Once, in Lagos, there was a young dreamer named Sade. She was not yet married. But she had her entire wedding planned out before she even met her husband. Her Pinterest board overflowed with aso ebi styles and multi-tier cakes with sparklers. She had images of destination honeymoons in Zanzibar. To her, marriage was the crowning glory of adulthood. It was a chance to wear the title “Mrs” with pride and shut her aunties up for good.
Three years into married life, Sade wasn’t the queen she imagined. There she was in my office, looking like a puppy’s leftover. Her
headscarf was slightly crooked. Dark circles cast shadows to her beauty. The bags under her eyes could were from Dangote cement. Stress oozed out of her pores like a stubborn body ordour.
“Sir, why didn’t you warn me? Marriage is not what Instagram said it would be. The only ‘forever’ here is the stress,” she said with regret.
Here’s why.
1. Not yet married? Think of lost identity
In Nigeria, once you tie the knot, you lose your “self” identity. No more personal identity! For a man, his identity dissolves into his new role. Nobody cares about him anymore as an individual. Conversations change from “How are you?” to “How is madam?” And the moment kids arrive, it gets worse: “How is the family?” His name changes from “Boda” or “Broda” to “Baba Somebody.”
For women, it’s even bleaker. Her surname changes. The link with her maiden family is broken.
Sade no longer felt like the vibrant, ambitious woman she was before marriage. Now, she was “Mrs. Somebody,” and her worth was measured by how well she kept the home.
“Marriage in Nigeria,” Sade observed, “is the fastest way to lose your first name. You just become someone’s wife or someone’s mummy.”
2. The expenses
Sade thought her biggest financial hurdle would be the wedding. Oh, how naive. The wedding was just the beginning. She and her husband had taken a small loan to pull off their “big day.” Her mother had insisted they couldn’t embarrass the family with a quiet ceremony. After all, “What will people say?”
They barely cleared the debt when real-life bills came knocking. Rent in Lekki (because Mushin wasn’t an option), generator fuel, endless aso ebi purchases for other people’s weddings. And then, the grand champion—school fees! By the time baby number two arrived, nights turned into fights over whether they could afford to share a stick of suya.
Marriage, Sade discovered, isn’t about sweet talks and love languages. It’s about balancing spreadsheets. Sadly, the economy ensures the spreadsheets never balance.
3. The expectations
In Nigeria, your marriage is a community project. As soon as you indicate readiness to marry, everyone from your pastor to your hairdresser suddenly feels entitled to an opinion. Get ready for free plenty prophesies, visions and fake concerns.
Sade didn’t want kids immediately after her wedding. But her in-laws didn’t agree. “Your biological clock is ticking,” her mother-in-law would say on every phone call. Then she peppered the conversation with unsolicited fertility advice. “Drink a drum Agbo from Mama Ijebu. It worked for my cousin!”
By year two, when no pregnancy came, the women’s fellowship in Sade’s church dedicated prayer seessions for her deliverance. They “decreed and declared” for her in fruit of the womb, as if they produce babies under Idumota bridge.
When her husband got a promotion, Sade found herself dragged to every office party. The world expected her to smile endlessly and act like a trophy wife. Her own demanding schedules didn’t matter. “Marriage in Nigeria,” she sighed, “is basically customer service with no off days.”
4. The restrictions, when you are married
Before marriage, Sade was the queen of spontaneity. She could pack a bag and hit the road to Abuja for a weekend of fun. But once married, every decision became a joint venture.
“Babe, can I travel to Port Harcourt to see my mum?”
“No o, I already promised my mum we’ll visit her this weekend.”
Her weekends were no longer hers. They were filled with owambes, in-law visits, church programmes and endless family meetings. Alone time? Forget it. You now share everything—space, schedules, even your wifi account. “Marriage,” Sade quipped, “is like an unending group project.”
5. The tension
Let’s talk about fights. Before marriage, Sade thought arguments in relationships would be epic, Nollywood-style drama. After marriage, she realized the reality was far pettier.
One day, Sade snapped because her husband kept leaving wet towels on the bed. Another day, he accused her of finishing the last piece of fried meat in the pot. The little things, the ones you ignored when you were dating, suddenly became weapons of mass destruction.
“Marriage,” she declared, “is two people constantly trying not to kill each other over toothpaste.”
6. The stress
Marriage isn’t a destination; it’s a daily grind. Sade spent so much time worrying about whether she was being a good wife. She kept cooking, supporting, organizing—that she forgot to breathe. Meanwhile, her husband was also stressed but too busy “being a man” to talk about it.
It’s exhausting, especially when kids come into the mix. Sade once told me, “I went to bed one day and realized I didn’t even know myself anymore. I’m just a wife, a mother, and a housekeeper. The Sade I knew was gone!”
The takeaway
Marriage is not the solution to loneliness, pressure from your church, or that smug auntie who keeps asking, “When are we eating rice?” It’s not about the Instagram aesthetics of matching Ankara or his-and-hers vacation photos in Dubai.
It’s real life—messy, expensive, and stressful. If you’re not ready for the reality of combining finances, tolerating quirks, and managing family drama, stay off. And stay alive!
But if you must marry, do it with your eyes—and wallet—wide open. Love won’t pay NEPA (electricity) bill. It won’t stop your partner from using your favourite mug for soaking garri, either.
So, if you’re not yet married, don’t. Unless you’re ready to trade your freedom, peace, and some sanity for a lifetime of compromise and random wet towels on the bed. Because marriage is less about “forever and always.” It can’t survive “how dare you?” or “ who do you think you are”? Marriage is more about “please do” or “please don’t”!
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