My GF Cheated With My Friend. It Led Me to God and Celibacy 

On the Streets is a ThePress weekly series about the chaos of modern dating: from situationships and endless talking stages,  to heartbreak and everything it means to be single in today’s world.

After years of chasing relationships and a devastating betrayal that left him battling depression, Noah* (27) decided to walk away from the life he’d always known. In this episode of On the Streets, he shares how heartbreak and a year of celibacy completely changed the way he thinks about sex and relationships. 

I’m single; I have a lot of personal work to do before I can be in a relationship. Over the past year, I’ve become much more intentional about my faith and personal growth. I don’t think I trust myself not to fall back into the same unhealthy patterns.

Growing up, I was very skinny and got bullied a lot. But when I switched secondary schools in senior class and became athletic, I suddenly started getting a lot of attention, especially from girls.

I didn’t know how to handle it. Between SS1 and SS3, I dated about eight girls. Every new relationship felt like it could be the one, but none lasted. I got exposed to sex early, and it influenced the way I approached relationships.

By the time I got to university, I had become obsessed with women and sex. Whenever someone showed interest in me, I struggled to say no.

It wasn’t because I wanted to sleep around. I genuinely believed every new connection could be my future partner, so I kept giving people chances. Before long, I’d accumulated more situationships than I can even remember.

The first relationship that truly meant something to me was with Peace*.

We met at home, through a mutual friend during the COVID lockdown. We spent a lot of time together and eventually started dating.

She was gentle and intentional about our relationship, and I really liked that. But once the lockdown ended, distance became a problem. I returned to school and rarely came home because of my strict parents, so we hardly saw each other.

Over time, I started feeling disconnected. Then, around the same time, I grew close to a coursemate named Esther*. We had amazing chemistry, and I convinced myself she might be a better fit for me.

No. I couldn’t bring myself to break up because I wanted to be sure about Esther first. Instead, I stayed with both of them and kept stringing them along.

Within a few months, Esther and I started clashing. She felt I wasn’t giving her enough attention and often argued with me over a female friend she didn’t like. Eventually, I fell out of love with her. When I ended things, I admitted I already had a girlfriend back home. 

It wasn’t an easy conversation, but we went our separate ways after that.

By then, our relationship was already hanging by a thread. We hardly saw each other, and I think we’d both checked out emotionally. In 2022, she got an opportunity to move abroad for school and ended the relationship before she left.

That breakup made me realise something about myself. I was always talking to someone, yet I still felt lonely. No matter how many people I dated, I never felt settled. This was my state of mind when I met Jane* towards the end of my NYSC  in 2023.

We were serving in the same local government, and both had issues with our clearance. While chatting, we found out we’d attended the same university and had crossed paths before.

After our clearance was sorted, we went our separate ways without exchanging numbers. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her, so I searched for her on Instagram and sent her a message. She responded, but getting her to date me was much harder than I expected. She said she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Yet I didn’t accept her “no.” I felt like it was another conquest to be won.

We talked every day until she eventually came over to my place and we hooked up. After we slept with each other a few more times, I assumed we were already together. She still didn’t want to put a label on it, though.

It took months before she finally agreed to be my girlfriend.

Looking back, I ignored a lot of red flags. I was always initiating conversations and trying to keep the relationship alive. She was inconsistent, and whenever we went out together, she’d be overly friendly with other people. I ignored it all because I liked her so much.

By then, I was completely invested. I didn’t want anyone else, so finding out she’d cheated on me felt like a stab in the chest.

She told me herself.

She said she’d hooked up with a friend after they’d had a smoke session together. She apologised and insisted it was a mistake that would never happen again.

I was devastated, but because she’d come clean on her own, I stayed.

I tried. I’d made mistakes in previous relationships, so I didn’t feel I could hold it against her forever. But the trust never came back.

After that, I became anxious whenever she was around other people. She’s much more outgoing than I am, so I’d randomly call her while she was out just to reassure myself. She hated it. We argued constantly because she felt I was becoming controlling, while I just wanted to feel secure again.

Around that time, one of my closest childhood friends died. His death shattered me. I withdrew from everyone and spent a lot of time reflecting on life. More than anything, I wanted Jane to be there for me.

I’d ask her to come over so we could spend time together, but she’d usually make excuses. Even when she did visit, she’d mostly want us to have sex. Whenever I tried to have deeper conversations, she’d avoid them. It made me feel even more alone.

Around early 2025, a friend moved in with me temporarily. One night, while I was working a night shift at the hospital, he called to say my kitchen had caught fire.

He explained that Jane had been boiling eggs, forgotten about them, and they’d both fallen asleep. Thankfully, they woke up before the fire spread, but I couldn’t understand why Jane was even at my apartment when she knew I was on duty.

I kept pressing my friend until he eventually confessed that they’d slept together. It wasn’t even the first time.

I did, expecting at least an apology. Instead, she blamed me.

She said I’d become distant after my friend’s death, that I wasn’t giving her enough attention, and that I’d used grief as an excuse to neglect the relationship. We got into a messy screaming match, and I broke up with her.

She said I’d become distant after my friend’s death, that I wasn’t giving her enough attention, and that I’d used grief as an excuse to neglect the relationship. We got into a messy screaming match, and I broke up with her.

But the next morning, I replayed everything she’d said and convinced myself she was right. I begged her to take me back, but she refused. She said she’d already grown tired of the relationship and insisted I’d emotionally abused her. I realised there was no going back.

I fell into depression. I didn’t want to eat, work or see anyone. Some days, I questioned whether life was worth living.

A few months later, I unexpectedly saw Jane talking with another man. She didn’t even notice me, but just seeing her triggered a panic attack.

I decided to get away for some time, so I travelled home and finally opened up to a childhood friend. He invited me to his church, and for the first time in months, I felt like someone understood what I was going through. Every word from the pastor resonated deeply.

He also introduced me to his pastor, who spent hours listening to me without judgement. Even after I returned home, we kept talking online, and I eventually joined one of their branches closer to me.

As I grew spiritually, I started examining how I’d approached relationships. I realised I’d built almost every relationship around sex. We’d become physical long before we built any real emotional intimacy.