07/07/2026
E2: Single until 9pm
Naya gave herself two days before opening the app again.
Chuka had annoyed her, but she refused to let one man with poor wording and misplaced confidence chase her away. Also, curiosity had started worrying her. Nine likes were still sitting there, and a small part of her wanted to know whether all nine were mad or if there was one normal person hiding among them.
After work that evening, she showered, made tea, sat on her bed, and opened the app.
The first few profiles reminded her why she had avoided dating apps in the first place.
One man had “God first” in his bio and “no feminist please” immediately after it. Another said he wanted a woman who could cook, pray, build with him, support his dreams, respect his mother, understand his silence, and not disturb him with unnecessary questions.
Naya stared at the list and laughed.
“Sir, are you looking for a wife or a domestic support department?”
Then Emmanuel appeared.
He was fine. Too fine. His pictures were clean, his smile was calm, his shirt fitted properly, and his bio had no spelling mistakes. He liked books, hiking, good food, honest conversations, and “intentional connections.”
Naya paused.
“Emmanuel,” she said to herself.
She remembered all the online jokes about Emmanuels. Emmanuel will love you in January, confuse you in February, disappear in March, and come back in June with “Hey stranger.”
She laughed and swiped left.
Maybe it was unfair. Maybe Emmanuel was a good man who paid his taxes and respected women. But Naya was still new to this dating app business, and she did not have strength to test long-standing stereotypes with her heart.
A few swipes later, she saw Tobe.
Tobe’s profile looked thoughtful. He was thirty-nine, worked in real estate, lived in Enugu, and said he was looking for “friendship that could grow into something serious.” His photos were simple. No hotel mirror pictures. No car steering wheel. No unnecessary display of wristwatch and belt. His bio sounded like he actually sat down to write it himself.
Naya liked that.
She matched with him.
Tobe messaged almost immediately.
“Hello Naya. I read your profile. Finance, humour, emotional intelligence. That is a strong combination.”
She smiled.
At least he could read. Again, the bar was low, but Nigerian dating had taught women to appreciate basic literacy.
They started talking.
Tobe was easy to talk to. He asked proper questions and replied like someone who was paying attention. He remembered things she said. If she told him she had a busy meeting, he would ask later how it went. If she said she was tired, he would not immediately turn it into a chance to flirt. He had a calm way of speaking that made him sound mature.
For a few days, Naya enjoyed it.
She did not tell Ife and China too much at first. Those two could turn a simple “we are talking” into a full relationship committee meeting. She only told them there was one man who seemed normal.
China replied first.
“Normal how?”
Ife followed immediately.
“Send profile.”
Naya ignored them.
By the end of the first week, small things started entering the conversation.
Tobe hardly called at night. If they were chatting and the time got close to 9pm, his replies slowed down. Sometimes he would say he had to sleep early. Other times, he would suddenly become “caught up.”
Weekends were worse. He always had one family obligation, one emergency site inspection, one uncle to visit, or one “long day” that made calls impossible.
Naya noticed, but she did not jump to conclusions. People had lives. She had a life too. She did not want to become suspicious of everything just because she had met careless men before.
Then one evening, they were talking about cooking, and Tobe said, “In our house, we don’t really eat late.”
Naya looked at the message.
Our house.
She waited.
He quickly sent another message.
“I mean my house…typo.”
Naya did not reply immediately.
That night, she searched his name on Facebook. She did not even search like a serious investigator. Just first name, surname, Enugu. His profile appeared quickly, but it was locked. His display picture was the same as one of his dating app pictures.
No wife. No children. No obvious evidence.
Still, something in her mind stayed awake.
The next day, she checked again with a different spelling of his name. This time, she found a public birthday post where a woman had tagged him two years earlier.
“Happy birthday to my king, my husband, the father of my children.”
Naya sat up.
There were pictures.
Tobe in matching outfits with the woman. Tobe carrying a baby. Tobe standing beside three other children. Family photos. Church photos. Birthday photos. Anniversary comments. Plenty “God bless your home” under the posts.
Naya stared at the screen for a long time.
Four children.
The youngest looked very small. Less than two, maybe.
She was not even shocked in a dramatic way. She was tired. Tired that women had to turn into detectives just to know whether a man was single. Tired that a man could write “intentional connection” with wife and children at home.
She took screenshots, kept her tea aside, and sent him a message.
“Tobe, you are married.”
He replied after almost ten minutes.
“Naya, it is complicated.”
Naya laughed once.
There it was. The national anthem of married men on dating apps.
She replied, “It does not look complicated from the pictures I saw.”
He started typing. Stopped. Started again.
“We are not really married like that. We are just living together.”
Naya blinked.
Just living together?
With four children?
She dropped the phone on the bed and laughed properly. The kind of laugh that made her cover her mouth and shake her head.
Tobe continued.
“I know how it looks, but emotionally, we have not been together for a long time. I wish I met you before her. You are the kind of woman I have always wanted.”
Naya laughed even harder.
This man had a wife, four children, and a baby that probably still scattered powder in the sitting room, but he was telling another woman they were “just living together.”
She imagined Ife hearing this and saying, “So what are the children? Compound contribution?”
She imagined China asking whether the wife knew she had been demoted to co-tenant.
Tobe called.
Naya did not answer.
He sent another message.
“Please don’t judge me. Sometimes life puts us where we don’t belong.”
Naya typed slowly.
“Then leave where you don’t belong before looking for who to drag into it.”
She blocked him.
For a while, she just sat there.
Tobe had not entered that deep so she didn’t feel negatively. What pained her was the time wasted. The talking, the laughing, the small attention she had allowed herself to enjoy. The way she had started relaxing, only to discover that the man was not even available in the first place.
She wondered how many women had heard that same story.
“We are not really married.”
“I wish I met you first.”
“I am only there because of the children.”
“My wife does not understand me.”
Naya had heard different versions from women around her. Married men always had a speech. They were never simply cheating. They were lonely, misunderstood, trapped, emotionally abandoned, spiritually disconnected, or accidentally living with a woman who had somehow given them four children.
Later that night, the app sent her a notification.
“Someone likes you.”
Naya opened it, stared at the screen, muted all notifications and dropped her phone.
She was tired of her phone announcing likes like breaking news.
Still, she did not delete the app. She made a mental note that next time, she would ask better questions earlier, check what needed checking, and trust that small voice in her head when something felt off.
Guy! The street is wild! She muttered as she sat up from the toilet seat adjusting her nighties.
To be continued…
