The Zikoko Bureau of Statistics is here again. After gathering evidence from over 3000 relationships and 450 single pringles who’ve made a name off giving relationship advice, we present the results of our study on how to know if your boyfriend is cheating. It’s sure to stand the test of time.
We won’t say if he has a password because duh. But what if when he doesn’t have a password? That is an even bigger red flag. That must mean he has a burner phone. We don’t make the rules.
Covering up your atrocities with kind acts? We know your type.
When he starts listening to Fela
It means he’s considering polygamy and has probably already started testing the waters.
This is Dorcas’* story, as told to Boluwatife
Image: Godisable Jacob via Pexels
I caused my first and only real heartbreak at 21, but even though it felt like tearing my heart out, I’d do it again if I had to.
I met Joseph* in 2014, our first year at the university. We were still settling into school life, and he was this active, outspoken guy who seemed to be everywhere at once. I, on the other hand, was what you’d describe as a wallflower. When the time came for us to choose a class governor, he was the obvious choice. That was how we got close. A lecturer had given us an assignment due at the end of the day, and I was nowhere near finished, so I met Joseph and begged him to delay submitting everyone’s work by an hour. He did, and that’s how we became friends.
He soon started telling me he liked me, and I liked how it seemed he only had eyes for me. We started dating about a month after the assignment incident and were together through all five years in school. It wasn’t all smooth, though.
Joseph was a loud and very ambitious person, a walking representation of an “I must get everything I want” mantra. He always wanted to be better than everyone, the poster boy of success. I’m the direct opposite of that.
As the daughter of a preacher, I grew up with a contentment mentality. My siblings and I were taught to enjoy the simple things — food, a roof over our heads and just enough money to meet our basic needs and maybe help those around us. Even though I started rebelling against religion around the time I entered university, I still have the same mindset. Economists tell us that man’s needs are unlimited; we’ll always want the next big thing. That sounds like a wasted life to me, where you can’t enjoy what you have because something else looks better, and you just need to have it. For as long as I can remember, I’ve just wanted to be. Not to want something so much, it affects my life.
This personality clash was the major cause of the fights Joseph and I had.
When he ventured into student union politics in our second year, he struggled to understand why I thought he needed to focus on his studies instead. He also didn’t understand why I was angry that he decided to spend all his savings on a Nokia Lumia when he still had a perfectly working phone because, in his words, “Everyone is using Nokia Lumia now”.
He also expected me to get that his sudden friendship and partying with shady guys on campus was because he needed to boost his street credibility ahead of running for student union president. Through all this, it didn’t occur to me to leave him. He was all I knew, and maybe this was due to his “must-have-everything” nature, but he constantly showered me with love and attention. There was no reason for me to want more.
The extent of how far he’d go for success only became fully apparent to me after we left school in 2019. He didn’t go for service immediately because he had to sort out some issues with the school’s senate, so I worked my NYSC posting to the same state we were in so he wouldn’t feel left out, and I’d be closer to him.
But even with that, he started getting frustrated about his mates being ahead of him, so he told me he’d decided to make money via internet fraud. I was shocked. This was someone whose parents were quite comfortable and who lacked nothing. His rationale was, Nigeria didn’t reward honest work, and that his parent’s money was theirs, not his. He gave two of his cousins as examples. They’d been working for about four years at the time, but still couldn’t afford a car. As is typical of him, he gave what he thought were convincing reasons why he had to “make a name” for himself. He said it was so he could also provide for me. He assured me he’d only do it for a few years until he made enough money to leave the country.
That’s when I mentally checked out of the relationship. If he could go this far to make money he didn’t really need, what happens if he someday became broke? I knew I had to leave, but I didn’t know how. Then about four months later, in late 2019, he landed a tech job. I was relieved, thinking it’d be the end of internet fraud. But remember what the economists say? He was used to having more and didn’t want to be limited to a salary, so he still did fraud on the side. That was what finally gave me the courage to end the relationship. I cried for weeks after, but I know it was the best decision I’ve ever made.
He’s a high-flying tech bro now — I see his exploits every now and then on LinkedIn — but I know he’ll always be looking for the next big thing, legal or not. I can’t live like that. If I’d stayed, we’d probably be a “power couple”, but I wouldn’t be at peace. I may never gather enough money from my 9-5 to go on a luxury vacation or japa, but I’m fulfilled with what I have; a career, friends and good health. I’m at peace.
*Names have been changed to protect their identity.
Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
How did you two meet?
Bamidele: It was something like a blind date in 2018.
A female friend at the office had been telling me about her for some months. But I didn’t want to get someone’s number and start getting to know them over the phone. And I’d been too busy with work and personal projects to follow her to hang out with them.
Finally, she asked me out for drinks even though she was in a committed relationship. I knew she wanted me to meet the person she’d been trying to hook me up with, so I was like, “Let me just finally meet this person.” I went along with it, and that’s how we met.
Joyce: It was completely blind for me. I didn’t know this friend of ours wanted to introduce me to anyone. I went to this lounge innocently and found myself on a blind date. It was the first time I’d ever been in that kind of situation. The friend left us, and we just sat there, talking a bit, trying to be cool.
Sounds like it was awkward
Joyce: Kind of. We weren’t really giving each other a chance. I don’t think we thought we’d ever see each other again.
Bamidele: That’s not true. I thought you were chill and wouldn’t have minded seeing you again.
Joyce: But you didn’t even ask for my number or socials.
Bamidele: I was absentminded. I guess a part of me knew I could get that from our friend, which I did much later.
So what happened after the first date?
Joyce: We didn’t see each other until our friend invited me for a get-together on her boyfriend’s street like two months later, and he was there.
About an hour after I arrived, we somehow drifted to each other and said hi. He told me he got my number from our friend and asked if he could call me later. I said he was free to. I remember thinking, “Why is this one forming?”
Bamidele: I wasn’t forming o. I was just extremely busy because my job at the time was killing me with work. I probably didn’t have any social activity between our blind date and that second meeting. My life was pretty much work and sleep that year.
Joyce: Anyway, he didn’t call until the following week.
He just called one Saturday night while I was watching Netflix. I almost didn’t pick up, but thank God for Truecaller. When I saw his name, I was surprised and really curious. We talked for like 30 seconds, then he said he’d chat me up on WhatsApp. Like an hour later, I got the ping, and that’s how we chatted on and off for the rest of the night. We talked about his work, my family, his trips out of Lagos and the movie I was watching.
Bamidele: It was a nice, light conversation. I like the way she answered and asked questions.
Joyce: But then, that was it for another month.
Bamidele: I had a huge project at work for the rest of the month, so I couldn’t really reach out.
Hmm. When did you now realise you liked each other?
Bamidele: The next month, I called and apologised for ghosting, and she made a joke out of it. I was like, “Why na?” I asked her if she wanted to hang out soon. We ended up going out for ice cream the next day, and I realised she could make a joke or witty statement out of anything. I thought that was really cool.
When we hung out again a week later, I found myself expecting the next joke and almost predicting the kind of statement she’d make every time I said something. Also, I noticed she had such a beautiful smile. I couldn’t not smile when she smiled.
Joyce: Meanwhile, I only make jokes like that when I’m nervous. My jokes help me cover my social anxiety, but I’m glad you find that beautiful.
I can’t tell when or how I started liking him. I just did. The first thing I admired about him was how serious he is about work. He’s so focused, and that’s why he’s now making plenty money for us. Also, he’s cute in that bookish way that’s so adorable. Lastly, he’s really smart. He helped me read for and pass one of my ICAN exams in 2019, and all my other exams since then.
That’s very important
Bamidele: That only happened after we started dating sha. Would I study for an exam with you if I don’t like you? No.
After we’d hung out about three times, I wanted to make it official. I asked her out during a beach hangout with my friends.
Joyce: It was really romantic but private; nobody knew he was asking me out. He took me out towards the water, and I was so happy when he said the words. Maybe it was the lagoon breeze blowing my head. I just accepted without even thinking twice.
When did like turn to love?
Joyce: I actually don’t know.
Bamidele: You never seem to know.
Joyce: Maybe because I’m always thinking of love as that over-the-top thing they describe in romance novels. Ours is very normal.
Bamidele: Wow. Ok o. Me too, I don’t know.
I just know that towards the end of 2019, I was ready to get married, so I started thinking deeply about our relationship and where it was going. Should I propose or not?
I was about to ask you to just move in with me when I met your mother.
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Huh?
Joyce: My father is no longer in the picture, so it’s just my mum and I. One day in January 2020, she insisted on meeting this guy I’d been claiming to date for over a year. I just told him, “My mum wants to meet you o. Will you come to my house?” Of course, he’d been to my house many times before, but only when my mother wasn’t around. I don’t even know why.
Bamidele: I eventually went with her to meet her mum, and as soon as I met her, I knew I wanted to marry Joyce.
No, my mother-in-law is a beautiful and kind woman. The way she treated me like I was already her son? She’d prepared a whole feast for us — amala and abula with ogufe and panla fish. She also bakes, so she made this moist chocolate cake with real chocolate in five slim layers. Then there were the juicy bananas she grew herself in her backyard.
I can’t even describe how full I was by the time I left the house that day. And we talked and talked about everything from work, business and the state of the country, to football and celebrity gist. She’s so easygoing, I can’t believe she’s a Yoruba mother.
By the time, I left the house, I was sure Joyce was the one for me, LOL.
Joyce: Thank you, Mummy.
How did the proposal and wedding go?
Bamidele: I took her back to the same beach for the proposal, but this time, it was just the two of us. Nothing too dramatic — I got on one knee and had a nice ring that cost me my whole salary for a month.
Joyce: Sweet.
Bamidele: The proposal was in February 2020, and before we could say, “Jack” or start thinking of family introductions, COVID started. Next thing we knew, lockdown.
We did the introductions right after the restrictions were lifted, in May/June, and took it slow from then on.
Joyce: My mum handled the wedding planning. She chose the aso-ebi and everything; she was in her element. I was kind of happy it couldn’t be as huge as she would’ve wanted because of COVID. I’ve always secretly wanted a quiet, close-knit ceremony. We had less than 20 people at the church and like 50/60 people at the traditional and reception — mostly close family members and our bestest friends. God did it.
Amen. What was your first major fight about?
Joyce: We actually don’t fight.
Bamidele: We’ve never fought.
Joyce: It’s so strange. We always look at each other when people say things like “Everyone fights, even people who are deeply in love”. But that’s never been us.
You mean, you’ve never disagreed?
Bamidele: Not really. Not in the real sense. We might want different things a lot, but we always come to some sort of agreement, and that has never led to a fight or quarrel.
Joyce: I just hope if it eventually happens, it won’t end up being an explosive one.
Bamidele: But I don’t think so. We’re not the kind of people to have explosive fights if at all. I’ve never had an explosive fight with anyone, why would I now have one with my wife?
Fair enough. How has this relationship been different from past ones?
Bamidele: Now that I think about it, the lack of fights.
Also, how involved my mother-in-law is. She’s very present, offering advice and helping us manage our finances. It may sound weird, but it’s so convenient. She takes the burden of taking care of our son off us completely. My own mother is jealous, but she lives all the way in Ilorin. I don’t want to uproot her from the life she’s established there.
Joyce: For me, it’s the fact that we’re married. I’ve never been married before. That’s definitely different. This is for life now.
What’s the best thing about being married to each other?
Joyce: Being able to leverage each other’s strengths.
For example, our combined earning power has helped us carry out many projects I doubt I’d have been able to see through on my own. We’ve just made a down payment for a property in Ibeju Lekki, and we’re about to buy land in Osapa London. I’ve always wanted to own property, but I honestly don’t think I could’ve done it alone.
Also, we get to use each other’s networks to get ahead at work and scale our businesses. As I mentioned earlier, his advanced knowledge has helped me pass many certification exams I would’ve been cracking my head to pass on my own. Combining our knowledge makes us twice as smart. He’s more or less my career mentor.
Bamidele: Everything she said plus the constant companionship.
I also want to add that her mother has been a great addition to my life. She makes things so easy between us without being a burden in any way. She’s loving, supportive and great with our son.
How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1 to 10?
Joyce: I think he loves my mum too much, so I’ll say 6 or 7.
Bamidele: Wow. I’m sorry o. For me, 8. But I think it can only get better.
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.
Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here.
When was the first moment you realised your father wasn’t there?
Gosh. That’s a tough one.
I grew into the realisation that I had a father but he was gone. At first, I didn’t understand what “gone” meant, but over time, I found out he’d died way before I can remember. I’m not sure there’s one specific moment when I was told. It’s just something I knew as I started becoming aware of what was going on around me as a child. But I didn’t feel like I was missing much because my mum was very present, and so were her sister and my grandparents. It was a strong family unit.
Did you ever have to ask what happened to him?
Yes, at different times.
The first time was in primary six — I remember because I was just about to graduate from primary school. I was nine or ten. My mum was showing me old pictures when we got to a selection of his pictures. I was in pretty much all of his pictures. He’d carry me in his arms whether it was at a wedding, in his studio, or on the road somewhere. I was always in his arms.
Usually, my mum would quickly hide or dodge anything that was remotely about him so I wouldn’t see. And I’d pretend not to notice. This time, I saw her hesitate, but she didn’t hide the pictures, so it was the perfect opportunity to ask, “What happened to him?” I still remember my small voice saying those words as we sat together in her bedroom, trying hard to be brave for whatever response I got.
And what did she say?
She said, “He loved God so much, he had to go be with him. But it was an accident”. She didn’t say anything else, and I was too scared to push.
But sometime in secondary school, I asked my grandma about the accident, and she said she didn’t want me thinking about that. She told me a bit about him, how much he loved me and was always happiest when he was with me. I know the stories were supposed to make me feel better, but I hated them. I hated that I had no memory of this man.
I’d look at his picture and couldn’t even imagine his voice, what he felt or behaved like. But there I was in his arms, smiling up at him and him smiling back at little me. I don’t remember that interaction. All I have is third-party information. It made me so angry.
My mum has always been there for me, but she’s even more affected by his death than I am. She knew him for years, and they’d only been married for about a year when he died. Sometimes, I think I have to put aside figuring out my own little grief to be a source of comfort to her. She never remarried, and she barely ever dates, so it’s just me and her against the world. We support each other.
As a child, she did her best and sought help from her own family to take care of me, so where she struggled emotionally, they were there to make sure I was okay. I appreciate that she was that forward-thinking. She also used to ask me how I was doing all the time, almost too much.
Her care made me feel secure during my early years. So I’d say yes, my relationship with her helped.
How did other people’s relationships with their fathers make you feel?
Interestingly, most of my friends had terrible relationships with their fathers. One of them has a father who married another wife and treated her and her mum badly, another one’s mum never married her father so she’d only see him like once a year when he visited from the States, and one’s father has several wives and baby mamas.
So I guess I’m in perfect company. And I’ve been friends with these guys since secondary school.
Is it something you ever discuss, how you all have absent fathers one way or the other?
We almost never do. We focus on aspects of our lives that exist: our strong mothers, other healthy relationships we’ve managed to build, money, and so on.
So did you ever find out how he died?
My mother told me after I graduated from college years ago. He was killed in a money-related fight, but the killer was never found despite years of investigation. I cried for days when she finally told me; it was like he’d just died. He looked like such a beautiful and gentle man in his photos. I couldn’t imagine him dying so violently.
I can’t say how, sorry.
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I understand
And he left everything to me. He was a music producer and businessman, and he was pretty successful. He was smart enough to draw up a will years before he died, and he signed everything over to me. I live a very comfortable life today because of him. It’s so bittersweet because I never knew him, yet here I am, benefiting from him.
Would you say you’re still affected by his death today?
I can’t escape it.
He was popular. So when I go out, once people learn who I am, they feel the need to talk about him. They share how they knew him, what he was like, how amazing he was. But I never knew him, so it’s like, “How nice. Here’s another stranger who knows more about my father than I ever will”. People even feel the need to ask me what it’s like to have a father like him.
Sigh. How do you get past that?
I’ve become a lot more private in the last couple of years. I stay away from the Nigerian and Ghanaian social scene and focus on my work as an investor. My life is just me, my mum and my few friends now.
It’s hard not to think about my father at all since I help my mum manage his legacy, but I try not to. I also don’t look at his pictures anymore because I’m in 90% of them. They remind me of how much he wanted to be in my life but never got a chance to, and also, how much of his last years I spent in his company yet I don’t even remember.
It seems small, but every time I think about it, I can’t seem to process it without breaking down. My therapist says it’s a barrier in my psyche.
I’m so sorry. Did you have a father figure growing up?
Oh, my granddaddy was my father. He was everything, God rest his soul. He was such a steadying presence in my life. I’d say he’s the reason why I never had to miss my dad. He attended open days on my mum’s behalf a lot. He was so warm and would play with me when I was a child. All my friends loved him.
My grandmother too was something of a father figure to me because she was so firm — the disciplinarian of the house. These are my mum’s parents, by the way. My dad’s parents came and went too. I don’t think I missed much in the way of parenting.
Would you say your feelings about your father affected your romantic relationships?
In a way. I’m afraid to be vulnerable. My therapist links it to the fact that I can’t process my relationship with my father in a healthy way.
I’m way too guarded, so many of my relationships fizzle out after a while. I’m currently in one, and it’s already getting to the part where we have little to talk about. It’s been about eight months, but I can’t seem to open my heart beyond sex, romantic gestures and mundane conversations. Then again, is there supposed to be something more beyond that? Maybe I’m not the only problem.
I was so far away from my family and drowning in depression. I had no interest in studying the art history I’d got in for; no interest in anything at all, TBH. I had no idea what I was passionate about. It’ll break my mum’s heart, but I was drunk, high and in bed for most of my three years there.
Once I’d graduated and had to return to Accra, a friend of mine suggested a therapist. When I first met one sometime in 2014, I wasn’t really thinking about my dad. But he ended up coming up at the first session, as part of what makes me sad or angry.
What’s one thing that gives you joy despite it all?
How lucky I am to have a father who cares, even from the grave.
My mum always said he loved me so much while he was alive, she’s sure he’s watching over me as my guardian angel now; giving God a tough time every time I have the slightest inconvenience.
And she may be right because I’m living a good life.
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Recently, American actress Gabrielle Union and her husband became the subject of multiple internet think pieces after she revealed they take a 50/50 approach to their finances as a married couple.
Considering Nigeria’s mainly patriarchial society that still pushes the male-head-of-household mantra, I reached out to married Nigerian women to confirm whether there are Nigerian homes that employ the 50/50 approach to finances, too. It turns out, there are.
“At least, nobody can call me a burden” — Tola*, 33
I got married immediately after graduating from the university in 2015. I didn’t have a job, but he made enough money for both of us. He never complained about it, and I didn’t think getting a job was necessary. When we had twins in 2017, he began to murmur about expenses. One day, I asked him for money for a friend’s asoebi, and he said, “Do you want to kill me with demands?” I reported him to an older friend who told me to get something to do if I didn’t want my husband to develop hypertension.
When my children turned six months, I told my husband I wanted to find a job. He agreed, and luckily, I found a job quickly and got my sister to live with us and help out with the kids. Now, I give him half of my salary immediately it enters and still buy things in the house. My family usually says, “Isn’t your husband supposed to be taking care of you?” I don’t care. At least nobody can call me a burden.
“It just works” — Precious*, 29
My husband and I have a joint account, (separate from our personal accounts), where we send half of our salaries at the end of every month. It’s money from this account we use to sort out household expenses. We’ve done that for two years now, and it works for us. When money in the joint account isn’t sufficient for a particular expense, my husband makes up the difference.
“It’s my way of showing support” — Lolade*, 27
My husband and I have always gone 50/50, even before marriage. We’d go 50/50 for major dates and did the same for our wedding. Now, he handles household expenses like rent, fuel and major home repairs, while I handle groceries, data and Netflix bills, and little needs. When we have kids, we’ll also figure out a way to split. I earn more than he does, so it’s my way of showing support.
“It’s quite tough” — Mimi*, 36
My husband is really conservative. If not for the state of the nation, he wouldn’t even allow me to work at all. He got me a clothes retail shop some years ago on the condition that I’d use my income to support the home. It started out well, but recently, I’ve had to take up almost 70% of the household expenses, including the children’s school fees. He’s usually owed salaries at his workplace, so most times, we have to borrow from my business. This money hardly gets refunded. It’s quite tough because I have zero savings, and I can’t even complain because it’d seem like I’m being disrespectful.
When we decided to move to Lekki to be closer to work in 2021, we agreed that we’d have to split the ₦3m rent because neither of us could afford it alone. That’s the only thing we split 50/50. For other household expenses, we just attend to them as they come. He can buy foodstuff at the supermarket on his way home today, and I can remember we need engine oil when I step out tomorrow and just buy it.
“It’s not a rigid arrangement” — Chinny*, 30
My husband and I each earn below ₦100k per month, and we know it’s impossible to have an average standard of living if we rely on only one person’s salary. So, we pool half of our resources together to settle the bills and school fees of our two kids. It’s not a rigid arrangement. Some months, I may take up 70% of the expenses, and other times it’s 40%. We just do whatever we can to survive.
“It sometimes feels unfair” — Glory*, 31
My husband and I decided to go 50/50 when I got a job that paid more than his in 2021, but it sometimes feels unfair. I only agreed to go 50/50 when money started being an issue in the house. He felt I had money but was comfortable with him being broke, so I agreed to the arrangement to let peace reign. His idea of 50/50 doesn’t apply to household chores. I still do everything in the home. I’ve brought this up a number of times, but he takes it to mean I want to start ordering him around because I have money. If I can support him with the finances, why can’t he support me with chores?
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
It’s always something with relationship people, whether they are together or long departed. This time around, the drama is between ex-celebrity lovers, Iyanya and Yvonne Nelson.
They’re both driving our Twitter timelines crazy, with scandal-inclined excerpts from Yvonne’s memoir I’m Not Yvonne Nelson dropping every other minute. We don’t subscribe to the drama, but here’s why we think they might both be in on it.
It’s giving publicity stunt
Both Iyanya and his ex, Yvonne Nelson, have new projects (an EP and a book) out at the moment and don’t African celebrities do anything for clout?
Yes, they once dated
If you didn’t know, Iyanya and Yvonne were a thing. The singer even gave the Ghanaian diva a shout-out in his 2013 hit song, Your Waist, and tattooed her initials on his waist. God, abeg. The union sadly came to an end in 2015, and in her memoir, Nelson claims Iyanya was nothing but a lying cheater.
Iyanya and My Love Life
There’s an entire chapter in Yvonne Nelson’s memoir dedicated to Iyanya, and who is drumming it in our ears?
The drama keeps getting messier because how did Tonto Dikeh come into the picture? Yvonne Nelson claims the Nollywood actress was in fact the one cheating with Iyanya. An excerpt from the memoir reads:
“When I was convinced about the authenticity of the information I received, I was heartbroken. I took to Twitter to rant and vent. Tonto Dikeh responded on Twitter, saying people change and so did feelings, so l should move on.”
Source: selthebomb
“There’s no proof sha” — Iyanya
This is the hill Iyanya is willing to die on. The singer asked Yvonne Nelson to name the source in his camp who hinted about his “thing” with Tonto Dikeh.
What’s the name of the person who called her from my house ? After that question we will answer if her accusations are true or false and what really transpired. “LOVE & TRUST” https://t.co/TTFlfBiO9x
She hasn’t said jack. This either means she’s not part of whatever Iyanya and Yvonne have going on, or she doesn’t consider it worth her time right now.
The tracks in Iyanya’s new EP
Apparently, track 1 and 6 from Iyanya’s new EP are titled Love and Trust and Breakfast. If you ask us, too much going on here to be a mere coincidence.
The exes are working twice as hard
If you no wan listen pass go listen to other artiste Abeg. Those who love the project will share and keep streaming. Person wey him family member never plant anything for him life Dey here Dey give advice😂 https://t.co/jxSHMKFzBl
Amid the entire chaos, guess who’s jumping on every sub tweet to reroute the discourse to his new music project? Yvonne, on the hand, seems to have started a book tour.
You might think you know the answer, but do you really know?
Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
How did you two meet?
Uduak: I met him through my brother-in-law. He told me an old friend of his was looking for someone to marry, and he thought we’d get along well. This was sometime in 2009. He asked me if he could share my number, and I said yes.
JJ: I got her number and called her that night. We agreed to meet later in the week during my off day. I used to work with a family to take care of their house, make sure everything was running and working well 24/7 and run some major errands for them.
We met after church service on a Sunday afternoon. I went to her church to pick her up, and we went to eat in an eatery in Calabar South. I bought us some snacks and two bottles of Fanta — every time our lastborn hears this story, he says that’s why he loves Fanta so much.
My first impression of her in her choir uniform — and the way she spoke as we talked in the eatery — was good.
Uduak: We didn’t stay there for long. Once we ate the snacks and talked for some minutes, he told me of his intentions to start seeing me, with the bottom line being for us to get married. I was a little concerned because I’d just finished from the polytechnic a month before that and was still struggling to find work. But he said he didn’t mind, so my mind became at rest.
He eventually helped me get a job as his boss’s neighbour’s stay-at-home nanny.
When did you realise you liked each other?
JJ: As soon as I heard her voice that first night on the phone, I knew I liked her. She has a sweet, gentle voice that calms me every time she talks, even till today. Meeting her for the first time only made me sure about it.
Uduak: I think I liked him when we first met, but it took some time for me to be sure. After seeing each other once a week then twice and thrice a week, I began to long to see him. That’s how I knew something was happening between us.
JJ: After she got the job with my neighbours — I used to stay in my boss’s BQ — they started complimenting her, saying she was a good girl, and they noticed the difference in how their baby behaved since she started taking care of her. This made me know she would be a good wife and take care of our children well. I started liking her even more.
JJ: When we started spending more time together. After about two or three months, she started coming to visit more often, and she would bring food, or manage my small bachelor’s gas top to cook something fresh for me in the BQ. I loved the time and care she put into these meals, often spending her own money to make them rich.
She would sleep over at my place on her off days. When they clashed with my own off days, we had time to talk and get to know each other even more. By the end of that year — five months after we started seeing each other — I was ready to propose, so I went to talk to my elder brother about her.
Uduak: It was the way he always looked out for me, helped me run errands or take care of my younger ones who used to come around sometimes when he was free. He’d even make time to accompany me to places I didn’t want to go alone. He was always there for me. And then, he helped me get my first job with that nice family. That showed real love and care, so I had no choice but to fall in love.
He also helped my family out in any little way he could, sending me and my siblings ₦2k here and there. He tried his best from early on in our relationship. I also did the best I could to make sure he was happy and comfortable.
Great
JJ: One thing I loved that she did was decorate my room in those early months. She brought some nicely framed pictures to put on my walls, some artificial flowers and those solid air fresheners in boxes. She also made new bedsheets and curtains for me.
Uduak: I trained as a tailor while I was in poly, so it was the least I could do. I wanted to make his place look as best as it could.
JJ: For my first birthday while we were together, she got one of my pictures and framed it for me as a gift. It was the best gift I’d ever received at that point. I actually cried a little when I saw it.
What was your first major fight about?
Uduak: After I got pregnant, my aunty who was my primary guardian in Calabar, asked me to move in with him. He wasn’t happy about it because he didn’t think the BQ was okay for us to live together. He was also concerned about what his boss would think.
But my aunty told other family members about the pregnancy, and they didn’t trust him. They thought he was trying to avoid taking responsibility, and I was being a fool. My aunty told me, “You think I no know say you dey sleep for that same BQ when you dey off, instead of coming back to this house? So why the place suddenly no okay for you now wey you don carry belle?”
I did as they said and pack into his house in February 2010.
JJ: I’d already decided to marry her, but I was still putting money together to leave my oga’s house and start a small printing business. I was doing it small small, printing cards and other corporate items for the company where my boss worked. But I had to share most of the profit with him, and I didn’t have time to push the business while working with him at home.
I had other side work I was doing while saving towards the business and marriage expenses, but I wasn’t making enough to take care of a family yet. While I was planning towards it, the baby came some months too early. I wish she and her family had been more patient with me. Living together in my oga’s BQ wasn’t the plan at all.
Uduak: The night I moved in, he didn’t come home. I didn’t see him till my next off day, which was two weeks later. I could tell he was still angry. Things were rough between us during the first month of my stay, and I was scared. But after a while, it became better, and we started talking properly.
When did he finally propose?
Uduak: He didn’t really propose. About four months after I moved in, he and his people went to see my parents in the village. They agreed to let him marry me but gave him a list of things he needed to do first.
JJ: Everything in that list cost about ₦500k that year, which is like ₦1.5m in today’s money. I didn’t have that kind of money. So I had to work for over a year to raise it. I would buy the different things small small and send them to her village — one goat here, two two cartons of stout, just like that.
During that time, the baby came, and we had to move to our own place. We also had to leave our jobs, so things were tight. I started pushing the printing business small small and doing some buying and selling. My brothers and one of my uncles also chipped in.
But before we could finally go to the village and do the traditional wedding, she was pregnant again. We did the ceremony anyway because I didn’t feel good carrying on with her in my home, already starting a family without marrying her properly. I wanted her and her family to know I valued her. She’s a good woman.
Uduak: When we finally went to my village, I could tell he was happy. His face was glowing. He felt proud that he could buy me my traditional attire with the thick beads, headgear and makeup. And I was also happy that he made all that effort for me.
It reminded me of Jacob in the Bible, and how he went above and beyond for Rachael.
JJ: The traditional ceremony drained my pocket.
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It was for a good cause. How has this relationship been different from past ones?
JJ: This was my first relationship where I said, “I’m ready to be serious and settle down,” before I even went into it. So the way I approached everything was different.
In my past relationships, it was just “This is my girlfriend. Let’s have fun and go crazy. Who cares?” But with her, it’s, “This is my wife. She will be the mother of my children.” Her welfare and happiness have always been my priority, so instead of thinking fun, fun, fun, I’m always thinking, “Are you okay? Am I making you happy?”
It was like that from the first day.
Uduak: That’s true. When I started seeing him, there was this gentleness and respect he accorded me that made me feel loved.
I had two boyfriends while I was in the polytechnic, but my relationship with JJ made me feel like they didn’t care about me. They just used me to pass time, and that’s why both of those relationships ended so easily. They were going nowhere. This relationship is the first one where the man knew he wanted something serious out of it and worked to get it.
And he has worked really hard for me and our family. I do my best to match his strength and hard work.
What’s the most unconventional thing about your relationship?
Uduak: Even though we had the traditional wedding in 2012, do you know we did white wedding only two years ago? I know many people will say why did we bother after so long? I’ve always wanted to be married before God, so I made him promise that we will one day. I wanted us to have a proper church wedding and a reception after, like everyone else.
I know it might sound like I’m greedy.
JJ: She’s not greedy. It’s always been her dream, and I encouraged her to hope for it. I didn’t want to deny her that. It’s money that made it take so long. I want to give her everything that’ll make her happy.
Uduak: Thank you.
JJ: After all, we didn’t go to the registry until 2018, so time is only a number.
You mean, a court wedding? Why did it take you that long?
JJ: We thought we’d do it together with the white wedding, but we kept postponing.
One day, her aunty called me and started shouting, “You mean you people no go court sign paper? That means say you never legally marry? You just dey play with my daughter. Anything happen now, you go bring another wife chase her and her pikin comot.” I was so embarrassed, but what she said made sense. We were being irresponsible.
When I went to my brother about it, he was shocked we hadn’t done it yet. So I made some enquiries, and we went to Calabar Municipal with her aunty and my eldest brother as witnesses.
Uduak: Our three kids at the time witnessed it, too. Bobo was only one year old then.
What’s the best thing about being married to each other?
Uduak: I finally have someone to take care of me. I’ve been alone for too long since I moved to Calabar after secondary school when I was just 16. I had my aunty, who took care of me as best she could, but she wasn’t that caring. And some of my siblings also moved in and out of Calabar, but we haven’t really been together since we all left the village.
Being married gives me my own family I can love and nurture how I want.
JJ: Having your own family can be comforting because you can run it how you see fit and make sure everyone is together. It comes with its struggles, especially when you’re the man of the house and it’s your responsibility to bring money home. But I take the responsibility wholeheartedly, and we’ve built a beautiful family.
Uduak: Yes, we have four beautiful children now. And it’s not always easy, but they make everything worth it.
How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1 to 10?
JJ: 10
Uduak: 10
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From the dates to the lines, sex, ups and downs and everything in between, the 40+ Anonymous monthly series covers the dating life of our 40+ anonymous writer.
My bum is the type you see first before you see the owner. What’s unique about it is that it’s accompanied by wide hips and a considerably smaller waist. “Unique?!” I hear you, my reader, laughing. At least it was ten years ago before Dr. 90210 opened up shops on every street corner — original follow come.
“Follow come” is Nigerian Pidgin English for accessories that come with a brand-new product. But when used to describe body parts in the 21st century, it means “God-given”, as opposed to surgically enhanced.
Back to my ten-year-old story, and a beach party I attended with my then-boyfriend. It was there that I realised that not all bums are created equal. I met a lady whose bum and hip-to-waist ratio made me look like a prepubescent boy. She was quite popular on the blogs for fighting and drama. As a regular 9-5er, I was fascinated and somewhat horrified by her. She came with her own boyfriend, who was extremely quiet. I remember thinking this woman would eat him for breakfast and went back to minding my business.
Fast forward a year, after I had chopped breakfast of the heartbreak variety, I decided to take the heartbreak hot body route as opposed to crying into mounds of amala every night. I ran five miles every morning and another five miles every night. It was during one of those nightly runs that I ran into (let’s call her “Lady B”) Lady B’s boyfriend.
“I know you,” he said, cocking his head to the side like he was trying to remember where from. I never forget a face. “Or a bum,” my mind silently interjected. However, I remained silent as I watched him try to place me and keep up with my pace as I continued jogging.
“The beach!” he exclaimed. I nodded.
“You were there with your girlfriend,” I replied.
“She’s no longer in the picture,” he said.
“Does she know that?” I said, half-laughing but dead serious.
“She’s moved on as well,” he responded, side-stepping my jab about his fierce girlfriend.
“What about that young boy you were always following? Has that one scattered too?” he asked.
“That one has scattered as well,” I replied.
We both laughed.
And that’s how we went from two strangers to friends who jogged together every night. I later found out this man detested jogging. He’d go to an intense boot camp early in the evening then come back and still jog with me, just to spend time together.
But this story isn’t about our love, although that, too, eventually scattered. It’s about “follow come”.
As I got to know this guy, I marveled at how great a catch he seemed to be: smart, intelligent, patient, successful (C-Suite at a multinational) and laid back. I couldn’t reconcile him with the woman he dated before me — a girl who fought in clubs and ended up on gossip blogs.
I’d often ask, “What did you guys have in common?”
He’d shrug his shoulders and change the subject.
But it bothered me because there was one obvious similarity between Lady B and me: a big bum and small waist. But can someone be so fixated on a physical trait that they disregard everything else?
I couldn’t let this thought go because I was afraid of what it said about the depth of our relationship. Was he looking for love or just a nice body? Now, don’t get me wrong, you can have love and a nice body, but the latter shouldn’t be the priority.
Our relationship progressed, and one year in, he invited me over to meet his mum. The usual anxiety kicked in — would she like me, what should I bring, and so on. The day came, and we went to meet his mother.
When I arrived, his mum — who was 80 years old at the time — was in the kitchen cooking up a storm. The kitchen had a hole in the wall connecting it to the living room. She waved me away when I asked if she needed help and engaged in conversation as she moved about the kitchen.
A petite woman, no taller than 5’3″, I could just about see her head through the opening in the wall. She laughed, joked and teased us as well as the maid who was helping her. I couldn’t help but think, “No wonder this man is so great; his Mama is amazing.”
About 30 minutes later, Mama emerged from the kitchen and announced that she would freshen up and give us some privacy. As she turned away, there was no mistaking it — the original “follow come” bum and small waist.
You can’t have a soft relationship if you still have one leg in the streets. Hang your boots and say “Bye bye” to the streets because you’re boo’d up now.
You have to talk to them every day
Forget what people say online about not talking to their partners every day. If you’re reaching for relationship goals, you have to be sending life updates to your partner every hour. It’s not couple goals if you act like you can live without them.
Learn their love languages
Relationships are hardwork, and everyone wants to be loved differently. So you need to learn your partner’s love languages so your gestures aren’t entering one ear and leaving through the other.
Put your relationship online
How can we tag your relationship “couple goals” if we don’t even know about its existence? Put your relationship online so you can choke everyone with cuteness. As Kizz Daniel wisely said “Trouble their timelines, chop all their megabytes”.
Take cute photos in matching outfits
It’s not enough to put the relationship online. You must also wear matching outfits and take pictures in them so they can know that your relationship has its own uniform.
Drop relationship nuggets for other people
Have you really completed the couple goals story arc if you don’t start dishing out unsolicited advice to single people?
Be ready to share almost everything
You’re not ready for couple goals if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of sharing. You’ll share your space, your time, and you’ll msot definitely share your money with them. That’s why it makes sense to use Brassmoney to manage your finances in a relationship.
With Brassmoney, you and your partner can easily set up a joint (shared) account that you both have control over. What’s even better is that you can save, budget and track your finances easily. All you have to do is download the app from the App Store or Play Store and create an account to get started. You can also visit their website for more information.
Even the single folks aren’t left out
Even if you’re yet to get boo’d up, there’s still so much you can do with the Brassmoney app. You can save, track your finances, make budgets, and even buy airtime and data to hate on people in relationships on the internet. All you have to do is download the app from the App Store or Play Store and create an account to get started. When they ask who referred you, tell them it was Zikoko.
