It happened at a glamorous gala on Friday, October 2, 2026, with comedian Bovi and actor Osas Ighodaro steering the evening. Against a black-and-gold backdrop befitting a golden jubilee, Eko Hotels celebrated five decades of hospitality and the people and organisations who have shared in its journey.聽

For a place that has spent 50 years hosting other people鈥檚 big moments, it was a well-earned turn in the spotlight. And our family had the pleasure of leaving with a gold-trimmed souvenir.

Yes, our parent company went to a birthday celebration and came home with an award. We approve of this arrangement. But to understand why the recognition means something to us, we have to talk about the celebrant.

In Lagos, some addresses require a landmark, a voice note and a final phone call to someone standing outside. Eko Hotels has the advantage of being the landmark. Even if you have never checked into a room, there is a fair chance it has entered your life through a bus stop call, the cause of road traffic, an invitation, a concert ticket, a wedding photograph or an awards-show red carpet you had strong opinions about.

Eko Hotels opened in 1977 on Victoria Island, Lagos, as the 脠k贸 Holiday Inn, one of four major venues (including the entire Festac Town and the National Theatre) that exist today because of FESTAC ’77. Today, the 鈥渋nn鈥� has over 820 to 825 rooms across four distinct properties.

For five decades, it has provided a setting for the things Nigerians like to gather for. Essentially, love, music, business, achievement and the opportunity to dress as though someone might be presenting them with a lifetime achievement award. Eko Hotels has become part of how Lagos celebrates itself.

That is a considerable legacy in a city with an enthusiastic appetite for the next big thing.

Keeping a place in people鈥檚 lives for 50 years requires successive generations to find their own reasons to return. The wedding guests become wedding hosts, new performers take the stage, new businesses arrive with ideas that would have been difficult to explain to the people attending conferences there decades earlier. Somewhere along the way, our own family became part of that story.

Through Moonshot by TechCabal, TechCabal has brought founders, investors, policymakers, creatives and technology professionals together at the Eko Convention Centre to discuss what Africa is building and what it will take to move it forward. It is a gathering built around the ambitious proposition that the people working on the continent鈥檚 future should have opportunities to meet, question one another, exchange ideas and make useful connections.

Naturally, this also involves lanyards. Quite a lot of lanyards.

For 糖心原创 readers, the connection might seem less obvious at first. Your favourite Love Life instalment and a room full of startup founders do not necessarily look like close relatives. But they belong to the same curious family. At 糖心原创, we are interested in how Nigerians live and everyday absurdities that make a life. At TechCabal, the focus turns to the technology and businesses changing the conditions in which those lives unfold.

Both require paying attention to people and depend on audiences who keep showing up because they expect to find something worth their time.

That makes this recognition a welcome moment for the people doing the work across pubs. From the journalists and editors (us!) to the creative and commercial teams, and the people organising the gatherings that bring our communities into the same room.

It also gives us an excuse to thank you.

Every story you read, share, argue with or send to a friend with 鈥渢his is literally you鈥� helps this work travel. You give our stories an audience and, very often, a second life in the group chat. We know better than to underestimate that institution.

As Eko Hotels celebrates its golden jubilee, we are pleased to have a place in this chapter of its story. We congratulate the team on five decades of welcoming people to Lagos and giving the city somewhere to gather. And we thank them for the Appreciation and Legacy Award presented to our sis, TechCabal.

Fifty years is a lot of history to host. Being invited into the anniversary album? We鈥檒l happily take that.

TechCabal is bringing 7,000 founders, investors, operators, creators, and talent from across Africa and beyond to at the National Theatre in Lagos on October 28 & 29.
This is the best opportunity to join the convergence of Africa鈥檚 best builders.
If you are seeking investors, enterprise partners, cofounders, or your next employer, while hearing directly from some of the continent’s boldest builders. Moonshot is the perfect place to be.

What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame, about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way.

The subject of today鈥檚 #WhatSheSaid is Imoteda Aladekomo, a 40-year-old Lagos-based entrepreneur. She talks about choosing single motherhood at 20, getting kicked out of home for stopping church, reinventing herself from makeup artist to chef, and creating a life around the work, people and pleasures she loves. 

Can you tell me about yourself?

I鈥檓 Chef Imoteda, a Le Cordon Bleu-trained chef, culinary consultant, and restaurateur, among other things. 

My parents named me Adetomi, but it was too damn common a name. One day in secondary school, I flipped it and realised 鈥淚moteda鈥� also means something in Yoruba: 鈥淜nowledge of mankind/the people.鈥� It sounded deep to young me, so I started telling everyone that was my name. 

You鈥檝e made quite a name for yourself in the culinary world. How do you feel about it all?

When I woke up on the morning of my 40th birthday through to my birthday lunch this year, I kept thinking, 鈥淭his is comfortable. I feel very at peace, very at ease.鈥� And I was very happy about that. I’ve built a life I’m comfortable in.

What does 鈥渃omfortable鈥� look like for you?

Being able to get up and do what I want. I’m not a huge travel or designer-buying person. I’m not an adventure junkie, so my life may seem boring, but it’s being able to have a life that’s boring in my way. 

I can afford everything I need on a day-to-day basis. I have a great group of friends, a decent number of people I can call on if I ever need anything. I wake up every day and can say, “What do I want to do today?” Then, I do exactly what I want to do that day. It’s a little bit insane to have that much control over my life.

Do you ever think your life could have turned out differently?

Oh, my life could have gone in a million different directions. 

I was supposed to get married quite young. Thank God that didn’t happen. I would have had a very miserable life if it had.

Oh, please tell me about that

It’s the usual. I got pregnant early. At exactly 20 years old, actually. I was going to marry the father of my child. He turned out to be abusive, so I didn’t do that. I chose to be a single mum over marrying him; best decision of my life.

He’s six months younger than I am. So, we were both young and dumb. My mum said, “You’re already pregnant. The worst has already happened. Don’t compound it by making it even worse.” Before I decided not to marry him, I wondered why she was saying this. Afterwards, I was like, “You know what? Shout-out to you, Mum. You knew what you were talking about.”

When did you realise he was abusive?

While I was pregnant. I actually remember the day I started planning my exit. I’d fallen, and I remember thinking, “Yeah, I gotta go. This cannot be my life for the rest of my life.” 

I even . 

During pregnancy, when you’re ill, once a woman is vulnerable, the chances of domestic abuse ramp up. Because you’re somewhat dependent on someone for your well-being, you start to really see the cracks. We would argue a lot. Before I got pregnant, we were fine, but after, things started happening. 

What was the first thing you remember happening?

I remember we were talking about teaching our baby French versus Spanish. 

I’ve never liked French. Even though everybody says it’s the language of love, to me it’s very guttural. I’d said I wanted our child to learn Spanish because I love Spanish. And he went on about how I’m so stupid, why would I want her to speak Spanish as opposed to French, when French is a more universal language.

I remember sitting there like, “I know this guy didn’t just call me stupid because I said I prefer Spanish to French. From where to where?” I was like, “Hmm, okay. I’m going to put a pin in that and think about it later.”

And then, it became a constant in our conversations. I’d have an opinion on something, and he’d immediately want to call it stupid or silly or frivolous. I was like, “Okay, yeah, all right. Pack it up. Pack it up. Pack it up. This can’t be my life.”

What was life like after leaving him?

My parents really supported my daughter and me so we could live a decent life. They had plenty of say in the way she was raised. But there were a lot of decisions I made that disappointed my dad. 

I pulled my daughter out of the school he wanted her to attend because I didn’t like the way they treated her, and he got really upset about that.

I can imagine

Another thing that disappointed him was when I stopped going to church. 

We got into a fight, and he kicked me out of the house for that. I was in my late 20s by then. I’m completely irreligious now, but my mum’s a reverend, so I do go to church occasionally to support her. She’s a chaplain of a Methodist church, and I’m very proud of her. I like calling her 鈥淩everend鈥�.

My dad is very involved in the church, too. He’s quite religious.

Did the church treat you differently because you were a young single mum?

I feel like there’s always supposed to be a dramatic reason somebody deviates from the church, but there really wasn’t one for me. Church was actually fine. When I got pregnant, my dad gave a testimony. When the father of a child comes up in front of the entire church and says, “Thank God for my child’s pregnancy,” you’re not coming to tell the child nonsense. 

And my dad isn鈥檛 someone people generally want to mess with. When he did that, it let everybody know, “This thing has happened o, but don’t get it twisted. This is still my child.鈥�

Even though he did later kick you out for this same church… that was so cool!

Haha. I love that he did that.

My parents covered me a lot with friends and family, too. One of my uncles called me on the phone one time and was like, “You know, if your parents won’t tell you that they’re ashamed of you, I’ll tell you for them.”

I told my mum, and she was so upset. She said, “First of all, what’s his business? Secondly, does he think I don’t have a mouth? Who is he to tell you that we’re ashamed of you?”

I’ll forever be thankful to my parents because they set the tone for how people should treat me within the family. It didn’t really translate to outside the family, but at least within, I was covered.

What was it like outside the family?

Nigerians treat becoming a single mum like the worst thing in the world. It’s unfortunate, very clich茅, but very true. 

There was a lot of “You’ve ruined your life鈥�. Even my friends said it when I was pregnant. I remember one ex of mine really wanted me to get an abortion. And I was just like, “You’re not even the father of the child. Why is it doing you?”

What would surprise that Imoteda most about her life now, at 40?

I’d be surprised that I wasn’t still a makeup artist. That would shock 20-year-old me!

I used to be a proper makeup artist. I had big plans of opening my own studio, makeup line and all these other things. I used to do film, television, blood and guts, all that kind of stuff. It’s kind of crazy that I no longer do that at all. I rarely even wear makeup nowadays. 

Why did you stop?

I just fell in love with cooking a little bit more.

I think one of the greatest pleasures of growing older is you see so many versions of your life come and go. Even as recently as last year, I was working at a restaurant I really loved and thought I’d be at for a long time. Then all of that scattered, and I was super heartbroken.

What did you do?

I opened my own restaurant.

I was already in the process of building when I had to leave the restaurant I worked at. The plan had always been to manage Fired and Iced alongside the other restaurant. Suddenly, Fired and Iced went from this thing I was building in my spare time, that I could take my time with, to something that needed to be up and running right away because I had nothing else going on at the time.

Obviously, that put a lot of pressure on me to make it work very quickly.

What was the hardest part?

The major hit I took was financial. I lived on location at the other restaurant, and my daughter had a room in my brother’s house, so I didn’t have to pay rent. Which was great because who wants to pay rent in Lagos? I also had a salary, which was great because, you know, a little money in my pocket.

I went from having a regular income to not having any money. And I’ve never been a savings babe, so I was waiting for this thing I was building to come up and make me money. 

I also had to find a place to live in three weeks, which, if you know Lagos, is almost impossible. But I found a lovely affordable four-bedroom by sheer luck, and moved in with my daughter right in time to be evicted from the restaurant.

After all that financial uncertainty, when did you finally start feeling secure again?

I’ve felt the most financially independent on my 40th birthday. 

I put together two birthday parties. I paid for everything on my own. Nobody from my family gave me money. I didn’t ask anybody for money. I wasn’t really carrying anyone but my sister along with me on the plans. I just told everybody else, “Be here at this time. Be here at that time.”

And it was big. 

Jesus, parties are expensive! You do not want to know how much I spent. I was going to do a reel where I broke down the cost, and then I said, “If I put this thing online, people will come and rob me.” In fact, as we’re on this call, I just paid off the balance to somebody who did some printing.

Must鈥檝e felt bittersweet

奥别濒濒鈥�

I bloomed a little later in life. I know people my age who’ve been paying their siblings’ school fees for years and all that kind of stuff. But even when I was on my own, my family still supported me for a long time. If we’re having a family dinner and I mention, “Oh, I have to pay rent,” my dad would send me some money, or my brothers would help. My sister and I basically share a bank account.

But when my daughter recently started college, people contributed what they could, but I paid the tuition and rent. I took care of almost everything. I was very happy that I could do that, that I had the finances to. More and more lately, I’ve felt in control of my life and finances in a way that, God forbid, if anything happened to everybody around me, I know I could still stand on my own.

You’ve made a living doing things you genuinely enjoy. Have people always taken that seriously?

Not always. People assumed that because I was a makeup artist, I was probably this uneducated, down-on-her-luck babe who couldn’t do anything else. I still get that as a chef.

But choices don’t exist in isolation, and you can’t constantly make them based on how you’ll be perceived. Let them drag me on X, but my feminism is about having the choice to do the things I want to do when I want to do them. It’s not about fulfilling a particular role. I’m not a girlboss or a mother or anything but whatever I want to be that day when I wake up.

What does that freedom to choose look like in real life?

I’ve always loved working with my hands, so I always knew that the things I’d do in life would involve that. During the COVID-19 lockdown. I could no longer buy fancy imported candles, and I wanted fancy imported candles. So I started making candles for myself at home and eventually gifting some to friends who were like, “Oh, we would pay good money for this.”

Then I started selling them.

Just like that?

Yes. And that has turned into , my home fragrance brand. It’s the one thing that’s a bit surprising to me.

Another example: I regularly host my circle for house dinners. I don鈥檛 do this because I’m a woman. I host because I love having a house full of people. I love cooking for them, even though I know I’ll be stressed and cranky for the first 20 minutes until I get all my drinks in me and become normal again. 

When I get tired of hosting, I simply stop.

And your people respect that 

Sometimes, I’ll have friends over and, at some point, just announce, “I’m in my room. Bye.” I’m not kicking anybody out of my house, but I want to be in bed, so I’m going to bed. 

One day, I messaged my friend group and said, “I want a meat night. I just want us to be eating meat.” So I made sausages, lamb chops and duck breasts, everybody brought something, and we had this table full of meat. While I was cooking, one of my friends stood at the kitchen door because she knows I hate having people in my space when I cook but she likes watching me cook. I said, “As long as you’re not in my space, that’s cool.”

Boundaries

That’s why building community is important. When you’re surrounded by people who aren’t forcing expectations on you, you don’t have to worry about being perceived as just a homemaker. Your people learn you. 

And if it’s people outside your community judging you, why do you care? I don’t care what an X user has to say about my life.

Has living life on your own terms always been important to you?

When I die, the one thing I want people to say is that I happened aggressively to life. Life did not happen to me. I happened to life.

It’s so important to me that I’m not just accepting the things life throws at me. I have to be fully, actively in charge of my life and making decisions. Otherwise, why do I have a brain? How am I alive? I think that’s one of the things I struggle with when it comes to religion; the idea that I’m not in charge of my life. But I kind of am. I must be. Who else could be in charge of my life if not me?

I remember one of my exes saying, “You just cannot go with the flow.” And I said, “No. Where are we flowing to? What direction is the river moving? I need to know.” I can ride and die with you, but I want to know why we have to ride and why we have to die. Let me understand.

Speaking of relationships, you almost got married at 20. At 40, is marriage something you still want for yourself?

No. 

First, I want to preface this by saying I’m a grown woman, so I do be having companions.

I’m constantly surrounded by people I love and who love me in return. I go on dates, meet people and have had long-term lovers. I have a very full life in every direction. If I don’t want to be alone tonight, I have somebody I can call. If I want to be alone, I can go to my room, close the door and not answer my phone.

Options

Having a full friend group helps even more. My sister is my best friend. My sister and I are one. We constantly have things we’re doing together.

I’m very close to my family. I spent an entire Sunday with them recently when I’d only planned to visit for two hours. Next thing, we’d eaten breakfast, eaten lunch and were ordering dinner. I was like, “Come on, guys. I was just here to visit!” But it was fantastic because I love spending time with them.

But what about love?

Listen, I love love. You can ask my sister. You will not find anybody willing to be stupider for love than me. I love romance and everything that comes with it, but I also know that I wouldn’t die without it. Would I love to never find somebody to spend the rest of my life with? No. But I’m okay with that possibility.

How do you reconcile wanting love with being unwilling to marry?

I’ve been in situations where I’ve had to ask myself, “Am I willing to do this for this person?” And the answer has always been, “No. I love you, but no.” I still care about you deeply, but that’s never going to be a choice for me. 

My financial independence makes it easier. I can look at somebody and say, “You’re not fulfilling my emotional needs, so I’m going to leave,” instead of having to think about him before I can buy menstrual pads or food. But there’s another side to it that I don’t think a lot of men appreciate. If you’re in my space, it’s because I want you in my space. 

That鈥檚 true

A lover recently told me I act like I don’t even care if he鈥檚 around or not. I said, “You’re currently in my house. How many people have my address?” 

I don’t invite just anybody into my home. The people I allow into my space are people I love deeply. I don’t need you to pay my bills or spoil me. I’m not particularly interested in designer things, so you’re not buying me Prada, Gucci or Louis Vuitton. And because I’m not looking for marriage, there’s no pressure of, “Oh, I’m 40 years old, I must marry now.鈥� 

I think more men should be flattered by that.

Your life is already full of family, work and community. What could a romantic partner add to it?

Those can never replace romantic love. There’s an intimacy you get from it that you don’t get from friendships. The casual physicality of being with somebody, the little brushes when you pass each other in the kitchen, lying down together and cuddling. I love cuddling. 

I’m not somebody who generally likes people touching me, so I don’t want to replicate that with my friends. It’s a very specific kind of intimacy that comes with being romantically in love with someone.

And orgasms, please. 

Orgasms are very important! 

And I’m not particularly a self-pleasure person. I like sex with people. 

I also like the conversations you have with a romantic partner, the whispering of sweet nothings, lying in bed and just looking at each other with love. I love that stuff.

If marriage isn’t your goal, do you still enter relationships hoping they’ll last forever?

Yes, and I’m very honest about marriage. I have that conversation early. 

I’ve had a relationship I genuinely wanted to last forever, but he couldn’t accept that marriage wasn’t something I wanted. It wasn’t a relationship he felt he could take home to his parents, so that ended. Generally, when I’m dating somebody, I ask myself, “If this is the person I’m with forever, would I be happy?” If the answer is yes, fantastic. Let’s go.

When was the last time you had an ordinary moment when you were proud of the life you鈥檝e built?

This is a great question because I actually have a moment.

One Sunday, I had something work-related to attend, and afterwards, I was rushing to a birthday party. I got dressed in a hurry, didn’t even do my makeup, and was taking out my hair in the car because I thought I was late. The party was supposed to start at 7:30 p.m. I got there around 8:10, and nobody was there. Nobody! I was like, “Oh God, Lagos has fooled me again. I’m early.”

African time!

I turned around, went back home, took off my clothes and sat on my bed for a little bit. Then I realised, “Wait, I’m early. I don’t have to rush.” 

I lay down and started looking around my room. You know when you spend so much time in a space that you never really look at it? I looked at my wallpaper, my bedside lamp, my curtains, my flowers, even the mess on my floor. And I was like, “Oh my God, this is such a nice room.”

I picked everything myself. I picked my bed and had it made. I chose the mirror, the wallpaper, everything. My room is loud. But it’s a space I’ve created for myself, and it looks like me. You walk in and you’re like, “Yep, this is exactly the kind of room I’d expect you to have.” It looks like me, it feels like me, and it’s as cold as I want it to be.

And I just lay there thinking, “Look at you, Imoteda. You’ve built a life that’s perfect. Your room is perfect.” 

Sometimes, I look at myself and think I behave like I’m rich when I’m not, especially with the amount of electricity credit I keep buying. But at that moment, I was just so happy. I realised that in a few minutes, I was going to get up, put my clothes back on, do my makeup and go party all night with my friends on a Sunday, a school night, simply because I could. 

Who was going to tell me to go to bed?

It鈥檚 the small things

The party wasn’t even the point. I was just lying in my room, looking at this space I’d made for myself, and thinking, “This is my life, and my life is good. This is a great life.”

I’m actually happy thinking about it again because I was so happy at that moment. It made me realise that I’d built this life brick by brick. Of course, I have my loving family, but this wasn’t about them. This was about me. 

Why is having a space that’s entirely yours so important?

It’s interesting because my mum actually had a room of her own when we were younger. My parents shared a bedroom, but she also had another room that was supposed to be just for her. Somewhere she could keep her knick-knacks, sew or do whatever she wanted.

Somehow, that room ended up becoming a store. There was a bed in it and everything, but it still became a space for the family. Even the room that was supposed to be hers ended up not being for her. 

I think having a room of your own as a woman is actually super important. 

And what would you say to someone who thinks choosing yourself is selfish?

I only ever have one answer: I’m in my house. Come and beat me.

You think I’m selfish? Come and beat me in my house. You think I’m making the wrong choices? I’m in my house, and you can’t beat me. Even if it is selfish, I’ve made my choice.

I’m in my house. Come and beat me.

The screening brought together filmmakers, media people, creators and entertainment insiders for the first public look at a show that is trying to build an entirely different lane and push African reality TV beyond familiar territory, closer to the cinematic spectacle audiences have come to expect from global streaming hits. 

We saw the usual premiere-night uniform of glamorous urban takes on local outfits, people pretending they weren鈥檛 trying to be photographed, filmmakers hugging each other across the room, and enough 鈥淵ou look so good!鈥� conversations to remind you this was still Lagos.

Before the lights dimmed, the vast screening room was filled to capacity and had settled into that particular Lagos premiere energy, equal parts networking event, reunion and group chat finally happening in real life.

GRIT鈥檚 ambition is important because, for years, African reality television has largely lived in one lane. We know the formula. One house, one host, lots of confessionals, social media discourse, voting and a winner at the end. It works. But it also leaves room for something else.

GRIT is betting that 鈥渟omething else鈥� looks like adventure. 

So鈥� what exactly is GRIT?

At its simplest, GRIT is a reality competition series. But 鈥渃ompetition鈥� doesn鈥檛 quite capture all it鈥檚 trying to do.

The show follows contestants through increasingly demanding physical and psychological challenges designed to test resilience, creativity and decision-making as much as athletic ability. Contestants are also forced to navigate shifting relationships, unexpected twists and difficult social choices.  

The premiere episode wastes little time establishing those stakes.

Ten contestants arrive at the GRIT Residence believing they understand the game ahead before an unexpected eleventh entrant changes the group鈥檚 chemistry. By the end of the episode, someone is already headed home, a reminder that this isn鈥檛 a slow burn.

Imagine if a survival competition, a strategy game and a reality show had a baby, then dropped it somewhere in Kenya.

Hosted by actor Ini Dima-Okojie and filmed in Kenya, the series swaps living-room arguments for sprawling Safari landscapes, combining physical and mental challenges with strategy, alliances and the kind of interpersonal dynamics that inevitably emerge whenever ambitious strangers are asked to compete under pressure.

GRIT throws contestants into physical and mental challenges where winning is about making decisions, reading people, surviving pressure and figuring out who you can trust before they decide you can鈥檛 be trusted.

The room knew something different was happening

If premieres are about setting expectations, this one seemed designed to communicate scale.

The guest list included Snapchat鈥檚 Janine Anthony, former TikTok Content Operations & Partnerships Lead for Sub-Saharan Africa Ekikere Udofia, actor Elozonam and Big Brother Africa director Gbenga Kayode, who also directs GRIT.

Their presence reflected something larger than a single show鈥檚 launch. Increasingly, African creators are building formats that can comfortably exist in the same conversations as the world鈥檚 biggest unscripted franchises.

That鈥檚 the lane Faaji Productions appears determined to occupy.

鈥淕RIT is resilience鈥�

For founder , the show鈥檚 title transcends branding.

鈥淕RIT is resilience. It鈥檚 about pushing forward and achieving something despite the odds. That鈥檚 the spirit we鈥檝e poured into this show. We鈥檝e created something truly incredible, and I can鈥檛 wait for people to experience it.鈥澛�

It鈥檚 a statement that feels especially timely.

Across African pop culture, audiences increasingly reward stories built around endurance, transformation and ordinary people attempting extraordinary things. Whether through documentaries, reality competitions or creator-led storytelling, viewers have shown they鈥檙e interested in people becoming different versions of themselves.

GRIT appears to lean directly into that instinct.

Nobody wants another copy-and-paste reality show

For years, African reality television has mostly meant a house, cameras in every corner and Twitter doing overtime. GRIT is betting audiences are ready for something else.

People are hungry for bigger worlds, better production and stories that don鈥檛 feel geographically limited. Filmed in Kenya with contestants from across the continent, the series feels less interested in recreating familiar formats than in asking what a distinctly Pan-African competition show could look like.

The internet gets its turn on July 3

Private premieres are, by design, exclusive. The real audience is everyone who wasn鈥檛 in the room.

Beginning on Friday, July 3, 2026, GRIT premieres publicly on , where new episodes will be released regularly for viewers everywhere.聽聽

That鈥檚 when the conversation shifts from industry insiders to the internet, where every alliance, betrayal, elimination and plot twist will ultimately determine whether GRIT becomes another reality show or the beginning of a new chapter for African unscripted television.

Because in the end, every reality show makes the promise that you can 鈥渨atch these strangers become unforgettable.鈥� The interesting test is whether GRIT can make good television that makes the rest of us care enough to keep coming back next week.

As told to Lolade

The first time my father suggested I take a loan to help pay our rent, I was 23. I might have laughed if I hadn鈥檛 been so sure he wasn鈥檛 joking.

We were sitting in the living room on a Sunday afternoon. He had one of his loose note sheets in front of him on the centre table, where he often scribbled random thoughts. 

Whenever rent is approaching, he starts writing numbers on those sheets; what’s left to pay, who might be able to help, what can wait. He looked up from the small square paper and said it as casually as someone suggesting we buy more toothpaste.

“You know banks can give salary earners loans.” I looked at him as he continued. “If you collect the 鈧�3.5 million, we’ll sort out the rent first. As time goes on, we’ll be paying it back.”

For a few seconds, I genuinely thought I’d misunderstood him. I remember asking, “Me?”

He nodded. “Yes. You have a salary.”

I earned 鈧�120,000 a month at the time and had only been working full-time for about a year. I started doing the math in my head and asked him the only question that made sense to me.

“If I use my salary to repay a 鈧�3.5 million loan every month, who’s going to buy everything else in the house?”

He didn’t really answer. Instead, he said something like, “God will make a way. Besides, you’re a responsible son. This is why children are blessings.”

Even though he hasn鈥檛 succeeded in getting me to take a loan, every few months, whenever rent comes up again, he brings it back into the conversation.

“You’ve not checked the loan?鈥� 鈥淵our office doesn鈥檛 give advances?” “You know your bank will approve a loan because you’re working.”

Each time, I felt the same mixture of confusion and guilt. What loan? How would I repay it? What exactly was the plan here?

I am 25 now, and I earn about 鈧�150,000 a month from my 9-to-5 in the creative industry. Sometimes, I make a lot more money from freelance projects as an animator, but that’s not guaranteed income.

I’m fortunate enough to work at a company people recognise, the type that makes my relatives think I’ve made it. But creative careers are weird because everyone applauds your potential while underpaying your present. I’m actually making progress, that’s the annoying thing. My work gets noticed, people in the industry know my name, projects happen, but every milestone feels delayed by the fact that so much energy goes into simply functioning.

My father wasn’t thinking about a loan for me to move out, start a business or pay for a master’s degree. He was talking about paying the rent for the three-bedroom apartment we currently live in with my two siblings, an apartment that isn’t mine.

The thing that made the gentle suggestions even stranger was that it had already become normal for my father to call me for money. Fuel, internet, groceries, generator repairs, the security man’s salary, transport money, his blood pressure medication, random emergencies, the requests come so often that I鈥檝e stopped thinking about them individually.

How did we get here? The answer starts with bread. 

I was 22 and fresh out of NYSC when I got my first proper job. One day, my father called me while I was coming home from work and asked me to鈥� “Buy two loaves of bread when you’re coming.” That was all. Then it became bread and eggs, then I cannot buy that without Geisha or Titus, then detergent and bleach, nothing that ever felt big enough to refuse. 

But the requests just kept expanding until at some point, I became responsible for all the not-so-small house expenses without anyone formally acknowledging that this was happening. I think that’s why the loan conversation shook me. For the first time, I couldn’t pretend these were small favours anymore.

This is particularly painful because my father hasn’t had stable work in years, but my grandfather was successful. So my father inherited opportunities, connections and resources most people never get access to. He lived on my grandfather鈥檚 wealth, lived in his house, never paid rent until he was well into his own 30s when my grandfather died. 

And somehow, all of it disappeared.

Growing up, I heard endless stories about the influential people my father knew personally, from business and religious leaders to politicians whose names we always hear in the news, the prominent ones. As I got older, I realised the stories were true, and that almost made things worse!

Today, he has no meaningful retirement plan, savings or investments. 

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The financial struggle became worse at home after my mother left. When she moved out in December 2025, my siblings and I weren’t even surprised. If anything, we were surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. The woman had endured enough emotional and financial abuse that I don鈥檛 even want to get into.

My mother spent years absorbing the consequences of my father’s terrible financial decisions, and once she left, those consequences became impossible for us to ignore. 

My sister responded to the gap differently than I did. She’s the firstborn and only daughter, and at some point many years ago, she developed strict boundaries. She contributes financially, but on her own terms. She decides what she’ll pay for鈥攑art of the rent and big bills like domestic staff salaries鈥攁nd what she won’t. My father doesn’t like it, but he can’t seem to do much about it.

I haven’t figured out how to set my own boundaries. Partly because I’m the first son and I feel a larger sense of responsibility, but also, I’ve spent most of my life wanting my father’s attention and approval as a middle child. 

The loan conversations became more frequent shortly after my mother left. I can’t afford to move out. Now, I’m supposed to go into debt for a house I don’t own? It reminded me that the point of staying on with my parents after school was originally to save money. Instead, I鈥檓 slowly becoming financially responsible for a house that isn’t mine, and it鈥檚 affecting every part of my life.

In 2024, I was talking to a woman I really liked. I met her at a creative event, and we spoke almost every day. Eventually, she suggested we meet up properly. I remember opening my banking app before replying. I could technically afford one date, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about everything else.

What happens if we actually like each other and this becomes a relationship? I was already struggling to imagine paying rent, building savings or moving out. A relationship felt like another responsibility I couldn’t afford. Eventually, I stopped pursuing things, and the conversation died naturally.

That wasn’t the first time.

Around the same period, something else changed. My relationship with God started falling apart. My father has a habit of mixing financial requests with spiritual language. He rarely says, “Give me money because I need your help.” Instead, he’ll say things like, “God rewards responsible sons,” or “I had a dream about your future.鈥�

Sometimes, he’d even remind me that fathers can curse their children.

For years, those statements worked. Even when they made me uncomfortable, there was always a part of me wondering if refusing him made me a bad son. Eventually, I realised I wasn’t getting anything from church anymore. I tried different churches, but nothing changed. Then one day, I simply stopped going.

I expected guilt, fear or something. Instead, nothing happened. The more distance I got, the more I started questioning how much of my obedience came from faith and how much came from fear. I’m still figuring that out, but what I do know is that the rent issue changed something in me.

The most recent time the loan came up was in January 2026. I had just come back from work and was eating in the dining room when he mentioned that rent would soon be due again. Before I even looked up from my plate, I knew where the conversation was going.

鈥淗ave you spoken to your office?鈥� I said no. 鈥淲hy?鈥� I didn’t answer immediately. He sighed and started talking about how children these days don’t understand sacrifice, how he had dreams that I would become successful because I was a responsible son, and how God wouldn’t abandon me if I obeyed my father.

I remember sitting there thinking that I was even eating food I’d bought. I’d probably paid for the rice, the gas that cooked it and the internet bill that month. Yet somehow, I was the one being made to feel like I wasn’t doing enough.

I wanted to hate him but I couldn鈥檛. That’s the problem. I still love my father and want him to be proud of me. I still see flashes of the person he could have been. But every time he brings up that loan, I feel myself moving further away from him.

These days, my younger brother is the thing I worry about most. He’s still in secondary school, talented and bright. And university is approaching. Nobody has officially said anything, but my sister and I both understand what might happen next.

The same way bread turned into groceries, and groceries turned into bills, and bills turned into rent, responsibilities have a way of arriving gradually. 

I’m 25. These days, I find myself crying over strange things like a scene in a movie or a song playing in the hot traffic when I think of when I could ever be able to own a car, but the tears sit somewhere behind my eyes, waiting. 

Most mornings, I wake up tired before the day has even started because I鈥檓 already calculating ten years ahead, wondering whether I’ll ever get a chance to build my own life before somebody hands me responsibility for theirs.

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What鈥檚 your earliest memory of each other?

Obinna: We met at a church event in July 2022. 

I wasn鈥檛 supposed to be there. During a visit to my mum, she practically dragged me to help her out in her small family church. So I was setting up chairs when Emem came in with her family. She was with her sister, and they were joking about something. She had this vibe鈥攃onfident, but still a bit shy. 

Later, I found out she lived near my mum鈥檚 shop. We started chatting whenever I passed by the shop every other week or so, and eventually, it turned into longer conversations.

Emem: I was waiting outside his mum鈥檚 shop on the day we really talked for the first time. I was bored, scrolling through my phone, and he just showed up. He was talking to our mums about some local council thing鈥擨 barely paid attention. But after a while, he started showing up more, and we鈥檇 talk casually. 

About what?

Emem: At first, I thought he was just being polite, you know, those older guys that are nice but never look your way. But he started asking about me鈥攍ike what I wanted to do after school, what I was passionate about. He wasn鈥檛 pushy either, just…interested.

Obinna: I remember Lagos was in that usual rainy season mess. I鈥檇 stop by whenever I was in the area, and we鈥檇 talk about the weather and how it鈥檒l affect so many things鈥攖raffic, electricity, laundry. 

By the end of the year, we were seeing each other more often.

How did you feel about this, Emem?

Emem: I was still 18, entering into my second year at uni. I wasn鈥檛 even thinking of him in that way when we started talking. But he wasn鈥檛 playing games. By the time I turned 19, it just felt right to be together, even though I knew some people wouldn鈥檛 get it.

Tell me how you got together

Obinna: We got into a routine. I started picking her up from school whenever I could. We鈥檇 go for lunch or just drive around town. Lagos traffic was a blessing in disguise鈥攖he long car rides gave us time to bond without interruptions. And I started inviting her over to my place just to hang out, watch movies or talk. Nothing serious at first, just enjoying each other鈥檚 company.

Emem: He鈥檇 sometimes drive me and my sister home from school. Eventually, he started picking me up more often, especially on weekends. I wasn鈥檛 really going out much before that, but with him, I felt like I could experience more. 

We didn鈥檛 want people getting the wrong idea, especially early on, so we kept it low-key. But as we got more comfortable, it became more open.

What wrong idea did you think people would get?

Obinna: The obvious one鈥攑eople would assume I was taking advantage of her because of our age difference. Once people see a younger girl with an older guy, the first thing they think is, 鈥淗e鈥檚 grooming her鈥� or 鈥淪he鈥檚 too young to know what she鈥檚 doing.鈥� They don鈥檛 take the time to understand that it鈥檚 not like that with us. 

Emem: My friends, especially. They鈥檙e quick to judge things like that, calling it sugar daddy vibes or whatever. But I know what I want. From the beginning, I knew I liked being with him. It鈥檚 always easy to label something 鈥渨rong鈥� just because of that holier than thou attitude.

Did you have your parents鈥� approval to go out with him so often?

Emem: Not exactly. I knew they鈥檇 have their concerns about me dating an older guy, especially since I was still in school. So I just told them I was hanging out with a 鈥渇riend,鈥� which was true to some extent.

Obinna: I wasn鈥檛 happy she had to sneak around for us to spend quality time together. But then, I know she鈥檚 still young. I get why she felt she had to protect what we had, just like me. It鈥檚 not like she was lying about her feelings; she genuinely likes spending time with me. 

If anything, it made me want to be more supportive and prove that we could make this work, regardless of how others viewed it.

How did you know for sure that you liked each other?

Obinna: I鈥檝e been with women my age, but it always felt like we were competing鈥攍ike we were both bringing too much baggage. There was something about Emem that clicked on a deeper level; it felt easier. It wasn鈥檛 instant, but I liked that she wasn鈥檛 jaded yet, if I鈥檓 being honest. She was still figuring things out. She wasn鈥檛 trying to prove anything. 

I knew I liked her when I found myself genuinely looking forward to our conversations, not just the physical stuff. There was a simplicity to being with her that I hadn鈥檛 felt in a while.

Emem: I knew because I felt safe with him. I鈥檝e never felt even a dot of bad vibes or like I鈥檓 putting myself in danger. Most guys my age just want to play games, and I was tired of that. He didn鈥檛 make me feel like I had to impress him or act older than I was. I don鈥檛 feel like just some young girl he鈥檚 using for fun. 

We talk about my plans, my frustrations with school, and he鈥檇 give me advice that makes sense. I liked that he wasn鈥檛 rushing anything and let me set the pace. That鈥檚 how I knew it was real鈥攈e respected me.

So you didn鈥檛 tell anyone at all about the relationship?

Obinna: Not at first. Even my own friends鈥攇uys who have no business judging鈥攚ould鈥檝e had something to say about it. And I was right. 

I didn鈥檛 want to deal with unnecessary comments before we even knew where the relationship was heading. Eventually, though, I told one of my cousins, and she was surprisingly cool with it. That gave me the confidence to slowly open up to others.

Emem: I didn鈥檛 tell my friends at first. I just said I was talking to someone, but I didn鈥檛 give too many details. It was only a few weeks after we became official that I told my best friend. And she asked me, 鈥淲hat could you two possibly have in common?鈥� But when I explained that I felt more comfortable with him than with any guy my age, she kind of backed off. 

My family found out later when they noticed I was spending a lot more time with him. I was 20, and I think that鈥檚 why my mum, surprisingly, didn鈥檛 react badly. She was more concerned about whether I was happy than about the age gap.

Did she know you鈥檇 been talking since you were 18?

Emem: No. She still doesn鈥檛.

Okay. So how did the relationship progress after this?

Obinna: Earlier this year, we stopped hiding. But the real turning point came when she got pregnant in May. That changed everything. Suddenly, what was just between us became everyone else鈥檚 business. It solidified things for me鈥擨 knew I wanted her in my life long-term.

Emem: We got more serious when I occasionally started staying over at his place, helping him with stuff and spending weekends together. By the time I found out I was pregnant, I already felt secure in our relationship, but I was still scared. When I told him, he was calm about it, even more than I expected. 

We talked about the future, and he made it clear he wanted to take care of me and the baby. That鈥檚 when I knew he wasn鈥檛 playing. He wants to marry me now, and honestly, I鈥檓 ready for it. People will always talk, but I鈥檓 happy with him.

What鈥檚 been the reaction to the pregnancy and marriage talks?

Obinna: My parents are still warming up to the idea, and a few relatives have made comments about me 鈥渞ushing things鈥�. Some even suggested that I was being irresponsible, like I purposely got her pregnant to trap her. But the truth is, I鈥檓 not marrying her just because she鈥檚 pregnant鈥擨 actually love her. Is that so bad? I wish we didn鈥檛 always have to prove our relationship is pure.

Emem: My friends freaked out when they found out. I鈥檓 four months in now and some of them have stopped talking to me altogether. My mum actually discovered it before me. She was shocked at first, but she鈥檚 supportive now. She鈥檚 been telling me to focus on building my life with Obinna and ignore the noise. 

The most hurtful reactions have been from strangers. People look at me like I鈥檓 some naive girl who doesn鈥檛 know what she鈥檚 doing, but they don鈥檛 understand us.

And how are you balancing everything with school?

Emem: It鈥檚 no joke. I鈥檓 in my third year, so classes have been intense, but Obinna is really supportive. He helps me study and reminds me to take breaks. When I feel overwhelmed, he encourages me to focus on my health first, which I appreciate. 

I鈥檓 excited about being a mum. That keeps me motivated.

Obinna: She鈥檚 currently on break, but when school was in session, you wouldn鈥檛 even know she was pregnant. We鈥檇 use everything from apps to planners to keep track of her assignments and doctor鈥檚 appointments. But we鈥檝e agreed to defer her final year for our peace of mind.

Emem: My elder sister has been really supportive as well. It鈥檚 just the two of us, and I鈥檓 so happy that we鈥檙e still so close.

Neat. So what was your first major fight about?

Obinna: We don鈥檛 really fight. The only one I can think of is two months ago when I鈥檇 put money together to take her away to celebrate our anniversary. But Emem wanted us to spend it all on the baby鈥攃lothes, a crib, stuff like that. I felt like she was getting ahead of herself since she was just over two months gone. We had an argument about it for days.

Emem: I thought we should be preparing for the future, not just focusing on having fun. It was the first time I really questioned if we were on the same page, and I cried and cried. But we talked it out. We ended up going shopping for the cot but still having a nice dinner on our anniversary.

It didn鈥檛 feel like a fight, though.

Got it

Obinna: That鈥檚 how I know I want to marry her. 

In our culture, there鈥檚 a lot of stigma attached to having a child out of wedlock, and I don鈥檛 want that for Emem or our baby. It鈥檚 important to me that we do things the right way, even though everyone鈥檚 interpretation of that is different. I believe in being a family, and I want to give our child a sense of stability.

Emem: My mum has been dropping hints about how important it is to her, so that鈥檚 in the back of our minds.

So what鈥檚 the plan?

Obinna: The plan is to propose soon, ideally before the baby arrives. I want to do it in a way that feels special, not rushed at all. I鈥檝e been looking at rings. I want it to reflect her personality, something unique. Once I propose, we鈥檒l start planning the wedding. 

Emem: I鈥檓 excited about it. I鈥檓 secretly hoping it鈥檒l be a cute proposal I can brag about to my friends! For the wedding, I don鈥檛 need anything extravagant, not in this economy. I just want us to have enough to create a home filled with love and support, and marrying him is a big part of that.

Does it still feel like you’re setting the pace, Emem?

Emem: Honestly, yes, it does. I鈥檓 excited about becoming a mum and marrying Obinna, and I sometimes feel like I鈥檓 the one driving the relationship forward. I鈥檓 the one who鈥檚 pregnant, and that changes a lot! I鈥檓 thinking about our future, how we鈥檒l manage the baby, and making sure we鈥檙e both on the same page. 

Obinna: I worry she feels overwhelmed with everything, and that鈥檚 the last thing I want.

In what way?

Obinna: I just wish she鈥檇 relax a little, knowing I鈥檒l support her. It鈥檚 a learning curve for both of us, but I believe we鈥檒l find our way as we go.

Emem: I see Obinna stepping up all the time, and it gives me hope that we鈥檙e in this together, but I still catch myself thinking about things I want to make sure happen, like expanding my crochet business and creating a loving home for our child.

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

Obinna: 8. There are challenges, like dealing with the stresses of an unplanned pregnancy. But overall, I believe in what we have.

Emem: I agree with 8. I know it might sound crazy given our age difference and the baby on the way, but I genuinely feel loved and supported by Obinna. I think once we鈥檙e married and start our life as a family, that score might just go up.

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What鈥檚 your earliest memory of each other?

Jamal: I first saw her at a party鈥攐ne of those loud, flashy ones in Lekki in 2022. I wasn鈥檛 really into all that stuff, but my boys dragged me there. She was wearing this neon green outfit that just stood out in the crowd. I remember thinking she was way too cool for me. I didn鈥檛 talk to her that night, but I stalked her Instagram for days after.  

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

I’m guessing he proved you right?

Tomi: In some ways, yeah. 

He wasn鈥檛 the typical guy I was used to. He wasn鈥檛 all about popping bottles or showing off. I mean, he did some of that at first, but deep down, he had this soft side, always asking questions about life and meaning. But it wasn鈥檛 all perfect; there were moments he鈥檇 still act like the Lagos boy鈥攇host me for a few days and then come back like nothing happened.  

Jamal: Okay, to be fair, I was figuring myself out back then. I didn鈥檛 want to mess it up, but I also didn鈥檛 know how to be fully honest with her at the start. Lagos dating is a game, you know? You鈥檙e either playing or getting played. 

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

How did you transition to 鈥渞eal鈥�?

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

Tomi: Yeah, it was around December 2022 when we really clicked. I remember it was the 鈥淒etty December鈥� period鈥攑eople were going crazy with parties, but we were chilling, just talking about life, God, and everything in between. It was the first time I actually felt like a relationship could be more than just 鈥渧ibes鈥� and drama.

Were you both religious before that?

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

At that time, I wasn鈥檛 even thinking about God like that. I was more into finding myself, trying to live my best life, you know? Like most of our generation, I was questioning everything鈥攊ncluding religion.

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

When we got closer, we started having these deep conversations about faith and what it all means. It wasn鈥檛 planned; it just kind of happened.

Is that how the relationship started?

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

I didn鈥檛 expect it, but those talks made me see Jamal in a different light. It wasn鈥檛 just about the attraction anymore; it was like we were building something more meaningful together.

Jamal: Yeah, those convos are what made me realise she wasn鈥檛 just another girl. We were both going through a phase of questioning everything and instead of drifting apart like a lot of people do when it gets that real, we got closer. 

Tell me how that happened

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

Tomi: It wasn鈥檛 like we were 鈥渞eligious鈥� overnight or anything, but those conversations led us to start exploring faith together. And honestly, it was part of what sealed the relationship. I didn鈥檛 just want a relationship that was all vibes or built on physical stuff. I wanted someone who was on the same wavelength as me, someone I could grow with spiritually.

So when did you become official?

Jamal: Man, becoming official was messy at first. We鈥檇 been hanging out for months, and I knew she wanted to make it official, but I wasn鈥檛 sure if I was ready. I was still one foot in, one foot out. But after one argument where she basically told me she couldn鈥檛 keep doing this 鈥渟ituationship鈥�, I knew I had to step up or risk losing her. So, I asked her out properly. We had a real conversation where I told her I wanted to be with her, no games.

Tomi: Yeah, we had been in this grey zone for months, and it was frustrating. One day after we鈥檇 had a great weekend together, I straight-up asked him where this was going. I was tired of playing cool and acting like I didn鈥檛 care about a title. I remember being ready to walk away if he didn鈥檛 want something serious, but he surprised me. He finally said he wanted to be with me officially.

When did you realise you loved each other?

Jamal: When she called me out on my nonsense and didn鈥檛 let me off the hook. 

I had a habit of disappearing when things got too serious鈥擨鈥檇 just ghost for a bit. One time, I went MIA for like a week, and when I finally reached out, she didn鈥檛 just take me back. She told me straight up, 鈥淚f you鈥檙e serious about this, you need to act like it.鈥� No one had ever held me accountable like that before. It wasn鈥檛 just love, it was respect.

Tomi: For me, it wasn鈥檛 one big moment; it was little things adding up. 

Like, he鈥檇 stay up late talking to me about stuff that wasn鈥檛 even his vibe, just to understand me better. Or when he started randomly praying for me. One day, I was having the worst day, and instead of just being like, 鈥淪orry babe, it鈥檒l get better,鈥� he actually prayed with me. I don鈥檛 know if that sounds cheesy, but that was real for me. I鈥檇 never had someone care for my soul like that. That鈥檚 when I knew it wasn鈥檛 just infatuation鈥攊t was something deeper.

Was this before or after things became official?

Tomi: It was after we became official. By then, I think we both knew we were onto something deeper, but I didn鈥檛 fully realise I loved him until we鈥檇 already put labels on it. 

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

Jamal: The moment she called me out for ghosting and held me accountable was a couple of months in. We had the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing going, but that鈥檚 when I knew it wasn鈥檛 just a title or a phase. Before that, we were just figuring each other out and trying to see if we could trust the situation.

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

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

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

Jamal: I wasn鈥檛 really on that level at first. I went to church a few times just to make her happy, but eventually, I started feeling like maybe this was what I needed too. 

Lagos life has a way of making you feel like you鈥檙e chasing stuff that doesn鈥檛 matter鈥攎oney, parties, whatever. It鈥檚 all a distraction. But when we started talking about God, praying together, and going to church, I realised I was tired of pretending like I had it all figured out. It was less about religion and more about finding something real, something that could give our relationship meaning beyond just us.

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

Tomi: It was more about finding a purpose together. And I think doing it together made it even more special. We held each other accountable and grew spiritually in ways I didn鈥檛 even think were possible before.

Jamal: I wouldn鈥檛 say we needed to find God to be together, but it felt like the missing piece. Before, our relationship was good, but it was like we were coasting: Having fun, going out, doing what couples do. But after a while, it felt shallow. We started questioning if there was more to it. 

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

And what did you discover?

Tomi: We could鈥檝e kept going without bringing faith into it, but honestly, I don鈥檛 think we would鈥檝e lasted. The relationship was good, but along the way, I realised I wanted to grow with someone spiritually, too. 

Jamal: I think God helped us realise we didn鈥檛 just want to be another couple with good vibes but no depth. It made us more intentional, more grounded. So, in a way, finding God together felt necessary for us to really thrive as a couple.

Did it change anything about you as individuals?

Tomi: Yes. I didn鈥檛 know how much until everyone noticed and mentioned it to me. 

I was always the “let鈥檚 go out, let鈥檚 have fun” type, so when I started skipping events or saying, 鈥淚鈥檓 going to church,鈥� my friends were like, 鈥淭omi, are you okay?鈥� They didn鈥檛 understand it at first. I lost a few friends who thought I was trying to be holier-than-thou, but the real ones stayed. My mum was happy, though. She鈥檇 been praying for me to get serious about God for years, so she saw this as an answer to her prayers. And she loves Jamal for it.

Jamal: My friends clowned me at first. I鈥檇 say I couldn鈥檛 come out because I had Bible study, and they鈥檇 be like, 鈥淥mo, Jamal has joined the 鈥榗hurch boys鈥� now.鈥� It was jokes for them, but after a while, they noticed I was serious about it. Some respected it, some didn鈥檛. 

As for my family, it鈥檚 mixed. My dad was confused because we鈥檙e a Muslim family, so he didn鈥檛 get why I was going to church. My mum was more chill about it鈥攕he just wanted me to be at peace. It took time for them to understand it wasn鈥檛 just a phase.

So, what鈥檚 a 鈥済odly鈥� relationship really like in your experience?

Tomi: A 鈥済odly鈥� relationship isn鈥檛 perfect, first of all. People think because you鈥檙e trying to do things God鈥檚 way, everything鈥檚 smooth, but nah. We still argue, and we still get annoyed with each other. The difference is, we don鈥檛 walk away from tough conversations. We鈥檝e learnt to check our pride at the door and pray through the challenges.聽

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

Jamal: Yeah, in my past relationships, if it鈥檚 working, it鈥檚 working, and when it stops working, you move on. There wasn鈥檛 any real purpose beyond enjoying the moment. 

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

That鈥檚 a good plus

Tomi: And being 鈥済odly鈥� also means setting boundaries that most people in our generation might not get. 

We don鈥檛 have sex, and that鈥檚 something that shocks a lot of people. They think we鈥檙e being unrealistic or 鈥渢oo deep,鈥� but it鈥檚 a choice we made because we believe it keeps our relationship focused on the right things. In a time when everything is so physical, being intentional about emotional and spiritual connection first makes us different.

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

Neat. How do you keep the faith strong?

Tomi: By making it a priority in our relationship, not just something we do on Sundays. We pray together almost every day鈥攕ometimes it鈥檚 a long prayer, sometimes it鈥檚 just a quick, 鈥淕od, help us today.鈥� But we make sure we stay connected spiritually. We also talk about our faith a lot鈥攚hat we鈥檙e struggling with, what we鈥檙e learning, how we鈥檙e growing. It keeps us accountable.

Jamal: Yeah, the prayer thing has been huge for us. It wasn鈥檛 natural for me at first, but now, I can鈥檛 imagine our relationship without it. And we attend a church where we actually connect with the messages and people. We do Bible studies together, too, and we have debates about different topics. 

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

Like what?

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

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

How do you handle temptation, if any?

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

But I don鈥檛 put myself in situations that will make me act out. If I know going out late to certain places with certain people will mess with my head, I avoid it.

Tomi: I鈥檝e had to cut off some friends or situations that weren鈥檛 healthy for my faith or our relationship. It鈥檚 not easy because people don鈥檛 always get it鈥攖hey think you鈥檙e trying to be better than them or that you鈥檝e 鈥渃hanged too much鈥�. But it鈥檚 about knowing what I鈥檓 working towards. I keep my circle tight and surround myself with people who support our choices, not question them.

That鈥檚 important 

Jamal: And let鈥檚 be real, the sexual temptation is the hardest part. We decided to wait, but that doesn鈥檛 mean it鈥檚 easy. We鈥檙e human. 

So we鈥檝e put boundaries in place鈥攍ike, we don鈥檛 spend the night at each other鈥檚 places, and we try to limit being in situations where it鈥檚 just us in a closed space, especially late at night. That helps keep us accountable. It鈥檚 not foolproof, but it works most of the time.

Tomi: Also, when we do feel tempted, we talk about it. We don鈥檛 pretend we鈥檙e not struggling or act like we鈥檝e got it all figured out.

Jamal: At the end of the day, it鈥檚 about discipline. You can鈥檛 rely on willpower alone. That鈥檚 where the faith comes in鈥攊t gives us strength to stay on track, even when it鈥檚 tough.

Got it. What was your first major fight about?

Tomi: It鈥檚 linked to what Jamal mentioned earlier. It was when we were still figuring out where we stood. In the first few months of our official relationship, I felt like Jamal wasn鈥檛 serious鈥攈e鈥檇 go days without reaching out, and I鈥檇 see him on Instagram living life like I didn鈥檛 exist. 

I remember calling him out on it, and he got defensive, saying he wasn鈥檛 used to people 鈥渄emanding鈥� so much attention from him. It felt like I was asking for too much when all I wanted was basic communication.

Jamal: Yeah, I was definitely in the wrong. I wasn鈥檛 used to being accountable in relationships. I had a 鈥渄o what I want when I want鈥� mindset, and that clashed with what Tomi needed. She wanted stability and consistency, and I wasn鈥檛 giving that.

The fight got really heated because, for the first time, someone was calling me out for treating them like an option. It felt uncomfortable, but it was necessary. We didn鈥檛 talk for a few days after that, but it pushed me to be more serious about us.

How did you show you were serious, Jamal?

Jamal: I had to change the way I moved. First, I stopped ghosting. That was the big thing. I made sure I was more consistent with communication鈥攏o more going MIA for days and expecting her to be cool with it. 

I also started being more intentional about spending quality time with her, not just the casual 鈥淟et鈥檚 hang when I鈥檓 free鈥� kind of vibe. We鈥檇 plan proper dates, even if it was just chilling at her place and talking. I made an effort to be there, physically and emotionally.

Tomi: It was a turning point. It wasn鈥檛 enough to just say we were official; it was about showing up for each other in real ways. It wasn鈥檛 easy, but looking back, it was what we needed to really start building something solid.

Right

Jamal: And I made the relationship public. I know that sounds small, but I posted her on my socials, which was like me saying, 鈥淚鈥檓 serious about this girl.鈥� It wasn鈥檛 just for show; it was about being open with everyone, including friends, that I was committed.

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

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

Tomi: I鈥檇 say it鈥檚 a solid 8. We鈥檝e got the love, respect and commitment down, and we鈥檙e both working on ourselves individually. 

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

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

What鈥檚 your earliest memory of each other?

Amaka: Honestly, I was so embarrassed the first time we met. I spilt wine on his suit at our friend鈥檚 wedding. I expected him to get mad, but he laughed.

Dayo: I think it was funny because it was one of those lowkey 鈥渟ocial distance鈥� weddings. She was trying so hard to apologise, but I was more interested in how she handled the awkwardness. There was something about the way she spoke that I can鈥檛 explain.

Amaka: He was like, 鈥淚t鈥檚 just fabric, not the end of the world.鈥�

What happened next?

Amaka: He slid into my DMs the next day. I was surprised because we didn鈥檛 even talk much after the wine incident at the wedding. But he found me through the wedding hashtag and sent a message that said, 鈥淚 think I owe you a drink for ruining my outfit.鈥� It was cheeky, but I liked it.

Dayo: We started talking online. It was easy. No pressure. We clicked over photography and random memes. I wasn鈥檛 even thinking about dating at the time.

Amaka: We kept it simple, but I always had this quiet vibe that we鈥檇 be more than friends. Neither of us pushed it, though, which was probably the best part.

Why was it the best part?

Amaka: This was in August 2020. I鈥檇 just gotten promoted at a time when a lot of people were getting laid off, so I was really focused on my career. I鈥檇 also been single for about a year after a messy situationship, and honestly, I was happy on my own. Relationships felt like unnecessary drama at that point.

Dayo: It was right in the middle of the pandemic. Everything was crazy, and I was working from home full-time as a software engineer. I鈥檇 gotten out of a serious relationship a few months earlier, so I wasn鈥檛 in any rush to jump into something new either. 

My last relationship ended because we wanted different things鈥攕he wanted to move abroad, and I was committed to staying in Lagos. So, when I met Amaka, I was honestly just chilling, not expecting much to come out of it. 

Neat

Amaka: Yes. It made the whole thing feel less forced. When we did fall in love, it was just good vibes, no baggage from our past creeping in.

About a month after we met, we met up in person for the first time. Dayo suggested getting the drinks he said he owed me, and I was a bit hesitant. I wasn鈥檛 sure if I wanted to take it offline so soon, but something about him felt easy. So, we met at this quiet caf茅 in VI near my office鈥攁 safe, neutral territory.

Dayo: It wasn鈥檛 one of those grand, romantic first dates; we just talked. I ordered the most basic thing鈥攂lack coffee鈥攁nd she made fun of me for it. But that鈥檚 when I knew I liked her. There was no pretense. No one was trying to impress the other.

Is that when the relationship started?

Amaka: Not really. It wasn鈥檛 about sparks flying everywhere; it was more like slipping into something comfortable. I didn鈥檛 even realise three hours had passed that night until they were closing the caf茅. We walked around for a bit after, and it felt鈥� nice.

Dayo: We started talking about a relationship two months in, but it wasn鈥檛 a 鈥淒TR鈥� (define the relationship) moment. It was more like, “Okay, we鈥檙e clearly on the same page here. Let鈥檚 stop pretending this is casual.”

Amaka, what was your response to this?

Amaka: I don鈥檛 remember. We never had that awkward 鈥淲hat are we?鈥� conversation. It just evolved naturally. 

I think the first time it felt serious was when he met my mum that Christmas. That was a big deal for me because she鈥檚 super protective, but he handled it well. After that, we kind of just knew we were in it for the long haul.

What was the relationship like once it started for real?

Amaka: Our dating period was very… simple, in the best way. There were no flashy date nights or grand gestures. It was more about the small things, like when I鈥檇 come home exhausted, and Dayo would just show up with shawarma or my favourite street suya without me asking. 

Dayo: I think people sometimes over-complicate relationships. For us, it was the everyday moments that made it work. 

I remember she鈥檇 make these fire playlists for me when I was coding late at night (she doesn鈥檛 anymore sha). I鈥檇 just have my headphones on, listening to whatever she put together while working, and it made those stressful nights easier.

Sounds like things got serious soon after this?

Amaka: It started feeling more serious when we both realised we were thinking long-term without even talking about it. 

One Sunday, just after Valentine鈥檚 Day 2021, we were strolling around the area after lunch in a restaurant when I asked him, “Do you ever think about where this is going?” 

I wasn鈥檛 trying to make it a deep conversation, so I didn鈥檛 expect much from the question. But Dayo stopped and looked at me like I鈥檇 asked the most obvious thing in the world. When he said, “It鈥檚 already going somewhere special,” it hit me that we were both on the same wavelength without needing to define anything.

Dayo: I wasn鈥檛 really the type to plan out everything, but with Amaka, I could just see it. I knew she was it for me, and that moment felt like we鈥檇 acknowledged what was already happening. We didn鈥檛 rush anything, though. Over the next year, we just kept building, letting things evolve naturally. No pressure, no big talks about timelines.

What was the next big milestone in your relationship?

Amaka: One evening in 2022, we were sitting on my balcony. It was one of those quiet moments when we didn鈥檛 need to fill the silence with small talk. He casually pulled out a ring and slipped it onto my finger, saying, “This feels right. Let鈥檚 do life together.” My heart stopped for several seconds. I was so shocked.

There was no dramatic proposal, no crowd. It was just us, exactly how I always imagined it would be.

Dayo: It wasn鈥檛 planned at all, to be honest. I didn鈥檛 even think about getting down on one knee or anything like that. I just knew that there was no one else I wanted to be with. I didn鈥檛 need to make a show of it because our relationship wasn鈥檛 built on shows. It was built on these small, quiet moments, and that鈥檚 how I wanted to propose鈥攊ntimately, just between us.

It wasn鈥檛 planned, but you had a ring?

Dayo: Months before that, my brother dragged me ring shopping for his girlfriend. And I saw one that I knew Amaka would love. I think that鈥檚 when I knew for sure I wanted her to be my wife. I carried it around in my pocket for months with no plan.

So, what was the engagement period like?

Amaka: It was awkward. 

We hadn鈥檛 really talked in detail about our families or backgrounds. I think we both just liked keeping things light. It wasn鈥檛 until we got deeper into the relationship鈥攎aybe around the time we started talking about marriage鈥攖hat we realised how different our upbringings were. 

I grew up in a very middle-class, 鈥渃omfortable鈥� home. My parents are civil servants, nothing flashy but stable. We didn鈥檛 struggle, but we didn鈥檛 live large either.

Dayo: My family鈥檚 wealthy. But I never really carried that on my sleeve, especially when I started dating Amaka. I didn鈥檛 want it to become this thing where people saw me differently or assumed I was entitled.

Amaka, you didn鈥檛 know he was rich?

Amaka: I had no clue. I just thought he was this humble tech guy, and that was part of what I liked about him. 

But when he invited me to his parents’ house after the engagement, I almost choked. I remember sitting there, trying to act like I wasn鈥檛 intimidated, but it was a lot. His family was polite, but there was this unspoken vibe that felt like I didn鈥檛 exactly fit in.

Dayo: I think that was the first time it really hit both of us how different our worlds were. 

My family… They weren鈥檛 hostile, but they made a few comments about Amaka鈥檚 background, and it was obvious they had concerns. They were expecting me to marry someone inside our circle. I didn鈥檛 tell her right away because I didn鈥檛 want her to feel weird about it. But yeah, it wasn鈥檛 easy navigating that.

How did you navigate it, though?

Amaka: By the time we got serious about marriage, we started facing pressure, especially from his side. My family was more relaxed, but his? They had all these expectations. They weren鈥檛 against me personally, but the expectation of 鈥減roper Lagos society鈥� just got exhausting. 

Every time we鈥檇 try to talk about the wedding, there鈥檇 be all these side comments and subtle jabs. I think one day, I just snapped and said, 鈥淲hy don鈥檛 we just do it our way, without anyone鈥檚 approval?鈥� I meant it as a joke at first.

Dayo: Yeah, that moment was funny because we were just venting about how complicated things were getting with family, especially my mum. We鈥檇 been so caught up in trying to make everyone happy, we almost forgot this was about us. 

The idea of eloping started sounding like freedom. No drama, no trying to impress anyone, just doing what felt right for us.

Eloping? In Nigeria?

Amaka: Once the idea was out there, it stuck. It wasn鈥檛 a big, romantic 鈥渞unaway together鈥� moment. It was more like, 鈥淥kay, let鈥檚 just make this simple.鈥� 

We picked a random Thursday 鈥攖wo weeks after that conversation. No one knew, not even my best friend. We both took the day off work and got married at the Ikoyi Registry. It wasn鈥檛 fancy 鈥攋ust us, two witnesses, and a marriage officer.

Dayo: We didn鈥檛 want anyone to talk us out of it or complicate things, so we didn鈥檛 tell our families until afterwards. After we signed the papers, I remember we went to this small bar, just the two of us, had a couple of drinks, ate pepper soup, and laughed about how we鈥檇 just done the most unconventional thing for a Nigerian couple. 

It felt right, though.

I鈥檓 in shock

Amaka: Afterward, we went back to our apartment like it was just another regular day. No one knew we鈥檇 gotten married, not even our neighbours. It was almost surreal, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I鈥檓 scared to ask how your parents took it when you finally told them

Dayo: My mum was livid. She couldn鈥檛 believe we didn鈥檛 throw a proper wedding, and Amaka鈥檚 family was shocked too. But we figured they鈥檇 come around eventually. We didn鈥檛 elope to hurt anyone.

Amaka: It鈥檚 funny, though鈥攚hen we eloped, a few people started putting the pieces together. They knew something was up, but they couldn鈥檛 figure out what exactly. Some of my friends still don鈥檛 know the full story. 

But did your parents later come around?

Amaka: Of course, my family came around faster than his. At first, they were shocked and a bit hurt that we didn鈥檛 have a traditional wedding, but after some time, they understood why we did it. My mum was just happy I was happy, and my dad kind of laughed it off, saying I鈥檇 always been a bit unconventional.

We ended up doing the traditional in 2023 anyway. 

Dayo: My mum didn鈥檛 speak to me for months, and there was cold silence from my extended family. I think they were embarrassed, to be honest. They kept bringing up how 鈥減roper鈥� weddings were a big deal in our circle and how we basically disrespected my family by eloping. 

But over time, they softened. I think they realised we wouldn鈥檛 apologise for how we chose to do things, and eventually, they accepted that this was who we were.

Do you still get glances and whispers at family gatherings?

Amaka: Not really. How many family gatherings do we even attend these days?

There was one, months after we eloped, where his mum finally just sighed and said, 鈥淵ou two are stubborn.鈥� But then, she smiled. That was her way of giving in, I guess.

Dayo: She still wishes we had a big wedding, though. Every now and then, she鈥檒l drop a comment like, 鈥淵ou can still do a vow renewal, you know?鈥� But at this point, everyone鈥檚 accepted that we did things differently. I think they respect that now, even if it wasn鈥檛 what they wanted.

What about your friends? Are they as accepting?

Amaka: A lot of our friends were completely thrown off when they found out. Some were offended they weren鈥檛 invited. One of my closest friends even jokingly said, 鈥淵ou didn鈥檛 even give me the chance to buy aso ebi.鈥�

Dayo: Yeah, there were some awkward moments for sure. Some of my boys couldn鈥檛 understand why we didn鈥檛 just deal with the family drama. But I think over time, they realised it wasn鈥檛 about the ceremony for us鈥攊t was about keeping our peace.

Right

Dayo: The weirdest comments came from people who asked if our decision meant we were hiding something鈥攍ike, 鈥淒id you elope because of money issues?鈥� or 鈥淲hy were your families against it that much?鈥� It鈥檚 funny how people automatically assume something had to be wrong for us to make that choice. But nah, we just didn鈥檛 want the stress.

Amaka: There were others who totally got it. Some of my friends said they respected how we didn鈥檛 let anyone鈥檚 expectations define us. Still, people give us a knowing look at parties, like we broke some unwritten rule. It鈥檚 like we鈥檝e become the couple that did the 鈥渃razy, rebellious鈥� thing.

I thought it was impossible to elope, knowing Nigerian parents

Amaka: And I think, even now, some of them are still trying to process how we managed to pull it off without letting anyone in. But honestly, most of our real friends are happy for us鈥攖hey just didn鈥檛 expect us to go that far off the beaten path.

Any regrets about it?

Amaka: There are moments I wonder what it would鈥檝e been like to have thebig, Yoruba wedding鈥攚earing aso ebi, having our families all there, you know? But then, I remember the peace of mind we had doing it our way. The stress of trying to please everyone would鈥檝e driven me crazy.

Dayo: I wouldn鈥檛 say I regret it. The only thing I wish is that our families didn鈥檛 take it so hard at the time. It was tough navigating that, especially with my mum, but I don鈥檛 regret the decision itself.

Would you do it again if you could go back in time?

Amaka: I don鈥檛 know o.

Eloping definitely changed the dynamic between us and our families. It put us in a bubble for a while, where it felt like it was just us against the world. In a way, it made us stronger as a couple because we had to rely on each other more. But it also created tension, especially with his family, and that鈥檚 something we had to work through.

Dayo: Well, there was already tension there. Which is why we did what we did. 

But yeah, it made us more united as a couple, but it also forced us to grow up fast. We didn鈥檛 have the safety net of a big wedding or family support from the start, so we had to figure a lot out on our own. It was a good thing in the end, but at the time, it felt heavy.

Right

Amaka: It also changed the way people saw us. Some relatives didn鈥檛 even believe we were married until the traditional wedding. We had to explain to a lot of people that we didn鈥檛 elope just to rebel.

Dayo: But one thing for sure, eloping made us prioritise each other more. It took away all the noise and distractions. It set the tone for our marriage in a way, like, 鈥淚t鈥檚 you and me, no matter what.鈥� That mindset has helped us through a lot of the challenges we鈥檝e faced so far.

What was your first major fight about?

Amaka: Ah, that was over something so silly. We were arguing about where to live. I wanted to stay in Lekki. I was used to the Island, it was close to my work, and let鈥檚 be real, it鈥檚 a vibe. But Dayo was set on staying on the Mainland. He had this whole thing about how Island living was overhyped and it was just going to drain our finances.

Dayo: Yeah, rent on the Island is mad. I couldn鈥檛 justify paying all that money when we could get a much bigger place for less on the Mainland. I grew up in Surulere, and I didn鈥檛 see the big deal. Plus, traffic wasn鈥檛 that bad if we timed things right. 

But I think, for Amaka, it was more than just location. It felt like we were fighting about lifestyle鈥攚hat kind of life we wanted to live together.

How so?

Amaka: It wasn鈥檛 just about the house. The Island represented the life I鈥檇 worked hard for, and I didn鈥檛 want to feel like I was 鈥渄owngrading鈥� by moving to the Mainland. I know it sounds shallow, but I was used to a certain standard of living.

Dayo: That鈥檚 when it got heated. I accused her of being too materialistic, and she said I was being cheap. We were both kind of stubborn about it. The argument went on for days鈥攕ilent treatment, the works. We weren鈥檛 really fighting about the house anymore; we were fighting about the future and what it meant to be together.

When did this happen exactly?

Amaka: It was about six months after we moved in together. So, maybe around February or March 2022? We鈥檇 just gotten past the honeymoon phase of living together, and reality hit us hard.

Oh, so, before eloping?

Dayo: Yeah, that鈥檚 right. By then, we were starting to see the day-to-day struggles of sharing a life鈥攎oney, commuting, all of that. I think it was the first time we had to confront the fact that our backgrounds and expectations didn鈥檛 always align perfectly.

Amaka: I remember crying one night because I felt like we were so different, like maybe we wanted completely different things. But then we had this talk鈥攐ne of those conversations that last till like 2 a.m. We finally got to the heart of it: we were both scared of losing who we were individually by compromising too much.

How did you resolve this?

Dayo: We met halfway. 

We ended up living on the Mainland, but we made sure to prioritise comfort and style. It wasn鈥檛 the Island penthouse Amaka dreamed of, but it was a place we could both call home. Looking back, that fight was less about where we lived and more about learning how to really communicate. It was our first big test as a couple.

Why does it sound like it wasn’t exactly halfway for Amaka?

Amaka: Because it wasn鈥檛. Let鈥檚 be real鈥擨 compromised more. I had anidea of what our life should look like, and I didn鈥檛 get that. Moving to the Mainland felt like a step down at the time, especially when most of my friends lived on the Island. 

Dayo: I think it was more important for me to show her we could create a life we were both comfortable with, without letting societal pressures dictate everything. The truth is, we both had to adjust, but yeah, Amaka definitely gave up more in terms of location.

Amaka: I鈥檒l admit I was salty about it for a while. Every time I hit the Third Mainland Bridge traffic, I鈥檇 remind him whose idea this was. But over time, I got used to it. I think the real halfway came in the way we decorated and made the space feel like ours. That鈥檚 where we truly met in the middle.

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

Amaka: Hmm, I鈥檇 say a solid 8. We鈥檝e had our ups and downs, but we鈥檙e always learning and growing together. The little things he does, like making me tea when I鈥檓 stressed, or listening when I just need to vent鈥攊t鈥檚 those moments that make it an 8 for me.

Dayo: Yeah, I鈥檇 say around an 8 too. We鈥檝e learnt to argue better, love better, and be more patient. Plus, Amaka makes the best creamy pasta, so that bumps the rating up.

Amaka: See, it鈥檚 the food for him! But seriously, we鈥檙e still figuring things out, and that鈥檚 okay.

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 .

READ THIS TOO: We Had 鈥淒ivorce Regret鈥� So We Remarried

What鈥檚 your earliest memory of each other?

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

She was wearing a bright yellow lace iro and buba, looking like the sun itself. She was much younger鈥攋ust 18 or 19鈥攂ut something about her energy drew me in. I didn鈥檛 talk to her at first; I wasn鈥檛 one to approach women like that, but I kept watching her from across the hall.

Eva: Yes, I was young鈥攂arely 18鈥攁nd honestly, I wasn鈥檛 looking for anything serious. I鈥檇 just started university, so I was focused on my studies. When I met Shola, I didn鈥檛 see him as husband material. I thought he was too serious. 

When did you actually meet?

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

Eva: There was something about him that felt stable. He wasn鈥檛 like the boys I knew who were still figuring themselves out. Shola had his life together, and that was鈥� attractive in a way I didn鈥檛 fully understand then. My mum always said I was too naive, too easily swept up by men鈥檚 charms, but I just thought I could make it work.  

And did you make it work?

Shola: Well, we did make it work鈥� at first. I didn鈥檛 even notice the age gap back then. I just thought she was the kind of woman who could grow into a role, into a marriage, and support me like my mother supported my father. Isn鈥檛 that what most of us were looking for back then?  

Eva: But I didn鈥檛 know myself yet. That鈥檚 what people don鈥檛 talk about. I was still becoming 鈥淓va.鈥� At the time, I thought I was mature enough to handle the weight of being a wife, but looking back, I had no idea what I was getting into.

Did you get married soon after meeting?

Shola: Back in the ’90s, relationships weren鈥檛 as complicated as they are now. There wasn鈥檛 all this back and forth with 鈥渢alking stages鈥� and whatnot. Once I met Eva and knew she was the one, I made my intentions clear. But we didn鈥檛 rush; we didn鈥檛 marry until 1996. 

What did you do for three years?

Shola: We… courted, you could say. I wasn鈥檛 one for long, drawn-out relationships, but I respected that she was still young and in school. I gave her the space to finish her studies, but I also wanted her to know that marriage was the end goal. There was no playing around.

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

You have to understand, I was 18 when we started. I had no idea what I was doing, and honestly, it wasn鈥檛 some grand romantic love story in the beginning. 

What was it like then?

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

Eva: Shola was serious, yes, but I was still caught up in the excitement of university and hanging out with my friends. I liked him, and I thought, 鈥淥kay, maybe this could be something.鈥� But he was traditional. I remember when he told me outright, 鈥淚鈥檓 not dating for fun. I鈥檓 with you to marry.鈥� And I wasn鈥檛 sure how to respond to that.

Shola: You were playing hard to get, Eva.

Eva: I wasn鈥檛 playing. I was genuinely unsure. 

In what ways were you unsure?

Eva: Like I said earlier, I didn鈥檛 know myself. I didn鈥檛 really understand what it meant to be a wife. I was barely 21 when we got married; I was still figuring out who I was. Shola had this clear idea of what a wife should be鈥攕upportive, nurturing, someone who could focus on the home while he focused on his career. And I tried to fit into that, but I was still a girl growing into a woman. I didn鈥檛 fully realise it until I hit my 30s and started resenting how much I鈥檇 put aside for our marriage.

What did people around you say at the time?

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

Shola: My friends were a little sceptical about the age gap too, but no one really said much. Back then, it wasn鈥檛 unusual for a man my age to marry a younger woman.

Tell me more about this courting/dating period

Eva: It was a mix of spending time with each other鈥檚 families, and鈥攊f I鈥檓 being honest鈥攎e struggling to balance my school life and the subtle, growing expectation of marriage. 

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

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

Yeah, he was set. But I wasn鈥檛.

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

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

That鈥檚 when everything I鈥檇 pushed down鈥攎y dreams, the version of myself I thought I鈥檇 become鈥攋ust started bubbling up. You know how, in your 20s, you feel like you have all the time in the world? I鈥檇 been so focused on being a 鈥済ood wife,鈥� raising the kids, managing the household, and supporting Shola that I didn鈥檛 stop to think about what I wanted for myself.

Shola: I didn鈥檛 know she felt that way at the time. I thought everything was fine.

Why?

Shola: It just didn鈥檛 add up to me. We never talked about it either.

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

Weren鈥檛 you doing things too, Eva?

Eva: I only worked for a year then the kids came back-to-back, so it made sense to leave work. Shola could afford to take care of us on his salary alone. But I soon started to feel like I didn鈥檛 get the chance to know myself outside of marriage and parenting. I was a wife, a mother, but I wasn鈥檛 *me* anymore. 

Was there a defining moment when this dawned on you?

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

And I just felt… lost. 

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

Eva: I realised then that I wasn鈥檛 鈥渟et.鈥� I wasn鈥檛 who I wanted to be. I鈥檇 been living according to everyone else鈥檚 expectations鈥攎y mother鈥檚, Shola鈥檚, even society鈥檚鈥攂ut not my own. That night, I broke down and cried. It was so random, but it was the first time I allowed myself to feel everything I鈥檇 been pushing aside for years.

How did you respond to this revelation, Shola?

Shola: Actually, she didn鈥檛 say anything to me at that point.

Eva: Because I didn鈥檛 know how to. We weren鈥檛 taught to communicate like that. I didn鈥檛 even know what to say. All I knew was I felt like I was slowly disappearing. I wasn鈥檛 unhappy exactly, but I wasn鈥檛 fulfilled either.

So how did things progress?

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

So I put my dreams on the back burner.

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

What was your reaction?

Shola: I remember I said something like, 鈥淲hat do you mean you鈥檙e not fulfilled? You run a business, you鈥檙e raising our children, we鈥檙e not struggling, so what鈥檚 the problem?鈥� It didn鈥檛 make sense to me at the time because, as a man, you鈥檙e taught that as long as you鈥檙e doing your part鈥攚orking hard, bringing money home, keeping the family together鈥攖hat鈥檚 enough. 

I didn鈥檛 see the cracks forming because, to me, those weren鈥檛 even cracks.

Eva: But it wasn鈥檛 just about the material things. I needed more than a roof over my head and school fees for the kids. I needed to feel like my life had meaning beyond the roles I was playing as a wife and mother. And I know that鈥檚 hard for you to understand because, in your world, those things were everything.

Were you able to get past this?

Shola: Honestly, no.

In my mind, I was doing everything right. I didn鈥檛 cheat, I wasn鈥檛 the type to go out late drinking with friends. I wasn鈥檛 abusive. We had it good. So when she started talking about feeling unfulfilled, I felt like she was… ungrateful. Like she didn鈥檛 appreciate all the sacrifices I鈥檇 made for our family.

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

One time, he said, 鈥淭hose women aren鈥檛 even in happy marriages like you are.鈥� And I remember feeling so small because I didn鈥檛 have the words to explain that I didn鈥檛 just want a 鈥渉appy marriage.鈥� I wanted more for myself.

Shola: I鈥檒l admit, I was young and defensive. I started listing out everything I鈥檇 done for us鈥攖he sacrifices, the work, all of it. I was thinking, 鈥淵ou鈥檙e talking about finding yourself? What about finding time to appreciate me?鈥� At the time, I saw it as a personal attack, as though I was failing as a husband.

Eva, why do you think starting the business didn鈥檛 make it better?

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

Baking was just a hobby I decided to make money off to keep myself busy. It wasn鈥檛 something I was passionate about the way he was about his investment banking, and stoked to go into the office every day like it was cocaine. That鈥檚 a major thing that triggered my emptiness, watching him for years, doing something he was deeply passionate about and getting value from it.

Shola: It took me a while to realise marriage isn鈥檛 just about fulfilling basic roles鈥攊t鈥檚 about both partners growing together. At that point, though, I wasn鈥檛 ready to admit that maybe I wasn鈥檛 doing enough in that area.

Eva: I needed us to connect emotionally, to feel like we were still growing together. I needed to be seen as more than just 鈥淪hola鈥檚 wife鈥� or the mother of your children. I didn鈥檛 know how to express that properly back then, and I think that鈥檚 why things fell apart.

Fell apart?

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

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

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

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

Our divorce was finalised in 2018.

So you just accepted her request for divorce, Shola?

Shola: I didn鈥檛 see it coming, or maybe I didn鈥檛 want to see it. In Nigeria, we don鈥檛 get divorced. In my mind, no matter how bad things got, divorce wasn鈥檛 an option. You separate, you give each other space, maybe things cool off for a while, but divorce? No. 

I remember telling her, 鈥淲e don鈥檛 do this. We don鈥檛 break up families over feelings.鈥� I was holding onto the belief that if I just stayed the course, eventually, she鈥檇 change her mind. But then she started sending papers and talking about moving to the UK.

Eva: I didn鈥檛 make that decision lightly. I鈥檇 felt disconnected for years, and every time I tried to express it, it was like I was hitting a wall. He was so focused on what marriage looked like to the outside world that he couldn鈥檛 see what was happening inside.

What happened when you saw she was serious, Shola?

Shola: I was angry. Really angry. 

I felt like she was abandoning me, like after all the years we put in, she was just throwing it all away. My friends, my family, they all told me the same thing: 鈥淒on鈥檛 sign the papers. She鈥檒l come back to her senses.鈥� Even my mother, God bless her, kept saying, 鈥淎 woman鈥檚 place is with her husband. She鈥檒l realise what she鈥檚 doing is wrong.鈥� But she didn鈥檛.

Eva: By 2016, I knew staying in the marriage was only making me more resentful. I wasn鈥檛 being fair to you or myself. I didn鈥檛 want our kids to see us just going through the motions, pretending like everything was fine when it wasn鈥檛.

How did your kids react to the news?

Shola: The kids… well, that was probably the hardest part. They took it differently, but it was tough on all of them. Our eldest didn鈥檛 talk to me much during the process. He was closer to his mother, and I think he blamed me for everything that was going on. There was a lot of tension between us during that time.

Eva: He鈥檇 grown up seeing us as a unit, and suddenly, we weren鈥檛 that anymore. He told me once, 鈥淢um, why didn鈥檛 you just talk to Dad? Why didn鈥檛 you guys work it out?鈥� And that broke my heart because he didn鈥檛 understand that it wasn鈥檛 for lack of trying. He was angry at both of us for a while.

I can imagine

Shola: The other two took it much worse. 

I鈥檒l never forget one evening, shortly after Eva had relocated with them, Kemi called me crying. She said she missed how things were, and she didn鈥檛 understand why we couldn鈥檛 just fix it. I didn鈥檛 know what to say to her because, honestly, I didn鈥檛 understand it fully either. I was still coming to terms with everything myself.

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

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

Eva: It wasn鈥檛 like one of those grand epiphanies you see in movies; we just reconnected thanks to the pandemic. 

After the divorce, we didn鈥檛 talk much except when it was about the kids. I was living in the UK, and Shola was still in Lagos. Honestly, I thought that was it. I was focused on starting over鈥攇etting my life back together, and he was doing his own thing. But COVID happened, everyone was locked in, and suddenly there was all this time and space for reflection. 

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

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

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

What was said during this call?

Eva: I remember feeling irritated at first. Like, 鈥淲hat does he want now?鈥� But the conversation wasn鈥檛 about logistics or the kids鈥攊t was just… us. We talked for hours that night. It was so strange because, after years of bitterness, anger, and silence, there was this sudden openness. I won鈥檛 say I forgave everything right away, but we started talking regularly. It became a thing. I鈥檇 look forward to his calls.

Shola: The first call… I wasn鈥檛 sure what I was expecting, but it was easier than I thought. We laughed about old times. We didn鈥檛 jump straight back into a romantic relationship; that would鈥檝e been impossible. We had a lot of issues to sort through, a lot of resentment to unpack.

Did you figure out exactly what?

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

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

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

Eva: When the world opened up again, I didn鈥檛 just pack my bags and move back. We visited each other a few times in 2021, and it felt nice, like we were rebuilding something that鈥檇 been lost. Suddenly, I felt this pang of 鈥溾�� that wouldn鈥檛 go away. It kept reminding me that he didn鈥檛 do anything wrong; I only needed to find myself outside him, and now, I had.

When I finally moved back to Nigeria in 2022, we decided to take things slow. We started dating again. I honestly don鈥檛 know how that happened. We went out, spent time with family. I think what really helped was that we no longer had the pressure of the kids living with us. They were in the UK, and we could just focus on each other.

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

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

When did the idea of a remarriage come up?

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

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

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

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

Eva: I鈥檇 say a solid 7. I know that might sound low to some people, especially after all we鈥檝e been through. But marriage鈥攅specially the second time around鈥攊sn鈥檛 about perfection for me anymore.Shola: For me, 8. I agree with Eva, but we鈥檙e in a much better and easier place than we were during our first marriage.

What鈥檚 your earliest memory of each other?

Nonso: It was in 2015, during one of those boring group projects in university. We were in 200 level; she was always quiet, just in the background. We didn鈥檛 talk much back then, but I noticed her, you know? I didn鈥檛 think much of it.

Jane: I saw Nonso for the first time in 100 level. We were in the same department but different courses. He was helping someone with their laptop at the library. He was out of my league鈥攖all, good-looking, and surrounded by people who were always laughing at his jokes. 

Everyone knew him, and his name always found its way into people鈥檚 conversations. Over time, I realised why; he was just charming, kind and smart鈥攂asically perfect.

How did that make you feel?

Jane: I liked him, just like everyone else, but I kept my distance after that. It was easier than trying to force something when I felt so invisible. I used to daydream about us meeting under different circumstances, like maybe if I looked better or felt more confident, but back then, I convinced myself it wasn鈥檛 meant to be. 

Nonso: Honestly, if you鈥檇 talked to me then, I probably would鈥檝e been surprised. I never really got that you had a crush on me until we reconnected years later.

But why were you so sure it wasn鈥檛 meant to be, Jane?

Jane: I didn鈥檛 feel like I was good enough for him. I was overweight, shy, and insecure, and he was the type of guy who walks into a room and everyone gravitates towards him. He was always close to one beautiful girl after the other, and they were also the perfect 鈥渟lim, kind, talented and smart鈥� types. 

I felt like I was stuck on the sidelines.

Nonso: Nine years later, I still can’t fully wrap my head around this. Honestly, it鈥檚 strange thinking back and realising how much she was going through at the time. To me, she was just鈥� there, like another face in the crowd.

Harsh

Nonso: I don鈥檛 mean it in a bad way at all. We never had the opportunity to meet and get to know each other then. Hearing that she felt invisible, especially to me, kinda messes with me. I never saw myself as that guy鈥攖he type who makes someone feel less-than. 

Jane: I watched the girls he hung out with鈥攆it, confident, always looking like they had their lives together. And then there was me, avoiding pictures because I hated how I looked, dodging social events because I didn鈥檛 want anyone to notice me. I honestly thought, “Why would a guy like him even look at someone like me?” It was like we lived in two different worlds.

Right

Jane: And you know how Lagos is. Everyone鈥檚 so quick to point out your weight or appearance. I鈥檇 gotten enough backhanded compliments from family, friends, even strangers at parties鈥攖hings like, “You have such a pretty face for someone your size.” That stuff sticks, no matter how much you try to shrug it off. 

So I told myself it wouldn鈥檛 happen. He鈥檇 never notice me the way I wanted him to, and honestly, I didn鈥檛 want to embarrass myself.

Nonso: If I鈥檓 being completely honest, it makes me wonder about myself a bit. Like, did I give off some vibe that I鈥檇 only be interested in a certain type of girl? School can be very superficial, especially within certain circles, and maybe I didn鈥檛 realise how much I fed into that image back then. 

Jane: Looking back, it was unhealthy thinking on my part. But at the time, I didn鈥檛 know better. It just felt safer to avoid him than to face the possibility of rejection.

So you went the whole university period without meeting officially?

Jane: We were in the same spaces, same group projects sometimes, but I always made sure to keep my distance. There were times when I鈥檇 see him at events or, like, random hangouts, and I鈥檇 just quietly leave or make myself as invisible as possible. I didn’t want him to remember me as “the fat girl trying too hard鈥�. 

Nonso: It鈥檚 wild to hear her talk about it. Honestly, I can鈥檛 remember noticing her at those events. Not because she wasn鈥檛 noticeable or anything, but because back then, I wasn鈥檛 really paying much attention to the people around me like that. I was just living in the moment, you know? Typical university stuff.

How do you feel about this in hindsight?

Jane: It was kind of exhausting, now that I think about it. 

I was basically orchestrating my own disappearance from his life. I鈥檇 see him laughing with his friends or some girl, and just immediately feel like I didn鈥檛 belong there. I never gave myself the chance to just be in the same room without overthinking everything. 

Nonso: If she鈥檇 come up to me back then, I don鈥檛 think I would鈥檝e been rude or anything. 

Was that really the concern?

Jane: That鈥檚 the thing, though. It wasn鈥檛 that I thought he鈥檇 be rude. It鈥檚 that I thought he wouldn鈥檛 notice me in the way I wanted him to. Like, I鈥檇 be just another person, and that was scarier in a way. I felt like I had to be someone he鈥檇 actually like. 

Nonso: I wonder what it would’ve been like if she鈥檇 approached me back then鈥攚ithout the weight loss, without changing anything about herself. Would I have seen her the same way I do now? It’s a hard question to answer. I wasn鈥檛 as mature then.

Jane: So yeah, I stayed away. I鈥檇 hear through our coursemates how he was doing, but we never talked. It鈥檚 weird thinking we were just floating around each other for years without ever properly crossing paths.

How far did you go to be this 鈥渋deal鈥� girlfriend?

Jane: I went far. 

I feel crazy thinking about it. I don鈥檛 understand why I felt so strongly about him. Like, it wasn鈥檛 just about losing weight, though that was a huge part of it. I lost over 30 kg because I hated my body and felt like he鈥檇 never even glance my way if I didn鈥檛 change that. 

But it wasn鈥檛 just the physical stuff. I started paying attention to the kind of girls he hung out with, what they looked like, how they dressed, how they carried themselves. And I felt like I had to match that level of “put-together鈥�. 

Nonso: Part of me feels guilty, like, why did she feel she had to go through all of that? At the same time, I鈥檓 grateful because I love who she is now, but it鈥檚 hard knowing she had to mould herself so much just for us to get here.

Right. What else did you do, Jane?

Jane: I鈥檇 stalk his social media to see the kind of things he posted about鈥攍ike, what music he listened to, what books he was reading, even what restaurants he liked. And I鈥檇 try to get into those things, too. I started listening to his favourite artists, reading the same books, even getting into fitness because he was always posting about hitting the gym. 

Nonso: This is so hard to listen to. It鈥檚 flattering, but also overwhelming. It鈥檚 nice that she tried to connect with my interests, but I think I would鈥檝e liked her just the way she was.

Jane: I wanted to be able to have conversations with him that made me seem interesting, like I was on his level. I know it鈥檒l sound hard to believe, but I didn鈥檛 do any of these things in a creepy way. I just wanted to better myself, and he was the perfect motivation.

And your interest in him didn鈥檛 die down after graduation?

Jane: I remember even turning down guys I was attracting during that time because, in my head, they weren鈥檛 Nonso. 

There was one guy, actually, that I dated briefly in 2018. He was sweet, but I kept thinking, “He鈥檚 not who I really want,” so I ended things after a few months. It鈥檚 crazy looking back on it because I was holding out for someone I wasn鈥檛 even sure would notice me. 

Nonso, what was your dating life like before Jane?

Nonso: Ah, my dating life was… let鈥檚 say “active” during university. I wasn鈥檛 looking for anything serious back then. I was attending events, meeting different girls. Lagos dating culture is wild鈥攜ou鈥檙e either in it for the vibes or chasing something serious, and I was firmly in the first category.

Jane: I think that鈥檚 part of why I鈥檓 now glad I never bothered to approach him then.

Nonso: Yeah. I had a couple of short-term relationships, nothing too deep. After university, I was focused on my career. I think the longest relationship I had before Jane was about six months, but we broke up because we didn鈥檛 really vibe emotionally. 

Looking back, I was avoiding anything too serious because I wasn鈥檛 ready for it, or maybe I just hadn鈥檛 met the right person. It wasn鈥檛 until Jane and I reconnected that I started thinking about something deeper and more long-term. She came at a time when I was maturing, and I think that made all the difference.

So how did you reconnect?

Nonso: It wasn鈥檛 planned or anything dramatic, at least I don鈥檛 think it was. 

It was at someone鈥檚 birthday party in December 2022, and there she was. I didn鈥檛 recognise her; it took a while to put two and two together.

Jane: I was super nervous about seeing him again. I鈥檇 been following his updates on social media, but meeting him in person felt like a whole new challenge. I didn鈥檛 want him to see me as the girl from university who was too shy to even say hi. 

When I saw him at that party, I thought, 鈥淗ere鈥檚 my chance to make a real first impression.鈥� So I approached him, and we just talked like we were catching up after a long time. I didn鈥檛 even know he didn鈥檛 know who I was.

When did you both catch on?

Nonso: Later on in the event. 

We had a couple of our former coursemates there, so the references added up at some point. I was like, 鈥淲ait, you鈥檙e that Jane?!鈥� I was shocked and happy at the same time. We talked and the conversation was easy, and I was surprised by how much we had in common. 

We started hanging out, going on dates, and just enjoying each other鈥檚 company. It wasn鈥檛 until months passed and we were deeper into our relationship that Jane revealed everything she鈥檇 done to be with me. It was a shock, but it also made me see her in a different light. 

Jane: Yeah, I guess I felt like if I could become his dream girl, everything would fall into place. But it wasn鈥檛 easy. I lost myself for a while.

In what ways?

Jane: I became obsessed with changing. For most of those eight years, I was constantly critiquing myself and feeling like I wasn鈥檛 enough unless I changed. If I missed a workout day or ate too much one time, I鈥檇 be so mean to myself. It was tough, but I think I鈥檓 better for it today.

Nonso: I鈥檓 proud of her for her growth and everything she鈥檚 achieved, but the reason behind it feels鈥� complicated.

Jane: I also struggled with mad anxiety that it wouldn鈥檛 work out in the end. It took reconnecting with him and seeing how we felt about each other to start reclaiming who I am and who I want to be. It鈥檚 been a journey to rebuild my confidence and embrace myself without pretence.

Did people close to you know you were doing these things?

Jane: Not the full extent of it. 

They noticed the physical changes, and they were supportive of my health goals, but I downplayed how much it was driven by wanting to impress someone. I told them I was just working on being my best self and getting in shape, which wasn鈥檛 a complete lie. I didn鈥檛 want to worry them or have them think I was doing it for the wrong reasons.

Nonso: I honestly would do the same in your shoes.

Same

Jane: I kept up a facade with my friends, too. They knew I was changing my look and interests, but they just assumed it was a personal growth phase. I would occasionally mention my crush on Nonso, but I kept the depth of my efforts hidden. I didn鈥檛 want them to think I was fixated or that my self-worth was wrapped up in getting his attention.

It was a lonely process, but I felt like I had to go through it alone to make it work.

Now, almost two years in, does it feel worth it?

Jane: Yes. I feel happier and healthier than ever today.

It鈥檚 been an adjustment, after putting him on a pedestal for so long. But like I said, I鈥檓 not crazy. I expected him to have flaws and be a human being. I鈥檝e learnt that he鈥檚 actually a grumpy grumps and only charming when he鈥檚 outside. I鈥檝e learnt that beneath his interests, he has quirks鈥攍ike how he actually hates going to the gym even though he still does it semi-regularly.

Nonso: I hate working out. Once I鈥檓 35, I鈥檒l just embrace whatever potbelly life throws at me. 

Jokes aside, I didn鈥檛 know her then, but I love her for who she is now. Even though I鈥檓 still coming to terms with her claims that she changed a lot to make this relationship work even before we really knew each other, it feels like what you see is what you get with her. 

Have you ever regretted any part of what led up to this relationship?

Jane: What鈥檚 interesting is that the real Nonso is better in ways I never expected. He鈥檚 more grounded and thoughtful than the version of him I created in my head. When we have tough conversations, he鈥檚 patient, and he listens. It鈥檚 the little things鈥攍ike how he shows up when I鈥檓 stressed, or how he genuinely cares about my well-being鈥攖hat I couldn鈥檛 have known about from the outside looking in.

So, no. I can鈥檛 say there鈥檚 ever been a moment I regret waiting and changing for him.

Nonso: It鈥檚 funny because hearing her talk about this makes me realise how much pressure I was under without even knowing. It鈥檚 crazy to think someone could spend years building you up in their head, and you have to live up to that. I know I鈥檝e disappointed her in ways she鈥檚 not mentioning. I鈥檓 not the neatest guy, and I can be forgetful.

But what I love about where we are now is that she鈥檚 seeing me for me, and she鈥檚 still here. We鈥檝e been figuring each other out, and yeah, there鈥檚 been tension, but I think we鈥檝e come out stronger for it. 

Tell me about this tension. What was your first major fight about?

Jane: Oh, I remember this clearly鈥攊t was about two months into the relationship, days after I told Nonso everything. I thought I was being honest and vulnerable, but he got really quiet, almost distant, and it made me panic. He said something like, 鈥淪o, do you even know who you are outside of me?鈥� That hit me hard. I felt like he was undermining everything I鈥檇 done to get to where we were.

Nonso: I didn鈥檛 know how to handle what she told me鈥攊t was a lot to process. I wasn鈥檛 upset that she made changes; I was more concerned about the mindset behind it. Like, I appreciated everything she did, but the fact that she felt she had to go that far to be with me didn鈥檛 sit right. 

How did you react?

Jane: I got defensive, started pointing out how I felt like I鈥檇 sacrificed so much to be with him, and it spiralled from there. I accused him of not understanding how much I鈥檇 struggled with my self-esteem over the years. I remember saying, 鈥淚f you don鈥檛 want me, just say it now,鈥� and he looked so frustrated, like he didn鈥檛 even know how to respond. 

Nonso: When I asked her if she knew who she was outside of me, it wasn鈥檛 to hurt her, but because I was genuinely worried. I didn鈥檛 want her to think the only way we could work was if she kept trying to fit into some idea of who I wanted her to be. The tension came from that misunderstanding鈥攕he thought I didn鈥檛 appreciate her sacrifices, and I felt like she was sacrificing too much of herself.

That makes sense

Jane: That was the first time we really clashed because we were coming at the situation from completely different perspectives. I felt like I鈥檇 done everything for love, and he saw it as desperation.

Nonso: It got heated because we were both emotional. I remember thinking it was supposed to be the honeymoon phase, but instead, we were having these deep, painful conversations about identity and self-worth. I didn鈥檛 have the right words at that moment, and I think that made things worse.

But you resolved things in the end

Jane: Yes. We didn鈥檛 talk much afterward, and I even thought it might be the end. I tried to be brave about it, reminding myself that I鈥檇 prepared for the possibility that he still wouldn鈥檛 like me despite my efforts, and that鈥檚 okay. 

But literally the next day, which was a Sunday, he reached out. We skipped service and met up to have a calmer conversation about it. We realised we were both coming from places of insecurity鈥攎e with my body and self-worth, and him with the pressure he felt to be the “perfect” guy I鈥檇 built up in my mind.

Nonso: It鈥檚 crazy. The whole thing is crazy to me, but it honestly just feels like destiny. I鈥檝e gotten a lot more spiritual in the last year, and I see God鈥檚 hand in this, TBH. Sometimes, I just stare at her for long minutes and am amazed to be with someone like her. We have a few moments like that when we鈥檙e just alone and quiet together. 

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

Jane: 9. I have my dream man. 

I know as feminist, we鈥檙e not supposed to treat men like the prize, but I set my mind to a goal and achieved it. It only means all my other ambitious life goals are achievable.

Nonso: 10. I have a driven and beautiful woman who I know beyond a doubt wants and loves me. I definitely won a prize.

READ THIS TOO: It鈥檚 My 2nd Marriage, and He鈥檚 13 Years Younger Than Me

What鈥檚 your earliest memory of each other?

Peter: It was my first day at my first job post-NYSC in 2017. He started some months before me, but we were both fresh out of university. I鈥檇 heard horror stories about working in Lagos, so I was already bracing myself for the worst. 

Ayo walked in that morning all self-assured. He ended up being assigned as my mentor during orientation, and I was struck by how easy it was to talk to him. It wasn鈥檛 just small talk; we had a real conversation about our hopes, fears and what we wanted out of life, on that first day.

Ayo: My earliest memory of him is his laugh. It was the first thing that stood out to me鈥攈ow he could be so nervous yet still find something to laugh about. We were in this awkward team-building exercise some days into the orientation, where everyone was supposed to share something unique about themselves. 

Most people said the usual things, but Peter blurted out that he was obsessed with old-school cartoons. Everyone laughed; there was something about the way he made people feel at ease, like he was always trying to make the world a little less serious. I think that鈥檚 when I knew I wanted to be around him more.

Did you tell each other how you felt right away?

Peter: Oh, definitely not. It took a long time for us to get there. I didn鈥檛 even realise I liked him in that way at first. 

We became friends. We鈥檇 go to work together, have lunch together, hang out on weekends. People would joke that we were like an old married couple, but I brushed it off as just that鈥攁 joke. 

Ayo: No, it wasn鈥檛 immediate at all. I had my guard up for a long time because of past experiences. I鈥檇 been with a few guys before, and none of those ended well. 

When I met Peter, our connection was deep from the start. But I didn鈥檛 want to mess it up by rushing things or assuming he felt the same way. I mean, I didn鈥檛 even know if he was queer or not. And in Nigeria, you have to be so careful. Even if someone is your best friend, you can never be too sure how they鈥檒l react to you being gay. 

Peter: Plus, I鈥檇 never been in a relationship before, so I didn鈥檛 even know what it felt like to like someone. It was only after a few years, when I started feeling a pang of jealousy whenever Ayo talked about dating someone else, that I began to understand my feelings.

What was the specific turning point?

Ayo: We had this one night when we just sat in my room talking about everything and nothing, and I felt like I had to say something. I could just sense that he felt the same way, but neither of us wanted to make the first move. It was almost like we were waiting for the other person to give a sign. 

It just slipped out awkwardly. I told him I loved him. And it was such a relief when I did because he said it back. We just sat there, both a little stunned by the reality of what we鈥檇 admitted to each other.

Peter: He鈥檚 forgetting to add that this was over two years after we met.

What happened within the span of those years?

Ayo: Again, we were really good friends鈥攚ho happened to spend almost all our time together.

Peter: We鈥檇 go for things like short film screenings and art exhibitions; things that none of our other friends particularly found fun. I think the bond solidified over us loving the same niche things, like manga and long walks. 

I鈥檇 always wanted to be involved in running marathons. And I never would鈥檝e if I didn鈥檛 have someone like him, who was just as interested, to motivate me.

How did the relationship evolve after?

Peter: Things became鈥� complicated. 

We didn鈥檛 just jump into a relationship. We were still figuring out what this meant for us for some time. It鈥檚 one thing to admit your feelings; it鈥檚 another thing entirely to navigate those feelings in a place like Nigeria. So, we kind of tiptoed around it for a while. We continued being friends, but with this new layer of understanding between us.

Ayo: It was a weird transition. 

We didn鈥檛 go on dates. We created our own version of dating鈥攁 lot of nights in, eating my mum鈥檚 dinner together in my small room, watching movies, just being in each other鈥檚 company. We鈥檇 eat together during lunch breaks too, and while it looked like two colleagues hanging out, there was this new, unspoken bond between us. 

But there was also this tension, because we were constantly looking over our shoulders, worried someone might catch on.

Sounds tedious

Ayo: It wasn鈥檛 until a few months later that we had our first real date outside our homes. We went to this small, quiet restaurant where no one knew us. We sat in the corner, hardly touching, just talking. But for us, that felt like the most rebellious thing we could do鈥攋ust sit there, in public, as a couple.

But Ayo, you鈥檝e been in relationships with other men. Was this how those went too?

Ayo: They weren鈥檛 even real relationships, now that I think about it. They were more like flings, mostly physical. I was younger then, and I didn鈥檛 really understand what I wanted or needed from a partner. I just knew I was attracted to men. And to be honest, those relationships were toxic. 

With Peter, it鈥檚 never been about sex鈥攊t鈥檚 about the way we understand each other.

Peter: We didn鈥檛 even know we were both asexual until much later, which probably explains why his other relationships never worked. 

Ayo: It鈥檚 about having someone who truly gets you, who makes you feel safe in a world that constantly tells you you鈥檙e wrong for being who you are. So yeah, while we鈥檙e always careful, it鈥檚 the first time I鈥檝e felt like I鈥檓 in a relationship that isn鈥檛 defined by sex or secrecy but by love, respect, and this deep, almost spiritual connection.

Do you have support systems?

Peter: That’s tricky. Besides each other, it鈥檚 really limited. 

We can鈥檛 talk to our families about it鈥攖hey鈥檙e either too religious, too traditional, or just outright homophobic. Most of our friends don鈥檛 even know we鈥檙e together; they just think we鈥檙e really close friends who spend a lot of time together. There are a couple of people we鈥檝e confided in, but it鈥檚 always a gamble. 

Ayo: Yeah, it鈥檚 tough. We don鈥檛 have the luxury of a typical support system. There鈥檚 no one to run to when things get hard, no family dinners where we can just be ourselves. My past experiences have made me even more cautious. I鈥檝e been outed before by someone I thought I could trust, and it was a nightmare. 

That鈥檚 why we鈥檙e so careful now.

You must have some friends close enough to know by now鈥�

Peter: We stick to small, private groups where we can share our experiences with other queer people, both in Nigeria and abroad. 

There鈥檚 this added pressure to stay under the radar, especially with how dangerous society is these days. We avoid PDA, even the smallest things like holding hands or sitting too close together. It鈥檚 exhausting, but we鈥檝e learnt to navigate it. We have our own little code words and signals for when we鈥檙e out in public. 

Ayo: Actually, the isolation is the hardest part. 

Most times, it feels like we鈥檙e the only two people in the world who understand what we鈥檙e going through. And sometimes, that pressure gets to us. We鈥檝e had arguments about it鈥攁bout how much we can or can鈥檛 say to certain people, about whether it鈥檚 worth the risk to confide in someone new.

How do you navigate that constant fear?

Peter: We just keep going. The same way we all navigate the fear of dollar crashing and ruining your business, or you or your family getting kidnapped, or random fuel scarcity, inflation鈥攅verything else that鈥檚 wrong with this country. 

Ayo: We鈥檝e thought about leaving Nigeria, moving somewhere we can just be ourselves without fear, but it鈥檚 not that simple. Leaving would mean starting over from scratch. There鈥檚 this weird sense of attachment to this place, even with all its flaws. It鈥檚 home, you know?

Peter: That being said, I wish there were more queer resources available. It would make a world of difference to have access to counselling, safe spaces, or even just more understanding friends and family. But until that day comes, we鈥檙e our own support system, and we鈥檝e learnt to be okay with that.

But do you plan to just never tell your family about each other?

Peter: Are you sure you’re a Nigerian with Nigerian parents? 

If I鈥檓 being honest, the thought of telling my family terrifies me. They鈥檙e very religious鈥攃hurch every Sunday, prayer meetings during the week, that kind of thing. I know exactly how they鈥檇 react if I came out to them. It wouldn鈥檛 be just disappointment; it would be outright rejection. They鈥檇 probably try to 鈥渇ix鈥� me, take me to some pastor for deliverance or something like that. 

And if that didn鈥檛 work, I鈥檇 be cut off. No contact, no support, nothing.

Ayo: I鈥檝e gone back and forth on this a lot. Then reality hits, and I remember who my family is. My parents aren鈥檛 even religious like that, but they have zero tolerance for anything outside the norm. I remember when one of my cousins was rumoured to be gay about a decade ago; they cut him off completely. And he wasn鈥檛 even gay.

Wild

Peter: It鈥檚 not just about me, either. I鈥檓 the firstborn, and I have younger siblings. If I come out, it would affect them too. My parents might see it as some sort of failure on their part and take it out on them. I can鈥檛 do that to them. So I鈥檝e made peace with the fact that my family may never know. 

Maybe one day, I might reconsider. But for now, it鈥檚 just not worth the risk.

Ayo: I don鈥檛 think I ever will. My parents keep asking when I鈥檒l settle down with a nice girl, start a family. I usually just laugh it off or change the subject.

It鈥檚 a painful situation to be in, and it sucks that we even have to think like this. I wish things were different. I wish I could introduce Peter to my family, let them see how much he means to me. But I know that鈥檚 not the reality we live in. It鈥檚 not ideal, but it鈥檚 the only way we can maintain some semblance of peace in our lives.

The friends who do know about this, how did they react?

Peter: They鈥檙e exhausting, to be honest. Even the ones in the queer communities we鈥檝e joined over time, you鈥檇 think they鈥檇 know better. The constant questions about who鈥檚 the masculine and who鈥檚 the feminine partner are probably the most frustrating. 

Ayo and I are both masculine, and that doesn鈥檛 fit the stereotype. People look at us and assume one of us must play a certain role or that we鈥檙e not being 鈥渁uthentic鈥� to their idea of what a queer relationship should look like.

Ayo: A lot of it comes from ignorance. People don鈥檛 know what they don鈥檛 know, and we鈥檙e often faced with having to educate them, which can be draining. When people ask who鈥檚 the masculine and who鈥檚 the feminine partner, it feels like they鈥檙e not just questioning our roles in the relationship, but our entire legitimacy. 

Or the ones who assume men are only gay because of the sex.

Really?

Ayo: Yes, and it鈥檚 hurtful.

People have this ingrained idea that sex is a crucial part of men 鈥渂ecome鈥� gay, so when they find out it鈥檚 not part of ours, they call us liars or think we鈥檙e crazy. It just makes us more determined to live our truth and show our love is valid, no matter what anyone thinks.

Does that mean you don鈥檛 have sex at all?

Peter: Yes, that鈥檚 right.

When we first got together, we both realised we were on the same page about it. For us, intimacy is more about emotional connection, trust and companionship. It doesn鈥檛 mean we don鈥檛 have a deep, intimate relationship鈥攊t just means that sex isn鈥檛 a part of it. We鈥檝e never felt pressured to include it because it鈥檚 just not something either of us craves.

Ayo: Our first kiss was so awkward, and I was terrified. We wondered if something was wrong or if we should be doing something different. But once we understood ourselves better, it was a huge relief. We love to hug and cuddle and just feel each other鈥檚 warmth. But that鈥檚 where it ends. 

Can we unpack the part where people assume sex is the main reason why people are queer?

Ayo: I don鈥檛 know if it鈥檚 just me, but I鈥檝e noticed that people can鈥檛 fathom that a same-sex relationship can be about more than just sex. They see two men in a relationship, and immediately jump to conclusions that it can never be that deep.

Peter: When we finally share that we鈥檙e both asexual, people are shocked. Even other queer people. We鈥檝e had to deal with a lot of unprovoked questioning.

Interesting. Any plans for the future?

Peter: Moving in together seems like the most natural thing to do, especially after five years together. But for us, it鈥檚 complicated. Living together as two men who aren鈥檛 related would raise too many eyebrows, especially in the kind of neighbourhoods we can afford to live in. People are nosy, and they talk. 

My family, for example, would want to know why I鈥檓 living with another man instead of getting married and starting a family. They鈥檇 probably show up unannounced, and that鈥檚 not a risk we can take. 

Ayo: But we always spend more time at my place. 

The plan is to move to Abuja together once my rent is due in February鈥攁way from everyone we both know. We鈥檝e started looking for jobs there, so fingers crossed. Neither of us particularly wants kids; we鈥檒l just grow old together living our private lives.

Why don鈥檛 you want kids?

Ayo: No big reason. It鈥檚 just too complicated for us to plan towards right now.

What was your first major fight about?

Peter: Some months after we decided to date, weeks before we鈥檇 even convinced ourselves to go on an outside date, Ayo invited a friend over to his place while I was there, without giving me a heads-up. 

I felt uncomfortable because I鈥檇 never met this friend before and wasn鈥檛 sure how I would be perceived. I鈥檓 someone who values having a bit of notice before having new people come into my personal space, especially since we were still figuring out our relationship.

Ayo: I honestly thought he was overreacting and being too reserved. It was like he didn鈥檛 trust me and judgement鈥攁nd in my own father鈥檚 house again? But now, I know it was more about him needing to feel comfortable and secure in our shared spaces. 

How did this turn into a fight?

Peter: We ended up having a long conversation about it after the guy left, and it was very heated. We both felt hurt and misunderstood, and it took a while for us to really listen to each other鈥檚 perspectives.

Ayo: I don鈥檛 know why but I felt judged for my choice of friends. I felt like he wasn鈥檛 giving me the flexibility to make decisions about my own space. 

His reaction also felt too different from his usual way of laughing things off and taking nothing seriously. But after I calmed down and gave him small silent treatment, I realised he was just scared. He鈥檇 just come out to himself, whereas I鈥檇 known I was queer much longer than him.

I still didn鈥檛 apologise sha.

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

Peter: 7. I can鈥檛 wait for us to move in together so the rating can go higher. 

Ayo: Yes. Probably a 7.

ANOTHER ONE: I Fell in Love With My Childhood Friend