The Dirty Dishes in My Sink Taught Me Everything

Let me tell you about the night I realized I hadn’t had truly great sex in three years.

I was standing in my kitchen at 11:47 PM, staring at a sink full of dishes. The leftover jollof rice had cemented itself to the pot in that special way that makes you question all your life choices. I was washing them slowly, carefully, like each plate required my full attention.

My boyfriend at the time was already in bed. We’d just had sex. And I was washing dishes.

Not because I was angry. Not because I was avoiding him. But because somewhere between the foreplay and the main event, my brain had decided that what was happening in the bedroom was less important than the fact that the sponge was getting gross and I should probably replace it.

I finished the dishes. Walked to the bedroom. Climbed into bed. And lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering why I felt absolutely nothing.

Not sadness. Not frustration. Just… nothing.

The sex had been fine. Technically fine. He did all the right things—the right moves, the right timing. By all outward signs, it should have been satisfying.

But my body had been in the room. My mind had been in the kitchen. And my heart? My heart was somewhere in the parking lot of Shoprite, probably scrolling through Instagram.

That night started me on a journey that took years. There were multiple conversations with my girls over small chops and Chapman. There were tearful moments I didn’t understand. There was a yoga class where I started crying for what seemed like no reason at all.

And what I discovered changed everything.

So if you’re reading this thinking, “Sex is okay but it’s not the amazing thing everyone talks about,” I need you to know something important: the problem isn’t your technique, your partner, or your body.

The problem is that you’re trying to have sex while carrying a heavy load of things you’ve never dealt with.

The Performance Trap

Here’s something nobody tells you: we’ve turned sex into a show.

Think about it. When did sex stop being about connection and start being about doing everything right? We have positions to learn. Orgasms to achieve—and not just any orgasms, but the right kind, in the right order, with the right amount of noise. We have thoughts running through our heads: “Am I doing this right? Is he almost there? Why is my mind wandering to what my boss said this morning? Focus!”

Sex has become just another thing on our to-do list. Another thing to be good at.

The more you try to perform, the less you actually feel.

I remember a really low moment with an ex. I had a mental checklist running during sex. A boring, everyday checklist:

• [ ] Buy chicken from the market
• [ ] Reply to Mum’s message
• [ ] Maybe try that new position
• [ ] Remember to breathe properly
• [ ] Did I lock the gate?

I was so disconnected from my own body, so focused on doing things right, that I couldn’t actually feel anything real.

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. But we need to talk about why you’re doing this to yourself.

The Real Issue

How you feel about sex shows how you feel about yourself.

The way you show up in bed is the way you show up in life. If you’re always looking for others to tell you you’re good enough, you’ll look for that in the bedroom too. If you struggle with feeling like you matter, that struggle will be there when you’re naked with someone.

I spent years using sex to feel wanted. I was asking the person I was sleeping with to make me feel valuable. And when they couldn’t fill that empty space inside me, I felt worse.

The most honest thing I ever said to myself: I wasn’t enjoying sex because I didn’t really like myself.

That hurt to admit. It still hurts to write.

But as Nigerian women, we’re not exactly raised to like ourselves. We’re raised to be good. To be respectful. To get married. To have children. But to actually like ourselves? To explore what we want and need? That part doesn’t get talked about.

The Things That Block Your Pleasure

1. Anger You Haven’t Released

You know that argument you had weeks ago that you never really resolved? The one where he left his clothes on the floor again?

That anger is still in your body. It’s in your shoulders, your jaw, your hips. It shows up during sex as tightness, as distraction, as a feeling that something is off.

A friend once told me she couldn’t enjoy sex because she was still angry about how her husband ignored her feelings at a family gathering six months before. Six months! She’d said she was fine. But her body remembered.

Your body doesn’t forget. If you’re holding onto anger, unmet needs, or things you haven’t said, it will show up when you try to be close to someone.

2. Comparing Yourself to Others

We live in a world full of unrealistic sex images. Porn. Movies. That friend with the amazing sex stories. People on social media talking about their “mind-blowing experiences.” That cousin who keeps telling everyone how great her husband is in bed.

I fell into this trap hard. I’d be in the middle of sex and suddenly think, “Should this be more exciting? Why aren’t I having some amazing experience like in the movies?”

Comparing steals everything good. It takes you out of your body and puts you in your head. And pleasure can’t live in your head.

I started asking myself: “If no one was watching, and I had nothing to compare this to, what would I actually want right now?”

The answer was always simple. Less pressure. More slowness. More laughter. More of the messy, awkward, human stuff that never makes it to WhatsApp statuses.

3. Disliking Your Body

I don’t know a single Nigerian woman who hasn’t struggled with how she looks. From aunties saying “you’re getting fat” to pressure to have a “perfect” body, we’ve been judged since we were young.

You can’t fully enjoy pleasure if you’re always judging the body that’s receiving it.

How can you be present when part of your mind is watching your stomach, your thighs, your stretch marks?

I remember someone telling me I was beautiful. Instead of feeling beautiful, I thought, “They’re probably just saying that because they want sex.”

That voice is self-hatred. And it kills pleasure every single time.

The Nigerian Situation

Being a Nigerian woman adds extra challenges.

We grow up in a world where sex is everywhere—in music, movies, conversations. But it’s also shameful, secret, and never properly discussed. We’re told to be “good girls” but also to “keep our husbands happy.” We’re judged for enjoying sex but also judged if we’re not interested.

We’re expected to be sexually available but not sexually knowledgeable. To satisfy but not to want satisfaction.

Then there’s family pressure. Aunties asking when you’ll get married. Mothers warning you not to “spoil yourself.” Everyone asking when the baby is coming the moment you get married. Sex becomes just a way to have children. Pleasure? That’s a luxury you can’t afford when everyone has expectations of you.

How to Come Back to Your Body

Here’s where change starts.

The more I stayed present in my body, the better sex felt.

I started small. Not during sex—that was too much pressure. Just in everyday life:

• I noticed how my body felt when I was stressed
• I checked in with myself during the day
• I moved my body in ways that felt good
• I danced in my kitchen to Nigerian music—not for anyone, just for me

Slowly, I learned to be present during sex.

The first time I truly felt present during intimacy, I cried. I wasn’t sad—I was just overwhelmed by how real it felt. How connected I felt to my body, to my partner, to that moment.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d been missing.

Practical Things That Helped Me

1. Look Back Honestly

Think about your recent sexual experiences. Ask yourself:

• Where was my mind during sex?
• Was I really there or somewhere else?
• What was my body feeling?
• Was I actually enjoying it or just going through the motions?

Don’t judge yourself. Just notice. As we say, “Na who no know go know.”

2. Practice Saying No

Start with small things: “No, I don’t want rice right now.” “No, I don’t want to go to that party.”

Every time you say no to what you don’t want, you build strength to say yes to what you actually want. Including in the bedroom.

3. Put Down Your Phone

If you can’t sit alone without checking your phone, you can’t be present during sex. Practice being alone with your thoughts. Let yourself be bored sometimes. Your brain needs to remember how to just be.

4. Touch Yourself With Curiosity

Touch your own body without any goal. Just explore. Notice what feels good. Notice what doesn’t. Learn what your body likes.

Your body is always telling you what it wants. You just need to listen.

5. Talk to Your Partner

I know this is scary. It’s easier to just go along with things. But staying quiet is ruining your sex life.

Try saying: “I feel distracted. Can we slow down?” or “I’d really like it if you touched me here.”

People who truly care about you will appreciate knowing what you want.

6. Let Go of Shame

The shame around sex in our culture runs deep. It’s in our language, our jokes, how we judge other women.

Notice when you feel shame. Ask yourself where that voice comes from. Is it really yours? What would happen if you let it go?

The Most Important Thing I Learned

You can’t have amazing sex if you’re using sex to get something you’re not giving yourself.

If you’re looking for approval through sex, you’ll always feel empty. If you’re looking for love through sex, you’ll always feel unfulfilled. If you’re trying to escape through sex, you’ll always come back to the same problems.

The bravest thing you can do is give yourself what you’ve been looking for from others. Approval. Love. Acceptance. Being present.

When you can give those things to yourself, sex becomes sharing instead of searching. It becomes about what you already have, not what you’re missing.

That’s what I was missing that night in the kitchen, staring at those dishes.

I was trying to find myself in someone else. And I couldn’t, because I’d forgotten where I lived.

Where to Start

I’m not going to pretend this is easy. It’s not. It’s the hardest work I’ve ever done, and I’m still doing it.

But it’s worth it. Every uncomfortable conversation. Every moment I had to admit the problem wasn’t my partner—it was my own disconnection.

On the other side is something beautiful. Not perfect sex—I don’t think that exists. But real sex. Connected sex. Where your body, mind, and heart are all in the same place at the same time.

Start where you are. Be gentle with yourself. The dishes can wait. The pressure can wait. The aunties can wait.

What can’t wait is you. Your pleasure. Your presence. Your connection to yourself.

You deserve to feel fully alive in your body. Not just in the bedroom, but everywhere.

To My Nigerian Sisters

You’ve been told so many things. Be quiet. Be polite. Don’t make noise. Your body is for others, not really for you.

But here’s the truth: your body is yours. Your pleasure is yours. What you want is yours.

You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to settle for “okay” when “amazing” is possible.

The journey to enjoying sex is really the journey to enjoying yourself. And that’s the most important journey you’ll ever take.

Start today. Start small. Start with one honest conversation—with yourself or with someone you trust.

You’re not alone. Thousands of Nigerian women are having this same conversation, feeling this same struggle, wanting this same thing.

We’re all finding our way back to ourselves.

And it starts right now.

If this spoke to you, share your story below. Your honesty might be exactly what another Nigerian sister needs to hear. Comment anonymously if that feels safer. I see you. I hear you. I’m cheering for you.