When I met my wife, my salary was N33,000 monthly. That was what I earned as an entry-level hire then. Yes, I agree that N33,000 at that time had more value than the same amount does now. 

However, to put things in proper perspective, a SIM card around the time when I got married in 2002 was about N20,000. My salary was therefore just a bit more than the cost of a SIM card. I recall that banks actually gave loans to customers to buy ‘handsets’ then. 

My wife was in her final year at Olabisi Onabanjo University when we decided to get married. I was 27 and she was 25. I’d been working for barely two years. I didn’t have a car when we started dating, but later I was able to ‘buy’ a Volvo 340 DL through a miraculous intervention. The dealer gave me the car, and I paid in two instalments, with the first instalment deferred until six months after I got the car. 

I remember how my fiancee (now my wife) and her friend hitched a ride back to Ibadan from Ago-Iwoye the first time I drove the car to Olabisi Onabanjo University. I fell asleep at the wheel, veered off the road, and nearly drove off a cliff. My fiancee and her friend were also fast asleep!

I had just moved away from my parents’ home to a two-bedroom flat I rented at Ashi in Ibadan. My rent was N27,000 per annum, and the flat was part of eight flats within the compound, similar to a civilian barrack. That was the best I could afford then. 

When I met my wife, my salary was just a bit more than the cost of a SIM card. But she saw beyond what I had to who I was becoming. Share on X

We stayed in that N27,000 per annum flat for a long time. We jointly agreed that we should not stay in a house where we couldn’t afford to pay the yearly rent from a month’s salary or income. 

From there, we moved to a three-bedroom bungalow that was N50,000 per annum and later increased to N100,000 per annum. We agreed not to buy things on credit. If we can’t pay cash for it, it means we can’t afford it. 

When my fiancée (now my wife) first visited me in that two-bedroom flat, all I had was a 14-inch Sharp television that I had bought during my university days. I owned that Sharp television for many years, even after we married, and only gave it away a few years ago.

But my wife saw beyond that television. I had no furniture in my sitting room during her first visit. My sitting room was overlaid with a beautiful wine rug, and any visitor had to sit with me on the rug as we watched my 14-inch TV delicately placed on a ‘stool’. 

A short while after, I was part of a four-man 10k per month ‘esusu’ contribution team, and I used my 40k ‘esusu’ contribution to purchase my first piece of furniture—a black leather couch. I cherished the furniture so much that I never sat on it. Only my fiancee (wife) was allowed to sit or lay on it. I remember I bought that furniture from a showroom opposite Group Medical at Mokola, Ibadan. 

As we planned for the wedding, a few of my friends were scared for me. They felt it was too early and I didn’t have ‘anything’. My wife was writing her dissertation. I couldn’t afford a ready-made suit for the wedding. 

I went to Ekotedo, where a tailor who was introduced to me sewed my suit and that of my best man, Kola Fabeku. I bought the striped material from Mandillas in Lagos. My wife’s wedding gown was sewn by a young male fashion designer around Agbowo.

I couldn’t afford a new leather box to carry my wife’s items during the ‘engagement’ ceremony, so I borrowed from Titilayo Tijani, who got married a few months before us. My wife magnanimously put some old clothes in the box. I couldn’t afford the list given to me on a 33k salary.

On the engagement day, I locked up the box with a padlock and put the key in my pocket. During the ceremony, they wanted to open it so as to look at the clothes I bought for my wife, but I joined them in looking for the key. After the ceremony, I took back half of the tubers of yam I bought and a bag of salt. Our new family needed the food more than them. 

We got married, and my wife would later go for her National Youth Service. I knew she couldn’t be idle, so I saved up some money to open a video club for her. That video club called Colours was very popular at Ashi. My wife also did event planning and decorations. 

I accompanied her some weekends to decorate events while I emceed a few. My Volvo 340DL carried potted plants, balloons, tyre rims and other decor items. We kept those items in our spare room. I converted the car to a cab in the evening, when I plied Sango-Apete axis in Ibadan 

When I closed from work, I removed my jacket and tie, put on a fez cap and resumed as a cab driver. We needed the money. Some weekends, I turned it into a charter cab and plied long-distance trips. Those were the days when the songs of Gbenga Adenuga were popular.

My wife knew that money alone does not a good marriage make. She saw beyond the present and looked far into the future. I was a dreamer, and I still am. I told her about my goals. So she saw beyond my 14-inch television and saw my vision.

Never marry a man who has television but has no vision. She knew that if you marry a man whose main obsession is the things he possesses, then get ready to become part of the possessions. A woman should be more concerned about a man’s prospects than his pockets. If he has prospects, he is perfect for you.

Marry someone who values you more than his valuables. A chest full of treasures does not mean a woman will be treasured. Share on X

Never define a marriage by the size of a man’s pocket but by the largeness of his heart. If he’s good, the lack of money will never diminish his goodness. If he’s bad, the presence of money will never amplify his goodness.

A man can be poor in terms of quantifiable treasure but rich in character. Some people are so poor that all they have is just money. I am not trying to diminish the role of finance in romance, but that is not the principal thing. A chest full of treasures does not mean a woman will be treasured. 

You have to make a choice—either to marry a man who possesses things or marry a man who is possessed by a beautiful vision of tomorrow. If all you can see is my today, you have no stake in my future. Marry a man you believe in. Equally important, marry a man who believes in you 

Don’t marry a lazy man. Don’t marry a foolish man. A foolish man doesn’t think things through. His thinking capacity is low. He makes poor decisions about a lot of things. A foolish man is more concerned about now than tomorrow. 

Marry someone who has a greater thinking capacity than you. Be more moved by the depth of a man’s intellect than by his financial prowess. Marry a man who values you more than his valuables. But then, by all means, marry based on your convictions. 

If you desire not to settle for a man who earns less than N50,000 or some other baseline income, do so without guilt. Each person will live with the consequences of their choices. 

We have been through difficult times. My wife and I have eaten white rice sprinkled with just palm oil and salt before. We couldn’t afford to cook stew or even meat. We waited for a child for eight years. But our commitment got us going. Money is useless in certain circumstances.

Money does not guarantee a lifetime of happiness. Many rich people will willingly give up their wealth for happiness. The rich also cry. 

Don’t marry someone obsessed with things. Marry someone possessed by a dream. Share on X

Twenty-three years on, we are certainly not where we were before. I continue to dream, and she’s still in love with this dreamer. I told her recently that I look forward to a period where I will take her on a vacation for a whole year—all around the world. That’s my next dream. And it will cost more than N50,000.

(I wrote this article on November 3, 2018. It was last updated on October 10, 2025.)