, but every now and again, you find someone sensible that doesn’t make you want to count all the sand on Elegushi Beach. Someone that makes you temporarily forget that sporting waves is now ₦7,100, spaghetti is ₦1,400, and your country is the weapon fashioned against you.
We’re not saying you’ve met them yet, but when you do, these are the first dates you should take them on.
Traffic navigation
You need to test if they can hold your hand through the tough and difficult situations and guide you right. The best way to do that is by finding the tightest gathering of cars and helping everyone find their way out.
Play bus driver and conductor
We don’t know how you’ll find a bus for free, but when you do, hop in there with your almost bae and be the bus driver to their conductor. You’ll earn money, see the city you’re in and find out if their social skills are in the gutter.
Plan a heist
It really depends on the city you’re in. A heist would be great, but a regular robbery works just as well. Send them into any money making establishment of your choosing and stay right outside as their get away driver. You’ll show them how trustworthy you are and that your driving skills aren’t shit.
You could watch trials and figure out which crimes you would get away with and why, or you could stand outside and give people unsolicited advice on how they can get their loved ones out of the kasala they’ve fallen into.
Go to random construction sites
If you love art or you’re a very judgemental person, take your almost bae to a random construction site and critique everything, from the shape of the house, to the cement being used, to the way the workers are moving the materials.
Follow cars around
If you have a car and enough fuel in it, get in there with the unfortunate soul that has fallen into your trap and just follow cars around. You’ll get to see what weird shit people get up to, or someone will get down from their car and ask you why you’re being a creep. Either way, you’ll both have an experience.
Go to a wedding
We suggest you attend a random one, where neither you or your date know the bride and groom, sit at the back and yell, “I object” when it’s time. You’ll add a lovely spark to people’s special day and possibly get your ass handed to you.
Sip and paint
Find a building that is already being painted and ask the painters if they’ll give you a section to work on. They might say no, but if they say yes, buy sachet gin, get into your most dispensable clothes and start working.
Late night walks
We suggest you only do this if you’ve spoken to potential bae long enough that you trust each other. Wake up at 11:50 p.m, get into your car, drive to your closest cemetery, wait till 2:50 a.m andjust walk around. Bonus points to your date if they caress the headstones while they walk.
Go to the hospital
Think of it like an excursion. Go to the hospital, sit in the waiting area and simply guess why everyone’s there. It’ll show how smart your date is and if you’re in safe hands.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
Let’s talk about your earliest memory of money
That has to be in primary school. Whenever my brothers and I asked my dad for snack money, he’d give me ₦500 and give them ₦200 each. That’s when I began to notice my dad always gave me more money.
I was the second child, but I had the “only girl” privilege. I got a younger sister when I was 8, but I still enjoyed proper spoiling.
Safe to say you were a daddy’s girl?
I believe I still am. It helped that there was money growing up.
What did your parents do for money?
My mum’s a doctor and my dad did a bunch of things — mostly hotel businesses. He also ventured into politics and won a political seat around the time I entered secondary school.
I remember not seeing him regularly because he came home after my bedtime. He also became really lax with money. I think it was a side effect of working with the government because he used to be a bit more prudent.
One time, when I was in JSS 2, he gave me ₦20k for my birthday. I didn’t know what to do with ₦20k, but I collected it. When my siblings and I wanted to go to the movie, he’d also give us ₦20k each. This was 2014, and a movie ticket cost ₦1k.
What were you spending all that money on?
My siblings and I frequented a Nike store at a mall close to where we lived. I’d buy Benassi slides for like ₦5,500. We even had a discount card because we bought so much stuff there.
Many of the purchases were during school holidays, though. I didn’t get an allowance in secondary school, but if I wanted something during the holiday, I’d tell my dad, and he’d give me money. My mum was different; she was far more frugal.
How so?
She had — and still does — this thing where she’d make me and my siblings work for money. Once, she created a point-based system to earn rewards for doing chores. If I did my chores on time, I’d get four points. I got one or zero points if I did them late or not at all. The points determined what she bought me during the holiday.
Apart from this, I didn’t do anything else for money until 2017/2018.
Go on, please
I’d just finished my first year at university. I was in my Jumia shopping phase, and choker necklaces were all the rage. I got a pack of 20 chokers for ₦3k and planned to sell them at ₦1k each.
I sold about half of it, but I couldn’t get buyers for the rest because people were picky with the styles. So, I gave up and tried selling makeup to my friends.
Why makeup?
My friends and I were in our makeup phase in uni. We looked for the newest palettes and constantly tried makeup tutorials, so I knew it’d sell better than the chokers.
I got the makeup products during my usual shopping for school. I think I spent ₦10k for some eyeshadow and bronzer palettes. I only sold one to a girl who paid me ₦4k; my friend took most of them and never paid me. I didn’t try to sell anything again.
This is the second time you’ve mentioned “shopping for school”
Well, I was a boarder in secondary school, so that was a given. In uni, my dad gave me money to shop based on the list I’d already written about things I needed at school — the usual amount was ₦120k. Then, he’d send ₦100k to my account when I was leaving for school. I didn’t have a monthly allowance because I could always call for more money if needed, but I rarely did.
I tried to be frugal in uni because my dad’s tenure in the government ended back when I was in SS 2, and the change hadn’t been a great experience for me.
What happened?
My secondary school was full of super-rich kids, and I wasn’t popular. So, I tried using money to buy affection. My dad was in office, and I had more money than I knew what to do with. I bought people earrings, body wash, and perfume and generally tried to blow their minds.
Then, my dad left office, and the family had to make lifestyle changes. We moved away from where he lived, and he got a bigger place, maybe to overcompensate. But there was less money to throw around, and we just became more serious.
This meant I couldn’t get as many gifts and even reduced some of the things I bought at school. For instance, I liked getting things like spray starch in twos to have a backup, but I now had to settle for one. Someone called me stingy because I didn’t give as much as I used to, and it stung. I decided, “You know what? I’m not spending money on anyone again!”
So yeah, I tried to spend more reasonably in uni. Plus, my university didn’t have as many rich students. It was a private uni, but they were considerate. They gave scholarships and allowed people to pay in instalments. It was like coming from a school with money bags to people who were managing but thriving. So, I modelled my spending after them.
Was that difficult?
There wasn’t anything to spend money on in my uni. The most expensive meal was rice and chicken, which cost ₦600. Smoothies cost ₦300. I didn’t need up to ₦1k for a complete meal. So, copying people who lived on a ₦20k monthly allowance was easy. They withdrew ₦5k/week, so I withdrew ₦5k/week.
Each semester was about three months long, and my ₦100k lasted for two months and some weeks. My dad didn’t let me try to be broke in peace, though. He had access to my account. Whenever the money in my account went below ₦30k, he’d send me ₦50k extra.
Trying to be broke… God, abeg
That was pretty much how uni was. I already knew my dad indulged me, but it hit me again when I was about to enter my second year in uni. I asked for ₦250k to shop, and he gave me just like that.
I grew a conscience and thought it wasn’t fair for him to bankroll me as much as he did, so I reduced my demands.
Also, I started doing makeup for people for money in my third year.
How did that go?
Not great. I did a couple of ₦1k, ₦1500 jobs here and there. Remember my friend who didn’t pay for the palettes? She also did makeup for a fee and had more clients, so I tagged along to assist her. She never gave any cut of the money she made, though. Not even when we made ₦50k on a few jobs in final year. To be fair, they booked her. I just assisted.
I graduated from university in 2020 and began ICAN classes in January 2021. My mum also started giving me a ₦35k allowance to support me during classes.
Any reason why it was your mum this time?
My mum often moved locations because of her job. At that time, she was in a small house I called the “fuck up” house. Like I said, my mum is frugal, so she didn’t subscribe to DSTV, the internet, or any other entertainment. It was simply a place to sleep.
I moved in with her for my ICAN exams because the house was closer to the tutorial centre. Since I was living with her, she took up my allowance.
Sometimes, my mum deducted from the money if I offended her by not attending church early or missing it altogether. I think each transgression was ₦2500. I augmented the allowance by adding a little — between ₦20k and ₦50k — to my ICAN classes and exam fees.
Then, I wrote my first exam in May and went for NYSC in July. My PPA was a fintech/real estate firm, and they paid ₦20k/month, which I wasn’t excited about. But then there was also the ₦33k NYSC allowance and my mum’s ₦35k, bringing everything to ₦88k/month.
Was that good money at the time?
It was enough for me to enjoy myself. I lived with my parents and didn’t pay for anything, so I lived large. I ordered food or got a nice treat at least once a week.
I was saving the ₦20k from my PPA because I wanted to change my phone and take another ICAN exam after NYSC, and I didn’t want to have to juggle it with work. The plan was to relax, write the exams, and then look for a job.
Remember I said my PPA was a fintech?
Yeah
They made me open my salary account with them, so they paid my ₦20k there. I didn’t touch it for months. But then they started having issues. I couldn’t transfer or withdraw my money because the account balance was just figures. There was no cash.
Fortunately, it was partly solved in January 2022, and I used the money to buy a phone, adding ₦60k to make up the ₦180k I needed. But just before I finished service in June, they had more issues, and ₦20k mysteriously disappeared from my account. I don’t even have words to describe everything that went wrong with them.
Anyway, I eventually finished NYSC with ₦80k in my savings. I would’ve had more from my allowance and the money I got from increasing my ICAN fees, but I lost ₦120k to scams during my service year: a multi-level marketing scheme and an agri-tech crowdfunding investment.
How did that happen?
The agri-tech platform absconded with my money, and the marketing people only sold dreams.
After service ended in June 2022, I focused on preparing for my last set of ICAN exams and applying for jobs in November. The job search was pretty difficult because I don’t live in Lagos, and most financial institutions are there. The recruiters wanted me to come to Lagos to interview, and I did that a couple of times. But it wasn’t sustainable. I couldn’t keep asking my parents to pay ₦250k for round trips, and I kept missing opportunities.
While I was job hunting, I learned I had failed one of the three exams I sat for. I’d thought I’d get my professional level ICAN certification, but now I had to retake a paper. I felt terrible.
Sorry about that
Thanks. I finally found an accountant role through my church’s group chat in February 2023. During the interview, the recruiter asked about my salary expectations. I said ₦70k because I didn’t want to be too greedy. I really should’ve demanded more because I got the job, and it was the ₦70k they paid.
I was still getting ₦35k/month from my mum, which brought my income to ₦105k. Ordinarily, I should’ve been cruising on that amount. I even drew up a plan to save and change my phone.
But Tinubu entered some months after and removed fuel subsidy. Cab fares went from ₦1200 to a minimum of ₦2k. I couldn’t take cabs to and fro anymore. I also stopped ordering food from Instagram vendors when they increased their prices. My employer added ₦10k to my salary to help with the hardship, but the salary was not doing what it was supposed to do anymore.
I know, right?
As if my ₦80k salary wasn’t small enough, my employers started deducting ₦500/day from the salary for coming minutes late. So my salary was often ₦77k.
Also, my mum could just deduct from my allowance, so everything was somehow. Saving became something I did if there was any money left or if I wanted to buy something.
In January 2024, my salary increased to ₦100k. I wasn’t pleased about it because my employer had promised a salary review for the longest time, and I expected more. There was also one ₦200k allowance he was supposed to pay that never materialised despite the many promises.
I eventually left in February. In March 2024, I resumed my current role, where I’m an audit assistant.
Better pay?
It wasn’t a significant pay bump. My salary is ₦115k/month — ₦108k after tax. My mum also stopped my ₦35k allowance in December last year because she got transferred at work and had some delays with her salary.
Plus, I didn’t have any more ICAN exams — I sorted those in May 2023 — so we haven’t had a conversation about whether she’d continue or not.
I’m surviving on just my salary. Oh, I got a part-time three-month lecturing gig at my former ICAN tutorial centre last month, and they paid ₦22k. I’m not sure if it was a one-time payment or if they’d pay me again at the end of the third month.
Right now, my 9-5 is my main income, and the economy isn’t making it easy to survive on my own. Things get more expensive by the day and it’s crazy.
I can relate. Let’s break down your typical monthly expenses
My transportation cost is low because I now have a car — my dad bought me one after I passed ICAN last year — and he fuels it. I only take Bolt sometimes. I also do once-in-a-while sacrificial giving in church or online. It’s faith-based and can be as low as ₦5k and go up to ₦100k.
How would you describe your relationship with money?
It’s like I’m running after money, but it’s running two steps away from me. Actually, I think my biggest problem is Tinubu. I’m not earning terrible money, but the country is spoiling faster than I earn.
My savings have suffered a lot because I often dip into it for one thing or the other. Last month, my siblings and I contributed money to get my sister a phone, and my share was ₦76k. I have about ₦50k left in my savings now.
I’m curious about how your parents’ very different money management styles shape your thinking about money
I have a centrist-ish approach. My dad was lax and my mum was very frugal, and I’m more like a balance between them. If I want something — flimsy or not — I believe in saving towards it and working to achieve it. I won’t deny myself or just buy it on an impulse.
How do you feel about moving from chilling daddy’s girl to hustling babe?
It’s due to factors beyond my control. Yes, I’m trying to be more independent, but I shouldn’t be struggling like this. I feel like I’d be in a better financial state if I lived in a system where the president wasn’t actively working against me.
I’m living above my means, but I’m not doing anything crazy most of the time. I once did an analysis of my expenses and realised I was spending ₦64k more than my salary, meaning I regularly eat into any savings I have at the time or money gifts I get from friends and family. I’ve tried to cut down recurring expenses like ordering food at work to make it better but it isn’t doing much.
I was thinking about the whole thing a few months ago and became depressed at how my money was disappearing in the twinkle of an eye. You know what I did to feel better? I did a birthday photoshoot, bought cake, went shopping and essentially wiped out the money I was depressed about in the first place.
What do future plans look like right now?
I’m trying to get better job opportunities, but it’s still this Lagos thing, and I feel stuck. Ideally, I’d have wanted to stay at least a year at my current job to build my career, but constantly stressing about money isn’t allowing me to calm down.
I also plan to do a master’s degree abroad soon. The last time I discussed it with my parents, the dollar was $700 to a naira. I don’t know what the amount will be when we revisit the conversation in December after my brothers are done with uni.
You mentioned looking for better job opportunities. Is there an ideal amount you’re looking for?
My ultimate goal is to be as far away from this president as possible because it’s not possible to outgrind a failing country. But right now, I just want to double my salary. Earning at least ₦200k while I live with my parents and not worrying about rent, food or fueling my car will go a long way.
Is there something you want right now but can’t afford?
A gym membership. The fee recently increased from ₦15k/month to ₦20k and it’ll require a lot of calculation for me to fit it to my monthly expenses. One thing would have to suffer, which is really wild. I also want to change my phone to an iPhone 13 pro max and that’ll cost about ₦800k.
How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1 – 10?
4. I don’t have it the worst, but there are things I should be able to do for myself which are still out of my reach. I can’t be financially irresponsible for a month and bounce back because the country is spoiling faster than I earn.
If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.
Deborah* (22) talks about her parents’ troubled long-term marriage, encouraging her mum to leave and why she wishes their separation had happened earlier.
I like to tell people I ended my parent’s marriage just to see the shocked looks on their faces and the silent questions they desperately want to ask. Sometimes, I provide context. Other times, I don’t.
If you ask me, I think their marriage shouldn’t have happened in the first place. My parents got married in 1997 as literal strangers. According to the story I heard, they met because my dad returned to his village to pick a wife after years of hustling in the city. His mother spoke to my mum’s aunt, and their marriage was arranged.
My parents met a week before the wedding and moved to my dad’s place in the city immediately after the bride’s price was exchanged. My mum had to start married life in a new place with no friends or family around. With nothing else to do, she began popping babies out. My mum was either pregnant or delivering a child every year in the first five years of marriage and finally stopped with me in 2002.
To this day, I wonder how that happened — the pregnancy every year bit — because I don’t think there was ever any love lost between them. My mum said they lived like roommates who shared a bed for the first few months of marriage. My dad made it clear he didn’t like unnecessary talk or “women’s gossip,” so apart from normal greetings, they hardly talked.
Becoming parents didn’t change much. Since my sisters and I could crawl, we knew daddy was a no-go area. He was this fearsome creature no one neared or talked to without being asked a question. It wasn’t just that he beat us — that happened often —it was also what he said.
My dad can make stupid money by holding a masterclass in emotional abuse because he’s honestly a professional. He was so quick with the insults and humiliation whenever anyone did something he didn’t like. If he saw us watching TV, he’d lash out and complain about lazy children who only watched TV and didn’t know how to do anything well. If we were in our bedroom, the complaint would be, “Why are you all sleeping like pregnant women? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
One time, when I was 12, my dad asked me to bring him a cup of water. When I did, he dumped the water on my head because, “If not that your head is empty, don’t you know I don’t like this cup?”
My mum got the worst of his verbal attacks. My dad is mean on a typical day but gets downright evil when he wants to. His favourite pastime is telling my mum she’s a disappointment because she couldn’t give him a male child. They’d be talking about something as random as the children’s school fees, and a switch would flip in his head, and he’d just start berating her.
My dad was the one who insisted my mum didn’t work, but whenever he was angry, he’d complain about how she and “her children” were finishing his money and not adding anything to his life. If it wasn’t name-calling, it was asking if she couldn’t see that she was getting fat.
He was also fond of breaking or seizing things whenever he was angry. He once threw a screwdriver at our TV because my big sister accidentally burnt a pot of soup while watching a telenovela. Then he turned his anger on my mum and blamed her for giving him wasteful children.
My dad’s antics aside, I was angrier that my mum didn’t see anything wrong in his behaviour. I was the only one of my siblings who didn’t go to boarding school, so I had a front-row seat to everything. Whenever I asked my mum why she never stood up to his insults, she’d say he had a lot on his mind, and it was just the pressure getting to him.
The first time I suggested my mum leave my dad was in 2018. She’d visited me for my university matriculation, and we decided to return home together. Only, we met a locked gate. My dad was inside, and when we knocked, he came outside and asked us to return to where we came from because my mum didn’t seek his permission before leaving.
We stood at the gate for almost two hours, begging this man, but he didn’t budge. When it became a scene and neighbours started gathering, I dragged my mum away, and we went to sleep at her friend’s house.
It hurt me to see how accepting my mum had become of abuse. She was shaking, fearing what my dad would say if he realised she hadn’t stayed outside all night waiting for him to let her in. It was like I saw her clearly for the first time that night. The woman was literally wasting away. Growing up, my mum was robust. I didn’t recognise the lean woman sitting across from me. I asked her that night why she hadn’t left him. Her response was, “At least he doesn’t beat me.”
But that didn’t discourage me. Over the years, I kept applying pressure and making my mum see why she had to leave. I even sought the help of my sisters also to convince her, but she always refused.
When my mum finally left in 2022, she did it without drama. I’d graduated from uni three months prior and hadn’t been home since. The plan was never to return, actually. I couldn’t bring myself to remain in that environment.
My mum called me one day to complain and try to convince me to visit. I jokingly told her I didn’t think we’d see again if she remained in my dad’s house. Then, she responded, “I’m moving to your sister’s house next week.”
I thought she was joking, but my mum actually did it. When I asked what changed her mind, she said she just decided to accept what I’d been saying all these years. An elder in our church had used my parents’ marriage as an example of a long-standing marriage during one of his sermons, and my mum realised that external validation was the main reason she’d endured for so long. People were looking up to her for staying married for 25 years, but she was literally dying inside the marriage.
My dad didn’t take it so well. For the first time in a very long time, he called me and my sisters on the phone and asked us to speak sense to our mother. Of course, we didn’t tell him we were solidly behind her.
It’s been about two years since they separated, and I honestly think it’s the best thing that happened to them. My mum isn’t lean anymore, and she has peace of mind. I heard my dad has brought one young girl into the house. I guess she’s bringing him the peace we apparently didn’t give him.
To be clear, I don’t hate my dad. If not for anything, I appreciate that he sent us to school and provided — even though he regularly complained about doing it. My parents are the typical example of people who had no business staying together. I wish they’d separated earlier. Maybe I wouldn’t have the anxiety I struggle with now.
Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
What’s your earliest memory of each other?
Karena: We met in 2017 at a Nigerian cultural event in Toronto. We’d both lived in Canada for about a year by then. I was there with friends, feeling a bit homesick and looking to connect with fellow Nigerians.
Tsola caught my eye because he seemed a bit out of place, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact. But there was something interesting about him.
Tsola: Yeah, that event was a tough one for me. Crowds and new social situations tend to trigger my OCD.
When Karena approached me, I was initially apprehensive. But she had this warm, reassuring presence that made me feel at ease. We started talking about Nigeria, our favourite foods, and how we both missed home.
Tsola, did you tell her about your OCD right away?
Tsola: No.
Opening up to her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It was about three months into our relationship before that happened. We were spending some time together at my apartment, and I was anxious that evening.
Karena: I thought we’d gotten comfortable with each other. We really bonded over shared Nigerian experiences because, coincidentally, we both lived in Port Harcourt. That was an immediate green flag for me. We’d talk Trans Amadi gist for hours like we knew each other in Nigeria. He came across as very self-assured. I already liked him a lot.
So I was concerned that he was suddenly behaving shifty. It was the first time I’d visited his place too; I was a little paranoid.
How did it come out?
Tsola: I saw how uncomfortable my discomfort was making her, and I hated it. So as we ate dinner, I randomly brought up how I have these intrusive thoughts that make me feel like something terrible will happen unless I perform certain rituals. The whole time, I was terrified she’d think I was crazy and leave.
Karena: I could see how scared he was to tell me. It broke my heart to see him so vulnerable. When he finished explaining, I took his hand and told him I loved him and his OCD didn’t change that. I didn’t know what I was saying.
We spent the rest of the night talking about his experiences. I didn’t fully understand what he was going through, but I was determined to learn and support him.
Was the relationship already official?
Karena: At least a month before then, it felt official already. But even if it wasn’t, that was the day we agreed to be exclusive.
Tsola: Maybe before that was still the talking stage, but I think we knew we liked each other and wanted to date from early on.
What was the relationship like after this big reveal?
Karena: One of the biggest challenges has been understanding that OCD isn’t something that can be easily fixed or ignored. There have been times when I’ve felt frustrated and helpless, especially when his compulsions interfere with our daily life, which they do a lot.
For instance, we’ve had to leave social gatherings early because Tsola felt overwhelmed. I’m an ambivert, so it hasn’t been all bad. But sometimes, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells to avoid triggering his anxiety.
Tsola: When I notice her overcompensating for my triggers without being able to do anything about it is when I feel the worst, TBH.
I’ve been in therapy for years, and I’ve tried various medications with varying degrees of success. Some days are better than others, but there are times when it feels like I’m drowning in my compulsions. Those are the days when I struggle the most, and it takes a toll on our relationship.
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Tell me about it
Karena: There was a particularly difficult period last year. He was constantly worried about contamination and would wash his hands until they were red and raw. It affected our intimacy, our routine, everything. I felt like I was losing him.
We had some heated arguments because I didn’t know how to help him, and he felt guilty for putting me through it.
How have you guys been able to come this far together?
Tsola: She’s been my rock, but there have been times when I’ve pushed her away because I felt like a burden.
I remember one time when I couldn’t touch anything in my apartment without feeling contaminated. She tried to comfort me, but I snapped at her. I felt horrible afterward, but at that moment, the anxiety was too overwhelming.
Karena: We’ve had many conversations about how to handle his OCD. We’ve learnt to set boundaries. For example, we have designated areas in both his and my apartment where I can go to calm down when I feel overwhelmed.
It’s not perfect, but it helps.
Were there times when you considered breaking up?
Karena: Before I met Tsola, my relationships were more straightforward, but also less deep and less meaningful. Maybe it’s the trap we women fall for where we see saving a flawed man as a challenge. That’s what my sister keeps telling me anyway.
I don’t know, but this relationship feels more high stakes because I feel the most emotional attached I’ve ever felt before.
Tsola: I hid my OCD from most of my exes as best as I could because I was afraid they wouldn’t understand or would leave me. This secrecy created a lot of stress and prevented genuine intimacy. With Kar, I felt safe enough to be open about my struggles, which has been both challenging and incredibly freeing.
Also, my past partners tried to be understanding, but they didn’t fully grasp the extent of things. Kar has gone out of her way to educate herself about OCD and to support me in ways I never experienced before.
I’ve tried to talk her out of me, but I myself can’t imagine breaking up with her.
Talk her out of you?
Tsola: I always have this phase when I feel like a burden to everyone and just want to figure out my struggles on my own. Sometimes, I’d tell her that maybe she’s better off without me.
Karena: The first time we had that conversation was one of the hardest we’ve ever had. I was heartbroken that he felt that way, but I also understood where he was coming from. It was a wake-up call. We stayed apart for a week and some days.
But then, we met up again and realised we needed to find better ways to support each other and take care of ourselves.
Did you find better ways?
Tsola: We decided to go to therapy together, and it made a huge difference. There are still tough days, but it’s helped us live through moments without feeling like we‘re losing ourselves to each other.
Karena: There was another tough period about three years into our relationship when Tsola’s compulsions were at their worst. I was lonely because OCD can be an invisible wall between us, making it hard to connect on a normal, everyday level.
Once, I tried to hug him to offer some comfort, but he flinched and stepped back, fearing that physical contact would spread contamination. That rejection, even though I knew it wasn’t personal, stung deeply. I thought about whether I could handle this for the rest of my life. I started questioning whether I was sacrificing too much of my own happiness and well-being, so I asked my close friends.
Did they know about his OCD? What did they say?
Karena: Just two of my friends that Tsola was comfortable with knowing about it. They actually suggested the couples therapy we’re currently taking. But not all my friends who know bits and pieces of the situation are so understanding. A few have expressed concern about the toll the relationship is taking on me.
Tsola: When Karena tells me about the conversations she’s had with her friends, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I hate the fact that I’m being talked about. I can’t help the sting of insecurity and guilt sometimes. It makes me confront my fears that I’m dragging her down and maybe she deserves someone who doesn’t come with so much baggage.
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Right
Tsola: When one friend asked if she could see herself living like this for the rest of her life, it hit me like a punch to the gut. I didn’t want to be the reason she felt unhappy or overwhelmed.
But I’m also happy she has a tight support system. I have one too with three of my friends, and I know how sane and grounded it makes me feel after what I’ve gone through with my parents and sisters in the past.
Karena: But it’s not just about dealing with the bad days; when the days are good, they’re really good. He’s one of the most thoughtful and caring people I know. His OCD has good sides too because he’s incredibly attentive to details and remembers the little things that matter to me, like my favourite snacks or the way I like my coffee. He has it down to a science.
That sounds nice
Karena: Yes. His ability to be present and attentive has brought a lot of joy and comfort to my life.
Tsola: She’s funny, and she knows how to make me laugh even on my worst days — which is hard. It’s also been great having someone I know I can trust with important decisions when my brain cripples me with overthinking.
What’s next for your relationship?
Karena: We’ve definitely talked about moving in together, getting married and even having kids. It’s something we both want, but we’re also very aware of the challenges.
Tsola: We actually plan to move in together next year. It’s a big step, and we know it would bring a new set of challenges.
We’ve discussed setting up routines and boundaries to help manage this. Specific areas designated for certain activities, like a clean area where I can feel safe, and working together to keep those spaces organised.
Neat
Karena: We’ll have a professional cleaner come in regularly to help maintain the place without it all falling on either of us. This could reduce the stress and potential conflict around household chores.
Tsola: Having kids is something we both dream about, but it’s also the area where my OCD might present the biggest challenge. We had a pregnancy scare in 2021 when we forced ourselves to discuss it extensively.
Karena: It’ll probably be individual and couples therapy for the rest of our lives, but I think that’s a great thing for us, OCD or no. We need to keep working on our communication skills and coping mechanisms. As we move forward, we’ll make sure we’re as prepared as possible for the ups and downs.
What did that extensive conversation about kids entail?
Karena: Educating ourselves on parenting with OCD, seeking advice from professionals, and possibly joining support groups. We want to be proactive in finding ways to ensure that our children grow up in a loving and stable environment.
It’s scary, but I think we’ll be fine.
Tsola: The most important thing to me is that we’re both happy and healthy, as husband and wife, as parents, whatever. I’m willing to put in the work.
Karena: We’re also realistic about the fact that we might need to adjust our plans based on how things progress. I’m keeping an open mind.
On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?
Karena: 8. Overall, I feel incredibly loved and supported, and I know we both put in the work to keep our connection.
Tsola: Yeah, 8. I feel incredibly loved and supported. I feel very lucky to have her.
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.
Finding your soulmate and deciding to do life with them is great, but sometimes, the happily ever after life of your dreams you once saw can begin to feel like life imprisonment. If you’re looking to add a little extra oomph to your relationship, look no further. Here’s how to spice up your relationship:
Find new ways to tell them you love them
Image credit: tastyad
Tattoo their face on your face, buy a billboard space and announce to the world that your baby is bad, good, and all the other things you may ever need. Don’t just tell your baby you love them; show it, too.
Find something to bond over
Image credit: dagsavisen
Watching a new movie or shouting “ozeba” together might be great, but you know what will definitely get you and the love of your life bonding? Running from the police. Get a car, rob a bank, and become fugitives on the run. You will bond over your dislike for the police while enjoying your loot together. If Bonnie and Clyde could do it, you can too.
Get new experiences
Image credit: memes.zikoko
We’re not telling you to open your relationship and give your partner and their genitals free reign. We’re just saying you should consider inviting someone else into your bed or tying your partner up and going all Christian Grey on them.
Meet your village people
Image credit: memes.zikoko
We know they have a bad rep, but think about it this way: whatever they use to commit all manner of atrocities in your life can also be used to fix your relationship.
Activate your inner onigbese
Image credit: tenor
You could owe your partner, your downstairs neighbour, or an elder in your church. Just make sure you take someone’s money and refuse to pay it back. Your relationship will have so much sparks in it that a live wire will be jealous.
Find someone you have intense sexual chemistry with and start an affair with them. Bonus points if they’re also in a relationship. All that sneaking around and back-breaking sex will light a fire in your relationship that will never be quenched.
Go on a break
Image credit: memes.zikoko
Sometimes, the best way to keep the spark in your relationship alive is by throwing water on it and calling it quits. This way, when you come back together, you’ll remember how miserable life in the streets is, and your spark will never go low.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
It’s the time I “took” ₦150 from my mum’s purse in Primary 2. I knew it was bad, but I did it. If she found out, she never confronted me.
Why ₦150?
My school had this thing called a check test. It was a type of midterm exam, and each child was to pay ₦150. When I told my mum, she said she didn’t have money. So, I had to collect it myself.
Was “I don’t have money” a regular phrase you heard growing up?
Not at first. My dad used to travel internationally to buy materials for his plumbing business, but he stopped and started doing local trips around the country instead. I never found out why.
I was small, but I noticed the changes. I remember starting primary school in a private school and suddenly withdrawing to attend a government school.
My dad gradually stopped bringing gifts from his trips, too. Then I started hearing, “I don’t have money.” Sometimes, he’d leave the house and not return for a long time.
My mum also moved from being a housewife to selling fruits at a major market in Onitsha, where we lived. I was used to seeing her at home whenever I came home from school, but she, too, started returning late. This was around 2006/2007.
I’d just started adjusting to our new reality when my mum passed away in 2012. My dad also started having issues paying rent, so he sent me and my siblings to live with my grandmother in the village.
I’m so sorry about your mum
Thanks. I was in JSS 2 and continued my secondary school education in the village. When I finished in 2017, there was no money to further my education, so I had to start working.
Sales girl jobs were the easiest options for secondary school certificate holders where I lived, and I found one at a provision store. My salary was ₦6k/month, which I used to fend for myself and provide for my sisters. I’m the second-born, but my elder sibling stayed back with an uncle in the city, so I became the oldest to the rest of my siblings.
I worked at the provision store for a year. Then, I decided to return to the city.
Why?
I was tired of living in the village and wanted to try going to university. My dad thought I was joking when I told him until I appeared in his one-room face-me-I-face-you apartment. I even left my sisters behind.
I told my dad I wanted to resume school, and his response was, “Hmm.” That clearly meant, “With which money?” I had to resort to looking for jobs if I hoped to make my school dream come true.
Did you find a job?
Yes. I found one as a marketer at a microfinance bank in 2019. Basically, we did esusu contribution (thrift collection), and my job was to enter the market and convince people to contribute with us. My salary was ₦15k/month, more than double what I made back in the village.
However, I could only save about ₦1k-₦2k monthly because my dad wasn’t doing great financially. He worked as “oso afia” — a middleman. You know those men you see standing around in the market and asking passersby what they want to buy? Then you tell them, and they take you to the person selling it. That’s what my dad did.
He made money from small commissions. His income wasn’t enough for anything, so I had to contribute to the home expenses.
I also sent about ₦5k monthly to my sisters back in the village. The rest of my salary went into my toiletries and transportation to work. I worked there for a year before I left in 2020.
Why did you leave?
The pressure was a lot. The bank expected me to bring people who could drop ₦1m in fixed deposits. But my customers were market people who used their money to trade, and I always missed my targets.
My bosses kept telling me to “apply pressure” and do what others were doing. When I asked the others what they were doing, it was that some of them were using their bodies. Me, I couldn’t do it, and I was also in a relationship. So I quit before they used pressure to wound me.
My sisters also moved to the city to manage with me and my dad around that time. Responsibilities increased, and then the lockdown happened. Omo, as soon as it was over, I had to look for another job. This time, it was as a sales girl at a clothing store.
How much did it pay?
₦15k/month. I was determined to write JAMB that year, so I started evening tutorial lessons. I told my uncles before I started because I knew I’d need their financial help. They told me to go ahead, and I paid ₦4,500 for the three-month tutorial. I paid ₦5,500 for the JAMB exam itself, and I scored 177.
Uni was out of the question, so I processed admission to a college of education and got in. But I deferred the admission because my uncles gave me stories when I called them to ask for money to pay the ₦8k acceptance fee.
It pained me that I didn’t have any money saved up, or I’d have paid it myself. But then again, the school fee was ₦65k. Where would I see the money for that?
Right
Thankfully, I was still working at the clothing store. But I also left after working for a year in 2021. I was tired and needed space to think about my life. I decided I wouldn’t look for another job. I’d use the time to find a handiwork to earn so I could make something of myself.
But that decision only lasted like three months. Things were so hard at home. My dad would go out and come back without money, and my siblings had to eat. Even if I wanted to close my mind to my own needs, I couldn’t just watch them starve. I was getting a little pocket money here and there from my boyfriend, but it wasn’t enough for us all.
So, I found another job in 2022 at a hospital. I was like an administrative assistant.
Was the pay any better?
Still ₦15k o. That’s the general salary for SSCE holders in my area. Only jobs in the state capital or major cities pay like ₦30k/month.
Fortunately, some of my siblings had started doing small small things to make money, so I could save about ₦6k/month. When we were really lucky, our dad would have enough money to feed us for two or three days, so we shared responsibilities like that. Sometimes, if everyone was broke, we slept hungry.
I actually loved my job at the hospital. I asked questions a lot and joined the other staff to do tests and prepare for operations. I even learnt to read lab results. The doctor was a gynaecologist, and I gained experience in things concerning women, like pregnancy and prenatal drugs.
Ironically, I discovered I was pregnant in 2023. I had to leave the hospital.
Did they ask you to leave?
No, but I was ashamed. The staff knew I wasn’t married, and nurses gossip a lot. I didn’t want to be at the centre of anyone’s gossip.
I only knew about my pregnancy in the third month. I typically see my period for five days, but I saw it for only three days during the first two months. I thought it was an infection, so I started saving money for treatment. One mind just told me to do a pregnancy test even though I was sure I used contraceptives. Alas, the baby was there.
I ran to my aunt’s place in confusion. Then I sent my dad a text to inform him about my condition. After that, I switched off my phone. When he finally got through to me, he asked me who was responsible. He knew my boyfriend, so I told him. He said, “So, what is he saying?” I responded, “I don’t know,” and he ended the call.
Was your boyfriend actually saying anything?
When I told him, he said, “It’s not true.” Then he said he wasn’t responsible. Then he accepted, but he grew distant. At one point, he stopped calling and taking my calls. I think the whole thing contributed to the mental breakdown I suffered.
My aunt took me to a psychiatric hospital for tests because I kept talking to myself and crying. I don’t even know if they found anything wrong; I was just in my own world.
I moved to an uncle’s house in January, and that’s when I started to feel like myself again. The neighbourhood is quiet, and I feel at peace. I had my baby two months ago, and I’ve not returned home since. My dad comes to visit me here. My baby’s father calls once in a while, but he doesn’t send money. I stopped asking when he kept posting me.
Does your uncle support you financially?
He provides most of what I need. I have a roof over my head, and I don’t have to worry about food. In February, I got a ₦15k/month teaching job at a school close to his house. I was seven months pregnant then. The salary is small, considering how expensive things have gotten, but I don’t spend money on transportation and food, so it works.
You have a baby now. Does your salary still cover your needs?
For now, yes. I don’t buy baby formula because I breastfeed. My mum’s family also gifted us thrifted baby clothes and diapers, so I won’t have to worry about new ones for a while. There are also immunisations for my baby, but those don’t cost much. I’m trying to save as much as I can because I know the time will come when my baby’s needs will double.
Oh, my school’s principal also increased my salary to ₦20k in May. I explained to her that I needed more money for my baby before I went on my six-week maternity leave, and she increased it when I returned. That woman really tried for me.
That’s nice. Let’s break down your typical monthly expenses
I have ₦35k saved up right now, and I plan to save more so I can learn how to make money online. I’m considering affiliate or digital marketing before the end of the year. The people I’ve asked told me I’ll need like ₦30k to start affiliate marketing. Then, I’ll still need to look for where to learn content marketing and social media ads as additional skills.
Why affiliate marketing?
I heard people are making money with it. I’d still like to go to the university for my degree, so I can grow and stop earning ₦15k -₦20k. But I need money to make that happen. I hear I can make up to 50% commission with affiliate marketing, and if I make enough sales, I can make ₦100k – ₦200k in a month. That’s really good money.
You mentioned you hadn’t been home since learning you were pregnant. Do you plan to return at any point?
I don’t think I can go back there again in this life. Apart from the fact that neighbours will use gossip to finish me, I don’t have to worry about feeding anyone here.
The pressure to provide for everyone was too much and was part of what pushed me to my baby’s father — he was giving me small small money at the time. Now, see where that’s gotten me. I’m okay where I am, please. At least if money enters my hand now, I can focus on school, not what someone will eat.
I’m curious. Do your siblings still call you for money?
No one calls me o. I guess they pity me now. They know it was the pressure that made me vulnerable, so the highest they bill me is ₦200 recharge card once in a while
Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?
I learned that I need a laptop and steady internet connection for affiliate marketing. I don’t know what a steady connection means, but I assume it means my ₦3,500 monthly data won’t be enough. That’s why I plan to save until the end of the year. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to cover what I need.
Rooting for you. How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?
1. I would be in a different position now if billing wasn’t so much. Between February and now, I’ve saved ₦35k. Imagine what I could’ve had if I didn’t have so many responsibilities. I’m grateful that my pregnancy was smooth, but I still regret some of the steps I took.
I now ring it in my siblings’ ears that no one should carry burdens the way I did. Everyone should fend for themselves.
If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.
Patience* achieved her japa dreams after moving to Europe with her boyfriend in 2022. However, she’s now considering returning to Nigeria because of concerns about their future as a couple.
I got the best news of my life sometime in July 2022.
My boyfriend, Diran*, had applied for a student visa to study for a postgraduate degree in a European country, and he called me that day to share the good news that his visa had been approved.
I was excited for two reasons. Diran had applied once before but didn’t get it. He’d also already deferred his admission once, losing a scholarship in the process. Most importantly, I was excited that he was going to take me along as a dependent.
Diran and I started dating in 2021, and from the first moment we met, it was obvious the guy wanted to leave Nigeria at all costs. We met on a Twitter space where we both complained about Nigeria, and he DM’ed me after. I don’t even think the question, “Will you be my girlfriend?” was uttered. After talking for three weeks, we met up, made out and became an item.
We didn’t live in the same city, so it was a long-distance relationship right from the start. Our busy schedules also made our communication difficult. We both worked in tech, and Diran used his free time applying to every international postgraduate program he could find.
It wasn’t like he had dreams of obtaining a Ph.D. He just thought it was the easiest way to leave. The plan was to get abroad, find work, make money and work on never returning to Nigeria again.
If anything, I think our joint determination to leave the country was what kept us together. It was all we talked about. We could see that Nigeria wasn’t gonna make it, and leaving was the only option. But I didn’t want to go the school route like Diran; I didn’t have the money for it or a family to support me financially like he did, and scholarships aren’t a walk in the park. It was either a skilled worker visa, or I miraculously landed a foreign job.
The period we started dating was when Diran first got denied a visa. So, when he began the process again, it only made sense for him to include me in the visa application. We were committed to each other and knew our journey together would involve relocating at some point, so why not just start then?
Technically, Diran is my husband. We had to forge marriage papers to strengthen my dependent application. He’d jokingly asked if we should get married for real, but I thought it was too quick. Marriage isn’t something you run into so fast like that. My parents wouldn’t even have approved the quick wedding.
Diran and I travelled to Europe in September 2022, but my parents thought I travelled alone. There was no way to explain cohabitation to my very Nigerian parents.
But I was excited. I had finally achieved my japa dream. Things could only get better.
The first few months abroad were great. I kept my tech job in Nigeria, so I only picked up a few cleaning shifts to make extra cash. Diran was also making some money as a research assistant at his school. I hoped, with time, I’d get a proper job, and we could work towards permanent residence. But our relationship started to suffer.
Living together highlighted all our differences. For one, Diran is a morning person who wants to exercise once he wakes up and plays music out loud — he doesn’t “believe” in headphones. I’m very grumpy in the mornings, and all the noise he makes annoys me to no end. I told him about it, and he tried to reduce the volume of his music, but we stay in a very small apartment, and his workout movements still wake me up.
Diran also became more fixated on money. He’d regularly miss classes to take under-the-table gigs because there was a limit to the number of hours he could work on a student visa. That caused a lot of our fights. I didn’t understand why he’d jeopardise his degree. Why couldn’t he just wait to get the degree and use it to get a better job?
His long hours also meant he was hardly around, and we became almost like roommates. Our constant arguments on just about everything didn’t do much for our relationship either. We could be together in a room but would be on our phones throughout that time.
That’s why, as early as 2023, I’d already begun considering ending the relationship, but I worried Diran would think I just used him to get to Europe or he’d try to remove me from his visa. So, I stayed. I didn’t even have anywhere else to go. I’m sure he also noticed that the relationship wasn’t working again, but he didn’t address it.
I suggested we go on a break early this year, and Diran agreed. That was a foolish idea, though, because we’re still roommates, and konji pushed us back together after a week. But we aren’t even together in the real sense of the word. Sex is the only thing we have in common.
I’ve decided now that I’m really going to leave the relationship, but I’m a bit confused about how to go about it. It’s the worst possible time to discuss a break up. Diran failed some exams last year and had to resit. He just recently learned that he failed those resit exams, and it’s looking like he might not get his postgraduate degree. If that happens, he might lose his visa, and that’ll affect me too.
I feel like asking to break up now would just be me kicking someone who’s already down. On the other hand, I know I’ll still leave one day, so won’t that be interpreted as I just hung around because of visa?
I don’t mind returning to Nigeria. That might even be my only option. Like I said earlier, I don’t have the money to apply to a university and switch to a student visa. Pursuing a visitor’s visa is also a waste of time. I’ve tried applying to jobs here that might help me stay, but I haven’t been lucky. I think it’s better if I leave now before Diran has visa issues so it won’t affect my chances of re-applying if I ever need to.
Nigeria is probably at the worst it’s ever been, and I might regret returning later, but I’m just hoping everything will work out. I just have to figure out how to break up with Diran first.
*Names have been changed, and specific locations removed for the sake of anonymity.
Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
What’s your earliest memory of each other?
Aina: It was at a tech conference in Lagos in 2021.
I was there to speak on a panel and explore how technology could improve my agro business. Leke was one of the other speakers, and his talk on the intersection of agriculture and technology caught my attention.
Leke: During my presentation, I noticed her in the audience. Of course, I did. She’s made huge contributions to her industry and even though there were many other important people there, everyone kind of looked at her with this different level of regard.
So how did you meet?
Aina: After his presentation, I approached him with some questions. I remember feeling a mix of curiosity and admiration for this young man. What really stood out when we spoke was his willingness to listen and offer insights without hesitation. It wasn’t just his ideas that impressed me, but also the respect and seriousness with which he treated my questions.
Leke: When she approached me afterward, I was taken aback by her directness and the depth of her questions. But I felt proud that she would approach me for any type of guidance.
Aina: That conversation turned into several brainstorming sessions and calls, and eventually led to a beautiful friendship.
And how did the friendship develop after the conference?
Aina: Our friendship developed unexpectedly.
I reached out a few times with questions about implementing some of the tech solutions he had mentioned. He was always very responsive and helpful. Over time, our interaction shifted from strictly professional to more personal. We started meeting up for dinner to discuss ideas and eventually began sharing more about our lives outside of work. I found myself drawn to his fresh perspective on things.
Leke: I admired her tenacity, the way she navigates the business world with such grace and strength. You know how running a business is in this country, talk less of doing it as successfully as she has.
Some months later, she invited me to her factory outside Lagos to show me the practical side of her business and how some of the tech solutions we discussed were being implemented. Not many people take my words seriously and actually implement them.
What happened during this visit?
Leke: Spending the day together, away from the city and our usual environment, allowed us to see different sides of each other. There was a moment when we were both laughing about a silly mishap with a processing equipment, and I just felt comfortable.
Aina: Later that evening, we ended up having a long conversation about our dreams and fears, and I realised how much I valued his presence in my life. I found myself caring about what he thought.
But I tried to shift it out of my mind as I’d had a tough first marriage that didn’t end well. And then, I knew Leke was younger and realistically wasn’t thinking anything serious about us.
But turns out he was? Did the age difference ever come up between you at this point?
Leke: Some three months after the trip to her factory, we talked about it.
During those months, we grew unexpectedly close. Our professional meetings often turned into long dinners and late-night talks, and there was this unspoken tension that held us back. I was questioning myself at every turn.
Between my work and business, I didn’t really have time for a social life, so I thought I felt drawn to her only because she was mature and easy to talk to when I could hardly talk to my peers.
Aina: Likewise, I did a lot of rigmarole in my head about what was happening and if I was right to keep talking for long hours to this man. My two children, siblings and close friends were all outside the country. My mum died years ago, so it’s just my dad in Ijebu. It must’ve been loneliness that was affecting me. I told myself I had to respect myself. So there was a period when I kept off.
But then, he started reaching out and coming to look for me.
Is this when you had the talk?
Aina: Not immediately. For a while, things were arbitrary between us. We didn’t know if we were just friends or business associates or more.
Leke: The eventual conversation was triggered by a series of events. I remember one instance vividly: we attended a social gathering together where a few people made subtle comments about our age difference. It was nothing overt, but enough to make us both feel a bit uncomfortable.
And it wasn’t like we attended as a couple o.
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I guess people caught on?
Leke: Maybe.
A few days later, after a tough day at work, I was at Aina’s place for dinner. I don’t even know when I started going to her place to eat after work. But anyway, she had cooked jollof rice — even though she had a chef — and we were both exhausted but enjoying each other’s company.
As we sat on her porch after dinner, I couldn’t shake off the comments from the gathering. I was quiet, and she noticed.
Aina: Yes, but I just patiently waited for him to talk. I already knew something was happening between us. I just didn’t know what. I hadn’t been in any kind of relationship since my divorce was finalised in 2012. So that was nine years of being a single mother.
What was it about each other that triggered romantic feelings?
Leke: Honestly, her maturity is exactly why I fell for her. She has a wealth of experience, and she’s very kind as she shares them. Also, this might be shallow but she looks much younger than she is. The fact that she’s taken care of herself and body so well is truly inspiring to me.
I agree
Leke: There was this one time before we had that conversation, I was really down because a project I had been working on fell through. I was frustrated and doubting myself. She called me up, and we met at this little café — that’s another thing, she knows all the best places to eat and relax in private.
She listened to me vent for hours, and then, she shared stories of her own failures and how she overcame them. Her eyes were so full of warmth and understanding, and she said, “Leke, setbacks are just setups for comebacks.” She’s one of those motivational speakers.
Aina: He’s talking like he values my motivational speak now, but really, he never stops making fun of them.
Leke: The way she balances being strong yet vulnerable inspires me too. I realised that her life experience brought a depth to our relationship that I’d never experienced before. It wasn’t about her being older; it was about the incredible person she is.
Aina: In truth, the thought of our age difference has never left my mind till now that we’re married and just had a baby. I still think about it every day and wonder what I’m doing.
Why, though?
Aina: Maybe because I’m the older one. It’s just there.
But he’s never treated me differently because of our age difference; instead, he’s valued my experience and perspective, which I never ever got in my first marriage. Also, his passion for his work combined with his genuine curiosity about my life and business created a bond that was hard to ignore.
Leke: At the beginning, I was honestly conflicted too.
I was deeply drawn to Aina, but the age difference and societal expectations were at the back of my mind as well. Nigeria, as you know, can be quite traditional, and relationships where the woman is older are often met with scepticism or outright disapproval.
But I decided I wanted to be with her, so I did it.
Aina: Leke made me feel seen and appreciated in ways that transcended age. He challenged me intellectually and emotionally, and his youthful energy was infectious. Not so much now that we’re married. I think he’s aged up to meet me mentally.
So how did that conversation on Aina’s porch go?
Leke: I mustered the courage to ask, “Aina, does it ever bother you that I’m younger?” It was a question that had been weighing on my mind. We hadn’t even talked about a relationship, but why else would I be alone with her at her house at past 7 p.m.? Why else would she cook for me?
True
Leke: Her response was honest. She shared her concerns about my future and whether I might regret being with someone older. We both opened up about our fears and reassured each other that our connection was worth it.
Aina: I asked him about what his family and friends would say, and he just turned it around on me. He said, “Your family and friends would also disapprove. How do you feel about that?” We both kept quiet.
Leke: This was in 2022. I introduced her to my friends and then my family some months after that conversation to get it out of the way.
What was their reaction?
Leke: Well, we’re married now, so does it matter?
Aina: When we decided it was time to introduce ourselves as a couple, I was a bundle of nerves. My family’s reaction was mostly positive. We planned a trip to meet two of my siblings in Canada. They were curious but supportive. They could see how happy Leke made me, and that was what mattered most to them. My dad was a lot more reserved, but he respected my decision.
Leke: On my side, it was a rollercoaster.
I decided to start with my closest friends. I invited a few of them over for dinner and introduced Aina as my girlfriend. There was a moment of silence, and then the questions started: “How did you two meet?” “What’s the story here?” Some joked about her being my sugar mummy, but I could tell it came from a place of affection and not malice.
And your family?
Leke: I’d told my mum about her as soon as we decided to be together. She was sceptical, of course.
Then months later, I brought her to a family gathering, and as expected, there were a lot of curious looks and whispers. My mother was the first to speak up, asking straightforwardly about our age difference and how we saw our future together. Aina handled it with grace. My father asked whether I was truly happy, and if I’d thought this through.
Aina: The presence of guests nearby made them a lot more gracious and considerate.
I can imagine
Leke: Over time, as they saw how serious and committed we were, my family started to come around. My siblings, once they got to know Aina better, were especially supportive. It wasn’t an overnight acceptance, but gradually, the scepticism gave way to understanding and acceptance.
Aina: It was a challenging process, but it ultimately strengthened our bond as a couple. We learned to navigate the judgement and stand by each other.
Then as soon as my ex got wind of the relationship, he started calling to harass me. He’d make fun of the fact that I was sleeping with a gigolo, or threaten me not to bring him near his children. It was so childish.
How did you handle that?
Aina: He’s in the States so I blocked him. Haha.
Leke: The man must have been so insecure to keep reaching out. He himself remarried a younger woman several years ago, so?
Aina: My children are both young adults and in college. They honestly couldn’t care less who I’m with. Everytime we speak, it’s to tell me they just want me to be happy.
Leke: They’re the smartest, most well-adjusted young people I’ve probably ever met.
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When did you decide it was time to get married?
Aina: It happened about a year and a half into our relationship. We had grown incredibly close. We took a trip to a quiet resort outside Nigeria. One evening, as we sat by the beach, Leke brought up the topic of our future in the most business-like way.
Leke: Don’t laugh at me. I was trying to be serious.
Aina: He asked me where I saw us in the next five years. It was a simple question, but it opened up a heartfelt conversation about our dreams, aspirations, and what we truly wanted in life.
How did you respond?
Aina: I told him I wanted to expand my company and have a stable, loving partnership. Leke spoke about his ambitions and how he envisioned us supporting each other’s goals.
Leke: I think I knew before I asked her the question, but during this conversation I knew for sure that we both wanted to spend our lives together.
Did you propose immediately?
Leke: When we returned from the trip, I couldn’t stop thinking about proposing.
I spoke with my closest friends and got their support and advice. The next step was talking to my family. I visited my parents and told them about my intentions. It was a serious discussion. They were concerned about the age difference and the potential difficulties we might face. I assured them that Aina and I had thought through everything and that we were ready to face any challenges together.
Aina: I had a similar conversation with my family, mostly my siblings. I reassured them about our commitment and how we’d navigated our relationship so far. The proposal itself was simple but heartfelt.
Leke: One evening, I invited Aina to a quiet dinner at her favourite restaurant. After dessert, I took her hand and told her how much she meant to me, how I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and then I asked her to marry me. Her eyes filled with tears, and she said yes.
We had a civil wedding the next month and both moved into a new self-detached that we’d put a deposit on.
Neat. So you mentioned something about a baby earlier?
Aina: Given my age, we knew there could be challenges. We had numerous conversations about starting a family well before our wedding. We discussed our options, including natural conception, adoption and surrogacy. Both of us were committed to raising a child together, no matter the path we took.
Leke: We both wanted children and were open to the different ways of making that dream a reality.
Aina: After our wedding, we consulted with several fertility specialists. It became clear that natural conception would be difficult, and we had to consider other options seriously. Surrogacy came up as a viable option, and after much thought and discussion, we decided to pursue it.
How did that go?
Aina: It was tough because of work, but he found a way to be present and supportive throughout the process.
Leke: We found a reputable agency that helped us through. We met with several potential surrogates and finally connected with a wonderful woman who understood our story and was excited to help us start our family.
Aina: Throughout the surrogacy journey, we made sure to stay involved and connected. We attended medical appointments, stayed in close contact with our surrogate, and prepared ourselves for the arrival of our child.
The entire process, from the initial consultation to the birth of our child, was emotionally taxing but ultimately incredibly fulfilling. I’m just glad we were able to still use my eggs. This decision was important to us because we wanted a biological connection to our child.
Leke: The day our child was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Holding our baby for the first time, all the challenges and obstacles we faced seemed worth it.
Right now, we’re focused on giving our child the best upbringing possible and enjoying every moment of being parents. But expanding our family is definitely something we’re considering for the future.
Did you get any push back from family or friends about going the surrogacy route?
Leke: We really didn’t give people the space to comment. They also respect Aina and I in a way that not many people are quick to question or criticise us.
Aina: We’re very private people, even to family, so the whispers are easily ignored, if there are any.
What was your first major fight about?
Aina: It happened about six months into our relationship, not long after I first invited him to the factory. We’d been spending a lot of time together, and the reality of our different worlds began to surface.
The fight started over something seemingly small—Leke had made plans with his friends without checking with me, and I’d planned a business dinner on the same evening.
Leke: It started as a small misunderstanding but quickly snowballed into something much bigger. I felt that Aina was trying to manage my life like she did her business, and I resented that. I raised my voice, and she did too. It was the first time we saw each other truly angry.
Aina: I felt that Leke wasn’t considering my busy schedule and the demands of running a business. He, on the other hand, felt that I was being too controlling and not respecting his need for personal time. The argument quickly turned into a heated exchange about our priorities.
How did you navigate the situation?
Leke: We both said things we didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. I remember feeling frustrated and storming out of her apartment. I couldn’t go back home, so I went to stay with a friend for the night, and it gave me time to cool down and think about everything.
I realised that a lot of my frustration was actually rooted in the pressures we were both feeling from our different worlds and the societal expectations placed on us.
Aina: After Leke left, I felt a mix of anger and sadness. I knew I had been too harsh, and I regretted the things I said. The next day, we both reached out to apologise. We agreed to meet and talk things through calmly.
I realised I needed to not let my business mentality dominate our relationship.
Leke: I also had to learn to communicate better and respect the demands of her work.
On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?
Aina: I’d rate our love life at a solid 9. There’s always room for growth and improvement, but I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.
Leke: I’d also rate it a 9. Of course, no relationship is perfect, but overall, I’m extremely happy with where we are.
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Jeremiah* talks about his rollercoaster relationship with Mariam*, her constant cheating, how it affected them, and why he stayed, regardless.
This is Jeremiah’s* story, as told to Chioma.
I met Mariam* in 2013. We met through a friend, and there was just something intriguing about her. She was different, with all these layers, but she had a kind heart.
I wanted her. I wanted to be her knight in shining armour. In retrospect, that was my saviour complex throbbing with glee. Also, it didn’t hurt that she had a bombastic bunda.
After talking for four months, we finally got together. I don’t think we had a honeymoon phase. One second, we were getting to know each other as friends; the next, we were in a relationship, and she was accusing me of sleeping with every girl who walked my way.
It was ridiculous, but I still had my Superman cape on, and I tried to convince her that she was the only one I had eyes for. She had unrestricted access to my phone. I reassured her of our love every chance I got, but she never let it go.
See, Mariam* believed all men were cheats. She said, “I would rather trust a snake than a man”. So, as a card-carrying member of the male gender, I was a cheat too. It hurt, but I was determined to make it work, so I took it on the chin, and we continued dating.
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Then, I started getting uneasy about our relationship. I was being open about everything. She had access to my phone, and I would answer calls in front of her. She knew every step I took, but I was always left in the dark for some reason. Mariam* had CBN-level security on her phone. She would walk away from me and answer calls in hushed tones. Every time I asked her why she was moving like a drug dealer on steroids, she would brush it off.
After two years of constant cheating accusations, she finally met her Waterloo. She left her phone unlocked for some reason, and I saw her notifications, one said, “Don’t treat me like this. I love you.” I got curious and decided to go through her chats. Worst mistake of my life. I almost threw up. She was talking to three different guys, with one being married.
When I confronted her, she got upset that I had caught her and went on to gaslight me. She blamed me for her cheating ways, said it was because I wasn’t being serious with her, and we hadn’t gotten married yet.
I didn’t know how to feel. I was relieved because we had finally found the cheater in our relationship, and it wasn’t me; I was angry because she was most likely having sex with these men without protection like she was with me. Now that I think about it, though, I should have felt like an idiot. I allowed her to convince me that her cheating was my fault because I hadn’t shown her how serious I was about her.
We stayed together after our little cheating hurdle, and our relationship intensified. She wanted me to show her I was serious, so I did. But that did nothing for our relationship. We broke up a year later, in 2016, and she went on to get married to one of the men she cheated on me with.
