In a village long ago, there was a hunter who could kill any game with ease. Yet, whenever he succeeded, forest spirits were always there to whisper to him: “This win is heavy, but it comes with a shadow, a prize.” Hunter could have all the deers and duikers he wanted, but happiness seemed to elude him.
Just as the hunter’s prize carries a shadow, political victories in Nigeria bring their own curses: betrayals, irrational demands and rejections, compromised ideals, public expectations, personal sacrifices that take away private happiness. In public office, success grants power and prestige, but does it guarantee peace of mind and lasting fulfilment?
Anyway, today is not about politics of ambassadors, resignations and appointments and disappointments. It is about intimacy and intimate affairs.
Winners take all but every win carries a weight; and you must brace your neck to carry it. So it is with Ms. Winners. Her victories come at a cost; her prize is, indeed, a curse. In sports, the winner gets a trophy; in a beauty pageant, a crown; in politics, power.
Even Nobel laureates receive prizes. But for Ms. Winners, her prize comes with a sting— it is a curse.
She had her life all mapped out: graduate at 21, serve her nation, work for three years, then marry, ideally with three children by 30. Things started well. She graduated at 21, completed her NYSC, and landed a better job than she imagined. But her carefully plotted timeline derailed. Her three-year boyfriend impregnated a 19-year-old from a wealthy family studying abroad. Family loyalties, ambitions, and church politics intervened, leaving her heartbroken. Her dreams of early marriage and children were suddenly on hold.
Life moved on. By 28, she had an MBA and was climbing the career ladder, admired by peers for her brilliance and work ethic. She drove a car, earned more than she needed, and lived well. Yet her love life remained a desert. Men were drawn to her beauty and success, but rarely for the reasons she wanted. Many wanted her as a trophy, not a partner. Exhausted by disappointments, she took a year off from dating to reflect: Had she set her standards too high? Was her career intimidating? Was she looking for a man who did not exist? By 35, she was rich, still single, and still searching.
This is the Winner’s Curse—a place where success challenges self-esteem and tests faith.
It is harder when siblings are married, children running around, family gatherings filled with compliments, yet no eligible man notices her worth. Many women like Ms. Winners work long hours, run businesses, hold public office, earn well, live comfortably, and treat others with respect. Yet, when it comes to marriage, life seems unfair.
Why does this happen? Do men prefer less ambitious or less successful partners? Or is it society that quietly penalises women who achieve too much? Success comes through hard work, timing, and divine blessing. Should women reject these blessings because love has been elusive?
Should they turn down promotions, forgo degrees, or limit their lifestyle while waiting for a partner? Surely, even wealth and beauty should not be deterrents—yet, they often are.
Ms. Winners faces a paradox: the better she does, the lonelier she becomes. The men who remain are either taken, insincere, or ill-suited. Young gigolos seek temporary gain; older married men look for fleeting thrills. Sometimes a relationship works; often it doesn’t. Her victories — the car, the career, the accolades — become her albatross.
The Winner’s Curse is real. Hard work, beauty, wealth — these should bring freedom and joy, yet for many women, they bring loneliness. So, we might sum up Ms. Winners’ lot this way: she wins, she shines, she succeeds — but she is alone.
The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.
