I remember one evening staring at my mother’s hands as she stirred a pot of tea. Her fingers, delicate and always busy, had no ring on them. Not even a mark to suggest one had ever been there. I had seen her traditional wedding certificate in an old envelope tucked in her handbag—faded ink, a slightly torn corner, and that official government stamp. But no wedding ring? My sixteen-year-old mind couldn’t compute the math. So, one day, I asked in the most innocent way, “Mummy, where’s your wedding ring?” She paused, looked at me like I had asked her why the sun sets, and smiled with a response that still makes me chuckle.

“Mummy, how did you meet Dad?” I continued, pushing my curiosity past bedtime. “Why aren’t you wearing a ring on your finger?” 

But I wasn’t just asking for the sake of curiosity.
I expected a romantic story.
The movie version of How I Met Your Mother—but from the mum’s point of view.
Something dreamy. Something with butterflies and stammered hello’s in the rain.

Instead, the naughty—well, notorious—funny woman I call Mum dropped one of her signature bombshells (yes, her word choices are national treasure-level unpredictable).

“Oh Cynthia,” she said with a giggle, her eyes now dancing with nostalgia, “we used the window to get to love, not the door.”

That line has stayed with me. Window to love? What did that even mean? It sounded like something from an old African folktale or a metaphor in a Nigerian movie.

My Dream Was a Church Wedding

Unlike my mum’s window-to-love narrative, I was obsessed with grand weddings—especially church weddings, or as they are formally known as statutory marriages. Watching The Wedding Show every Sunday was like a spiritual experience. From the flowers to the vows, the bridesmaids, the cake, and that slow walk down the aisle—I was hooked. I imagined my own wedding with tear-jerking vows, and maybe, if God was in a good mood, a saxophone version of “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran playing in the background.

But I often found myself wondering—why doesn’t everyone go the grand church wedding way? Why don’t more people choose to walk through the door of love instead of crawling in through the window like Mum and Dad?

Type of Marriage vs. Depth of Commitment

That question always takes me back to this:
Is it the type of marriage you choose, or the depth of commitment in your hearts?

Because let’s be honest. Some people have ten million-shilling weddings but can’t survive ten weeks in that marriage. Others do it quietly, privately, and still hold each other tenderly forty years later.

Debunking the Common Law Myth

I used to believe that couples who chose common law marriage—where two people live together and present themselves as married—did so because they lacked the money for a church wedding. But lately, I’ve seen couples invest heavily in traditional or customary weddings. Elaborate ceremonies, imported lace, limousines, goats, tents, traditional singers—everything short of fireworks.

So clearly, it’s not always about the money. Something deeper is at play.

Cultural Preference or Emotional Convenience?

For some, traditional or common law unions are about staying connected to cultural identity. They feel warm, communal, familiar. Others say they prefer the freedom and flexibility—no paperwork, no court follow-ups, no change of name. But there’s also the silent risk: no legal fallback, especially if things go south.

On the other hand, statutory marriages—performed in church or at the Attorney General’s office—offer more legal clarity. The commitment is registered, stamped, and often easier to navigate if disputes arise. Yet some say it feels too formal or boxed in.

Two Paths, One Destination?

I’ve had the privilege of attending both kinds of weddings.
Church weddings with powerful vows that echo off stained glass walls.
And common law unions that people jokingly call “come-we-risk”. 

The real reason I asked my mum how she met Dad wasn’t just to poke holes in her missing ring story. I wanted to know the path—the rhythm and rules of their love story. Was it love at first sight? A slow-burning connection? Or something more intentional?

Love Isn’t Always Enough

With time, I’ve learned that love—as sweet and poetic as it sounds—is sometimes a hollow shell. It lives in music, dances in movies, floats in DMs, and even shows up in extramarital affairs. It’s no longer sacred. People who don’t love themselves say “I love you” to others. So maybe we should retire the word love—or at least treat it with more seriousness.

What matters more, I believe, is intentionality. Choosing a partner mindfully. Then adding daily devotion, sacrifice, and grit—the ingredients that carry a union after the honeymoon phase of love has faded into normal life.

What Is Your Elixir for a Solid Union?

Whether you climb in through the window like my mum or walk through the golden double doors of a cathedral...

What’s your secret to staying grounded when the flowers have wilted and the aisle is just a memory?