“Marriage has become a battlefield where dreams die quietly and tears flow unseen. Frustration, anger, distress, disappointment, and the harrowing feeling of being used—these have become the daily companions of many men who simply wanted to love and build a home.”
When the future is uncertain, the one who owns it may wander in confusion—unsure of where to begin or why the path ahead seems so dark.
In all my years of living, the one aspect of life that continues to baffle me—despite my experiences, wisdom, and emotional resilience—is the complexity of the relationship between a man and a woman, more commonly known as marriage. It is a union that promises heaven but often delivers a daily taste of hell. The more you invest in it—emotionally, financially, physically—the higher your chances of losing everything you’ve poured into it.
Marriage has become a battlefield where dreams die quietly and tears flow unseen. Frustration, anger, distress, disappointment, and the harrowing feeling of being used—these have become the daily companions of many men who simply wanted to love and build a home.
The ones who dare to stay in marriage must be prepared—armoured not just with love, but with the grit to endure storm after storm. They must expect betrayal disguised as affection and see suffering as part of the package of being “together.”
But here lies the brutal truth—someone must be used, someone must labour in vain, and someone must be prepared to be the fall guy.
In most cases, that fall guy is the man. The provider. The protector. The one whose absence from home is not born out of neglect, but from the burning need to ensure the family eats, sleeps, and lives well.
Yet, the society doesn’t tell that part of the story.
What is more heartbreaking is how some women—either out of bitterness, selfishness, or sheer manipulation—begin to poison the minds of their children against their father. They twist the story. They make the man, who is out there sacrificing everything, look like a stranger in his own home. They call him “irresponsible” because he missed a school play—yet forget that he was out working three jobs just so the child could wear shoes to that play.
These children grow up emotionally distant, confused, and with an unjustified hatred for the man who bled to keep them alive. They see their father as a ghost, not knowing he was forced into absence by responsibility—not abandonment.
Is this what love has become? A silent war where the soldier is shot from behind by those he protects?
Every day, countless men smile through their pain, hide their tears in traffic, and return home to a family that does not appreciate them. They sit quietly at dinner tables, heartbroken by the coldness of the very family they built. And when they try to speak up, they’re told to “man up”—as if manhood means silent suffering.
Marriage, once a sacred bond, is now a risky investment where love is the currency and betrayal is the inflation. The emotional wounds it leaves behind are often deeper than physical scars. And in this cruel game, it’s always the silent ones who suffer the most in the battlefield.
Let us begin to tell the whole truth—especially to the next generation. Not all men who are absent are irresponsible. Many are silent heroes, fighting battles no one sees, carrying the world on their shoulders, and bleeding quietly in the name of love.
In all, we must live a fulfilling life and never stop doing what makes us happy.
We come into this world alone, and we will return alone—leaving all we have behind.
Goodnight to all the unforgettable heroes—the shock absorbers of the entire family. The generals who are always leading from the frontlines of every war.
•Mogaji Arisekola writes from Ibadan.
