The first time my wife initiated sex, I thought I had married a wayward wife.

Don’t blame me. I was born in a stone-age era.

I had always believed that it was the duty of a man to demand intimacy from his wife. I grew up believing that women didn’t really care much about sex, and that a decent woman should never be too expressive about what she wanted in the bedroom.

But the day I married my wife, everything I thought I knew about women began to change.

The first time she told me where and how to touch her, and confidently took the lead in our little game, I had goosebumps.

I was looking at her, wondering if this woman was truly the innocent wife I thought I had married.

In my mind, I was asking myself, “Are you sure this lady is an original virgin, or is it akuru Aku?”

Please, don’t judge me. I was still operating with an outdated version of myself.

After our beautiful morning together, my wife went to the kitchen and prepared a delicious meal for me to take to work.

She packed everything neatly into my lunchbox, kissed me goodbye, and sent me off to work.

What I didn’t know was that she had tucked a little note inside my lunchbox.

I had no idea what was written on it until I finished eating.

As I tried to put the food flask back into my bag, I noticed the folded paper. I brought it out, opened it, and began to read.

The first line alone made me feel as though someone had poured cold water on my head.

My wife had written something sweet, romantic, and coded about how much she had enjoyed our morning together.

It read,

My darling husband, 

This morning, you reminded me that my favourite place in the world is in your arms. I’m still smiling, still blushing, and already longing for you again. You are my sweetest weakness, my answered prayer, and my forever love. 

I immediately started looking around.

My heart began beating fast.

“What if somebody saw this paper?”

“What if someone mistakenly read it?”

“How would they look at me afterward?”

Me, the person everybody considered a holy brother!

I was so embarrassed that embarrassment turned into anger.

This was my workplace, for goodness’ sake! I didn’t condone such rubbish.

If we were at home, perhaps I would have laughed about it. But bringing such a message into my workplace? That was where I drew the line.

I folded the paper, hid it somewhere safe in my bag, and spent the rest of the day boiling inside.

The funny thing was that I couldn’t even properly explain what had offended me.

But I had already decided that I would give my wife a serious warning when I got home.

This her koromoto life must stop.

When I arrived home, my wife came out smiling and began greeting me.

Normally, I would have pulled her close and hugged her.

But that evening, I didn’t even allow her to finish her greeting.

I quickly brought out the paper from where I had hidden it and flashed it before her.

“What is the meaning of this rubbish that you wrote?”

She looked at me, confused.

I didn’t give her time to speak.

“Has your wayward life now made you lose your sense of judgment? How can you write me such an erotic message and tuck it inside my lunchbox?”

“What if someone else had read it? What would they think of me?”

“Do you want people to start thinking that I am a wayward man? Me, who everybody considers a holy brother?”

My wife stared at me.

The only words she managed to say were:

“But we’re married.”

“Because we’re married, does that mean you should lose your sense of judgment? Can’t you read the room? Let this nonsense stop!”

I snapped at her and walked away.

That evening, I felt satisfied with myself.

I believed I had corrected my wife.

I believed I had made my position clear.

I didn’t know I had just wounded something beautiful in my marriage.

Because from that day, the atmosphere in our home changed.

And it changed in a way I never expected.

My wife was the kind of woman who would call me while I was at work just to check if I had arrived safely.

She would say sweet things to me, things that made me smile like a little boy.

Sometimes, I would lower the volume of my phone because I didn’t want anybody nearby to hear her and start wondering what kind of romantic conversation I was having.

She would tell me how much she loved me, how handsome I was, and how she was praying for me.

But after that incident, she stopped calling.

Completely.

The first day I went to work without receiving her call, I thought she was probably busy.

I waited until afternoon.

Nothing.

I waited until evening.

Still nothing.

By the second day, I found myself checking my phone more often than I wanted to admit.

I would glance at the screen, hoping to see her name.

But my wife didn’t call.

The woman who used to make me feel so loved had suddenly become quiet.

And I began to realize how much I had depended on those little things without ever appreciating them properly.

She also stopped initiating intimacy.

Now, let me tell you something about me.

I was a shy man.

Even though I was her husband, there were times when I wanted my wife to make the first move because I enjoyed the way she expressed her love.

Deep down, I knew she loved intimacy with me, and I had secretly become comfortable with her taking the initiative.

But this time, she didn’t.

For one week, she went about her activities as though nothing had happened.

I told myself, “She can survive one week. No problem.”

Then one week became two.

Our home became strangely quiet.

We still ate together.

We still slept on the same bed.

We still asked each other how our day went.

But something was missing.

We began to feel like roommates who happened to share a marriage certificate.

I missed my wife.

Not just her body.

I missed her laughter.

I missed her sweet words.

I missed the way she would look at me as though I was the only man in the world.

I missed the woman who used to make our home feel like home.

After three weeks, I finally reached out for intimacy.

Please, don’t blame me. At that point, I was already struggling with my own stubbornness.

I thought she might reject me.

But she didn’t.

She simply lay there without the warmth and enthusiasm I had always known from her.

There was no laughter.

No playful teasing.

No tenderness from her side.

And for the first time, I understood that intimacy wasn’t just about the physical act.

It was about connection.

That moment felt empty.

When we were done, she quietly got up and went straight to the bathroom.

No “Thank you, my sugar rush.”

No “You’re so sweet, my darling husband.”

No “I prayed for you today. May God keep us in good health and sound mind. May we ride this boat together forever.”

She said nothing.

And I realized how much those words had meant to me.

I used to wonder how my wife could pray for me after something I considered so unholy.

But when she stopped, I understood something.

My wife had been bringing warmth, friendship, affection, and intentionality into our marriage.

She wasn’t just enjoying intimacy with me.

She was investing in our relationship.

And I had been taking it for granted.

If I continued behaving the way I was behaving, I could lose the very thing I claimed to love.

I began to miss my original home.

The home where my wife would laugh freely.

The home where she could express herself without worrying that her husband would shame her.

I knew I had messed up.

The problem was that I didn’t know how to clean up the mess I had created.

But one evening, I sat on our bed and began to think deeply.

I asked myself a question.

“Why am I behaving like this?”

Why was I treating my wife as though she had done something wrong by expressing love to her own husband?

Why had I made her feel ashamed of something that should have been a private, mutual, and loving part of our marriage?

And suddenly, I realized the truth.

I wasn’t protecting my marriage.

I was allowing an outdated mindset to damage it.

I had been raised to believe that a woman who openly expressed her desire for her husband was somehow less respectable.

But my wife had never given me any reason to doubt her character.

She was my wife.

She loved me.

She trusted me enough to express herself.

And instead of appreciating that trust, I had embarrassed her.

That night, I decided I was going to apologize.

Not the kind of apology where a man says, “Sorry, but you should have known better.”

No.

I wanted to apologize without defending my foolishness.

The following evening, when I got home, I found my wife in the sitting room.

She was scrolling through her phone.

I walked toward her and sat beside her.

“My love.”

She looked up.

“Yes?”

“Can we talk?”

She nodded and put her phone down.

I took a deep breath.

“I want to apologize to you.”

She remained quiet.

I continued.

“What I did the other day was wrong. The way I spoke to you, the way I called your beautiful message rubbish, and the way I made you feel ashamed of expressing love to me… I am genuinely sorry.”

She looked at me, but I could tell she wasn’t expecting that conversation.

“I have been thinking about everything, and I realized that I have been operating with an outdated mindset.”

“I was raised to believe that a man must always be the one to initiate intimacy, and that a woman who openly expresses her desires is somehow wayward.”

“But I was wrong.”

I reached for her hand.

“My wife, you are not wayward because you love your husband. You are not wayward because you want to enjoy intimacy with the man you married. You are not wayward because you wrote me a sweet message.”

“You were simply expressing love.”

“And instead of making you feel safe enough to express yourself, I made you feel ashamed.”

She looked down at her hands.

I continued.

“I was an old-school man, my love. I carried certain beliefs into this marriage without questioning whether they were right.”

“But marriage has taught me that I cannot continue doing things simply because that is how I was raised.”

“I have to learn you. I have to understand you. And I have to make room for the way you express love.”

I paused for a moment.

“Do you know something? I should actually count myself lucky to have a wife who feels comfortable expressing love to me.”

“Instead of shaming you, I should have appreciated the trust and closeness between us.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I truly am.”

My wife stared at me for a few seconds.

Then she smiled a little.

“So you have finally realized that you married a human being and not a statue?”

I burst out laughing.

“Ah! See this woman!”

She laughed too, and the heaviness in the room began to disappear.

I pulled her closer.

“Please, my love, start calling me again.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Calling you?”

“Yes. I miss your calls. I miss the way you used to talk to me while I was at work. I miss those sweet messages you used to send me.”

She folded her arms.

“No oh. I want to start reading the room and not be wayward.”

I immediately held my chest.

“Ah! My wife has started again!”

We both laughed.

But I wasn’t going to let her joke distract me from what I needed to say.

“I’m serious, my love. I miss those things. I miss you being yourself with me.”

She looked at me, and her smile softened.

“I miss you too.”

I held her hand more tightly.

“And please, don’t leave everything concerning our love life to me alone.”

She laughed.

“Eh?”

“I’m serious. I want you to continue expressing yourself. Tell me what you like. Initiate intimacy when you want to. Don’t feel that you have to sit back and wait for me every single time.”

“I was a big shamble in this matter, and I know it.”

She laughed so hard that she had to cover her mouth.

“See you!”

“Yes, see me! I am confessing my sins.”

She shook her head, still smiling.

“And I promise you that I will also put in more effort. I will learn to be romantic. I will learn how to communicate my love properly.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you are carrying this marriage alone.”

My wife became quiet for a moment.

Then she nodded.

“Okay, my husband.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

I pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you.”

She rested her head on my chest.

And that evening, I knew we had taken the first step toward finding our way back to each other.

But my wife didn’t immediately return to the way things used to be.

I understood.

An apology is important, but rebuilding trust requires consistency.

So I didn’t pressure her.

I didn’t complain that she wasn’t being romantic enough.

I simply began to show her, through my actions, that I meant what I had said.

I started calling her during the day.

I started sending her sweet messages.

I began complimenting her, not just when she dressed up, but when she did the little things that made our home beautiful.

I would tell her, “My love, thank you for everything you do.”

I would send her messages that made her smile.

And whenever she expressed affection, I received it with appreciation instead of embarrassment.

I was learning.

And she was slowly opening her heart again.

Then came the day I had been waiting for.

One month, four days, and sixty minutes later.

Don’t blame me. I actually counted the days.

When my wife finally initiated intimacy again, it felt different.

Not because of anything extraordinary.

But because this time, I understood what it meant.

It was not something shameful.

It was not something that made her less decent.

It was one of the ways we expressed love, closeness, and affection as husband and wife.

We shared a beautiful, tender moment that I will never forget in a hurry.

And afterward, I held her close.

I kissed her forehead and whispered, “Thank you for coming back to me, my love.”

She laughed.

“Coming back to you? I have been here since.”

I laughed too.

“Abeg, let me enjoy my testimony.”

She shook her head.

But I knew something had changed.

Not just between us physically, but in the way we understood each other.

From that day, I became more intentional about our love life.

I started writing love messages.

I started complimenting my wife the same way she had always complimented me.

I started paying attention to the things that made her happy.

And I began to understand that love is not just about receiving what your partner gives you.

It is also about learning how to give love in a way that makes your partner feel seen, appreciated, and safe.

I realized that your partner may show you their love language through the way they treat you.

My wife had been intentional from the beginning.

She called me.

She prayed for me.

She expressed her affection.

She found ways to make me feel loved.

And instead of learning from her, I had initially tried to silence her.

But God used that experience to humble me.

I learned that marriage requires two people who are willing to grow.

Two people who are willing to listen.

Two people who can admit when they are wrong and choose to do better.

My marriage began to blossom again because I listened to God, humbled myself, and chose to apologize, adapt, and change.

And today, whenever I remember the day I called my wife a koromoto wife, I laugh at myself.

Because the truth is, I wasn’t married to a wayward woman.

I was married to a woman who loved me deeply and felt safe enough to express that love.

And I almost allowed my old-fashioned thinking to rob me of something beautiful.

Thank God I learned before it was too late.

MORAL 1:

A woman who initiates intimacy with her husband is not automatically wayward or indecent. Marriage should be a safe place where both partners can express love, communicate their desires, and enjoy closeness without shame. Don’t allow outdated beliefs to make your spouse feel guilty for loving you.

MORAL 2:

Marriage requires humility, intentionality, and a willingness to change. Sometimes, the person who is keeping your home together is the very person you are taking for granted. Learn to recognize your partner’s efforts, apologize when you are wrong, and choose to nurture the love you both share.