Dear NHW,

Please help me out of this dilemma O!

I’m presently dating a 30 year old journalist whom I met a little over a year ago. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to me that he had fully moved in with me. Because it started gradually with weekends only, then few times in a week, then practically everyday he would sleep over.

Time to pay the rent suddenly opened my eyes to the harsh reality that he’s been living with me for a year now. So I nicely asked if he could help with paying more than half of the rent, not even all, but the answer I got from him was not satisfactory. He simply said I was insulting him and that did I realise that he could afford to pay the whole rent. Me in my stupidity, I’ve been waiting for 2 weeks now for him to give the rent money, but I meet voice mail!

Ever since, he has been eating and sleeping comfortably, without mentioning the rent money. I’m feel somehow bringing up the issue because I’m not used to asking men for money.

Please, what do you advise I do?

Dear Writer,

I’m sorry to say this but you are not being smart about this. If you don’t bring up the issue about the rent, this boyfriend of yours will forever take you for granted! Insist on him contributing at least half of the rent na!

I bet he doesn’t even give you money for feeding him?! Have you even seen his own place, that is if he has a place of his? See how he craftily moved in, probably deceiving you with his charms! You better wake up my dear. Things you cannot tolerate in courtship, you will definitely hate in marriage, because it only gets worse.

No need to be confrontational, just address the issue before anything else is talked about. Shikena!


Photo credit: Black Christian News

I hear what a lot of my married friends say about their mother in laws, and so I’m always on the watch out for ‘troublesome’ ones.

My prayer has always been to never have a mother in law that is a witch in disguise. I was so sure I could tell the type I would have from the way her son behaved.

There is this guy I met during my registration for NYSC and we kinda clicked. You know the regular ‘Tall, Dark and Handsome’ kind of guy. He was totally well spoken, taste in fashion, top notch. Hmmm… Anyway, we had a lot of things in common, same taste in movies, books, food…maybe not friends but most importantly, we got along.

We could have made a nice couple but…there’s usually a ‘but’ when you meet a guy that is too good to be real! His mother was the big BUT in extending our relationship…all too controlling. We never get past a complete sentence and she’s buzzing his phone asking about ridiculous things like “Where are you?”, “When are you coming home?”, “What do you want to eat?”, “Who are you with?”, “Should I come and pick you?”….Like seriously?!

“Ehm, Timi, how old are you again?!” I just had to ask.

“Why?”, he enquired.

“Your mom is always on your case!” I retorted. She should freaking give you a break!

“Oh, she’s just being a mom. She means no harm. You’ll get used to her, trust me”, he ended the matter.

Heeeellll No! I’m definitely not dealing!

Can you imagine? We had barely finished that conversation when Timi got a message from a waiter where we were hanging out, that his mom was waiting for him outside!

Now that’s some baggage I don’t intend to carry with me into my matrimonial home.


The Search for Healing

Eight months later I found myself standing in a crowded court room. I had been told that going through the legal process would feel like being raped a second time, but actually it was worse. Even after sharing every intimate detail of the rape, Jack was still found not guilty—insufficient evidence. Case closed.

After that I fell into a deep depression. The college I attended said Jack would be allowed to register for classes. Innocent until proven guilty.

In the months that followed, Jack stalked me. He followed me to my classes, to the cafeteria, to my dorm. The helplessness I had felt during the rape was now multiplying, as I felt more and more helpless on campus.

Finally I reached a breaking point and started contemplating suicide. Around that time I attended a chapel service on campus.

A man named Stephen Arterburn was scheduled to speak. I expected him to talk about some recent missions trip or share his published study on a biblical text. Instead, this man—the founder of New Life Clinics, treatment centers for Christians struggling with depression, suicide, and abuse—spoke on the reality of pain.

Stephen’s words caught my attention. He said that even though everything might look OK on the outside, he knew some of us were thinking about suicide. Then he said something I’ll never forget: “There’s no shame in doing everything it takes to choose life.”

I realized that a trip to one of his clinics was exactly what I needed. But the clinic was expensive; my parents’ insurance wouldn’t cover the costs and they didn’t know what to do. However, one of my mom’s friends—a counselor—told my parents I’d had an “emotional heart attack.” She explained that when someone has a heart attack, you don’t wonder what to do; you get her to the emergency room in time to save her life. That put the money issue into perspective for my parents; three days later I checked into a New Life Clinic.

During the first week I sat in the hall and stared at the floor. On the outside I looked emotionless, but on the inside I was screaming with rage. Rage that demanded to know why I was the one in a psychiatric ward instead of the man who’d raped me. Rage that wanted to have my life back. But instead of the rage coming out, it all just brewed inside me—until Mark approached me.

I’ll never forget his face. It glowed with a certain peace. He was a fellow patient getting ready to go home in a week. Mark walked up to me, introduced himself, and said, “Me Ra, the longer you deny your pain, the longer it will rule your life. Look around you. All the other patients here are twice your age. Why? It’s because we did what you’re doing now for most our lives. We ignored our pain and stuffed it down. But one day it exploded, and that’s why we’re here. Do you see how much you have to gain if you invest yourself into your time at this clinic?” His words burned into me.

That night I couldn’t go to sleep. As I thought about what Mark had said, I let my pain and anger surface. Tears finally came, followed by sleep.

For the next few weeks, I went through 8 to 12 hours of therapy a day—sometimes in group sessions, sometimes individually. It was really hard—hard to face my fears, hard to let all my emotions out. But through the process God brought a lot of healing.


Jack seemed like a great guy at first. He’d send me flowers and shower me with affection. But then he began to change.

I first met Jack* at a BBQ dinner during my college’s Freshman Orientation. He was cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. He seemed like such a fun guy. He was also a Christian—the perfect package.

Within a month we were dating. I was flattered that Jack wanted to pursue me and excited about the way he showered me with affection. He would send me flowers. He’d also buy me cards and write Scripture mixed with professions of his love for me. I wanted to believe he was really sincere. So I blinded myself to how he was slowly changing.

When we first started dating he loved everything about me—the way I dressed, my laugh, my relationship with God, the way I interacted with my girlfriends. But it wasn’t long before he started to pick on small things. One day he decided he didn’t like my roommate. So I distanced myself from her. One night he didn’t like the outfit I was wearing—so I changed. Another night he claimed I was wearing too much make-up. So I went to the bathroom and washed it off.

We’d go out to eat and Jack would smile at other girls. If I confronted him about it, he blew me off. Not only that, he would tell me what he liked about them, and how I lacked in comparison.

I remember one incident in particular. We were in a restaurant waiting to be seated. A woman was sitting at a table nearby with her legs crossed. Jack commented on how long her legs were, then he looked at mine and didn’t say a word. But the point was clear. My legs didn’t measure up. How could he say my legs weren’t good enough? How could I change them? At that point I realized I couldn’t take it anymore. I had tried to change everything about myself to please him, and now with something I couldn’t change, insecurity overwhelmed me.

After five long months, I decided to end our relationship. Jack was angry over my decision. He felt God had told him we were to be married. I wanted to go to my girlfriends for support, but I had given them up months ago to please Jack. I suddenly felt very alone.

A few weeks later Jack called and invited me out for dinner—as friends, he said. Our time in the restaurant was awful. He was loud and obnoxious to the waiters and to me. When he asked to drive me back to my dorm after dinner, I didn’t object. I was more than ready for the evening to end. Unfortunately he didn’t intend to drive me home. He took me to a deserted parking lot and raped me.

I remember very few things about the actual rape—the car windshield covered with fog, the struggle, and the moment I felt too overpowered to resist any longer. In that instant I realized there was nothing I could do to stop what was happening. He was simply too strong.

When it was over, Jack took me back to my dorm, told me he would give me a call, and simply left. I was in shock. All I remember about those following hours is standing in the shower with all my clothes on, sobbing uncontrollably, desperately wanting the water to wash away the evening’s events.

(To Be Continued)

Culled from Christianity Today

Image Credit: Real Think Tank


Photo credit: Animation Plaza

Some girls are trying sha!

I’m not sure if they are simply confused or plain greedy! These girls claim they have only one boyfriend but yet, just make a mistake and check their text messages, all sorts of messages come up from all sorts of ‘animals’ and ‘birds’…”My sweetest darling”, “Babe, but you know I love you”, “Dear, how can we hook up?”…all sorts. Sometimes, they can’t even remember who sent the message sef.

Imagine a clean guy taking out time to go see his supposed chic, and they are hanging out in the car, just generally chilling. They haven’t even spent 5 minutes, his babe gets a call, she gets up forming ‘no network’ and she comes back a few minutes later. She has barely gotten into the car, and then she gets another call, then she goes off saying, “Aagh, it’s not like that…”. You the guy, can swear that there is network! She is still on the phone when another call comes in, she puts that one on hold…and it continues that way for as long as your ‘m-u-m-u’ boyfriend can wait.

What I am trying to say is this, my girl, you cannot  can never marry!…it’s not a cause O! I am yet to see a man that can tolerate his babe receiving this many calls from other men. One thing you all need to know is that, even if you lie and say that “It is my aunt, It is my sheep, It is my goat”…most guys can tell when a chic is talking to a guy. Even if you want to argue it out, then why do you keep leaving the area, claiming that the network is poor, even with the full bars?!

You all had better stop deceiving yourselves. One thing is sure, real guys won’t argue, they either mentally give you another chance, investigate if there are doubts or virtually ‘X’ you out!

And where does that leave you again?…Sooo Alone and in your father’s house! *Sorry*