FEATURE: When Love Hurts: The Silent Struggles of Nigerian Men in Toxic Relationships

 By Victor Olubiye 

In Nigeria, men are raised to be strong. From a young age, boys are told to “man up,” to swallow pain like bitter medicine and keep walking. They are taught to provide, to protect, and to endure — but rarely to speak about heartbreak. Yet, beneath the stoic expressions and confident strides, there is a quiet epidemic of emotional wounds inflicted by those they love most.

For many Nigerian men, romantic relationships are not just a matter of companionship — they are investments of trust, pride, and vulnerability. When such trust is betrayed, the emotional blow can be devastating.

Take the story of Tunde, a 34-year-old banker in Lagos. He met his girlfriend during his NYSC year, lavishing her with attention, financial support, and his deepest confidences. “I thought she was the one,” he says. “I opened up to her about things I never told anyone. She made me believe she valued that, until I found out she was mocking me to her friends.”

For Tunde, the betrayal was not in her leaving him, but in how she dismantled his dignity piece by piece — with cutting remarks, emotional withdrawal, and public disrespect.

In Nigerian society, emotional abuse against men is often downplayed or dismissed outright. When a man complains about being hurt by a woman, the reaction is usually a smirk, a joke, or a dismissive “Na woman matter.” This culture of minimising men’s pain leaves many to suffer in silence.

Dr. Chika Nwankwo, a clinical psychologist based in Abuja, explains: “Emotional harm doesn’t always come with visible scars. It can be manipulation, constant belittling, withdrawal of affection, or using love as a bargaining chip. Men experience these things, but they’re conditioned to ignore the damage until it affects their mental health.”

Unlike physical abuse, emotional harm is insidious. Men in toxic relationships report feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, and a loss of self-worth. Some turn to alcohol or workaholism to cope. Others, in extreme cases, withdraw completely from romantic relationships, fearing further damage.

“I once dated a woman who would go cold for days if I didn’t meet her financial demands,” recalls “Emeka,” a 29-year-old in Port Harcourt. “She would threaten to leave me and compare me to other men. It made me feel like I was never enough. I stayed because I loved her, but I lost myself in the process.”

Advocates argue that for change to occur, Nigerian society must acknowledge that emotional abuse against men is real — and unacceptable. This requires public education, mental health advocacy, and dismantling the cultural stigma around male vulnerability.

Support groups for men are slowly emerging, particularly on social media, where anonymous platforms allow men to share their stories without fear of ridicule. Relationship counsellors urge men to set healthy boundaries and to recognise the signs of manipulation early.

While love can be a source of joy and growth, it can also be a weapon when misused. For Nigerian men trapped in cycles of emotional harm, the journey to healing begins with acknowledging the wound.

As Tunde puts it: “I’m not ashamed to say she broke me. But I’m rebuilding. This time, I’ll love with my eyes open.”