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Is it just me, or is “He supports me in his own way” married-woman code for 'He tries, kind of, but not really in the way that I need'?
I thought I was the only one picking up on this until I read an article my mentor wrote. She summed up her marriage using that exact phrase, and suddenly, it clicked. How many of us are really married to our soulmates? Or are we all just managing by crossing our fingers, counting our blessings, and praying romance gods send backup?
Let’s be honest, for many women, if your husband doesn’t cheat, you’re basically a trophy wife. But is that really the goal? What happened to our Disney-drenched childhood dreams of Romeo-style declarations, surprise love notes, and forehead kisses under the rain?
Have we shelved our romantic cravings in the dusty pages of literature, replacing them with meal plans and daycare runs?
The truth is, I love my husband. Our home? Far from perfect. But we laugh. He’s a good father. We both contribute to the bills, and hey, that’s no small feat these days. But romance? It’s… on life support. I want the soft stuff. The spontaneous kisses. The slow dances in the kitchen. Love letters. Cheesy texts. Carry-me-like-a-baby moments. But my man isn’t budging. I’ve tried everything short of hiring a mariachi band. Nothing. So now I channel my romantic cravings into books, movies, and midnight swoons over fictional characters who know how to work a rose bouquet.
But let me tell you about my best friend, Tolani.
Her marriage? A whole different story. Her husband used to be a certified cheat back in their Lagos days. He had the money, and the women milked him dry. But post-move to Canada? The guy rebranded. Allegedly. He’s now a “retired cheat” — Tolani’s words, not mine. The problem is: he’s still emotionally AWOL. He’s home, but never present. His heart belongs to his PS5 and his Twitter football fam. The only time she gets his attention is when he’s looking for, well… sugar. And then — sleep mode activated.
She does everything. School runs, house chores, bills. And slowly, my bubbly, fun, full-of-fire friend has become… a ghost of herself. Canada can be cold — literally and emotionally. Add three kids, no village, and a partner who clocks out emotionally, and you’ve got the perfect cocktail for burnout. Therapy could help, but guess what? Therapy costs money. And free time. Neither of which she has.
She’s had all the talks. All the tears. Her mum’s advice? At least he’s not cheating anymore. Keep praying. He’ll change.
Ma’am. Respectfully — is that the standard now?
I knew Tolani was struggling, but I didn't know just how much until my phone rang at 2 AM. I thought it was a distant cousin ignoring time zones again, but nope — it was Oye. Tolani’s husband.
“Is she with you?”
She hadn’t come home.
Cue panic mode. I woke my husband. We called every friend. No sign. Her number? Dead. Socials? Silent. I was scared out of my mind. What if she’d snapped? What if… I couldn’t even say it.
By noon the next day, still no word. We filed a police report. Oye looked worried, but something felt… off. He claimed they didn’t fight. I wasn’t so sure.
Her kids were confused. Little Kanyinsola asked me where her mummy was. I blurted out, “She had to travel and see grandma.”
Lying to a child is hard. Lying when you don’t even know the truth? Brutal.
Days passed. Then weeks. And then, out of nowhere, I got a video call — no caller ID. I hesitated. Picked up.
It was Tolani.
Looking radiant. Like a woman who had just rediscovered oxygen.
“Don’t be mad,” she said before I could even scream. “I knew you’d talk me out of it. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
She found divorce papers her husband had hidden. So, she signed them. Quietly. Packed a bag. Left them where he’d find them — eventually. Then ghosted. Just like that. No kids. No tears. Just peace.
“I love my children,” she said. “But I also need to love myself. For once.”
She’s in therapy. Rebuilding. Healing. Living her best, quiet, private life. No, she hasn’t called the kids yet. But she will. She promised. And for the first time in nine years — she chose herself.
So here’s the big question:
Are we all just waiting for our partner to wake up and see us?
Or is it time we wake up and see ourselves?
Let’s talk.