Ramadan is a sacred month for Muslims — a time of fasting, devotion, and stepping away from anything considered haram. But what happens when that includes a whole relationship?
In this story, *Teni, 27, shares what it’s like dating *Abdul, 30, a man who loves her fiercely for most of the year but disappears completely during Ramadan. For 30 days, she goes from being his partner to a stranger, waiting for the moment he returns like nothing ever happened.
As told to Adeyinka
I met *Abdul in my third year of university. It wasn’t some grand love story. We were in the same study group, and he was always the one explaining concepts better than the lecturers. Over time, we started hanging out outside of class, and soon, our friendship turned into something more.
Being with Abdul was easy. He was kind, funny, and always knew how to make me feel safe. I had dated other guys before, but this was the first time I felt truly understood. Our differences — especially our religious backgrounds — felt minor compared to everything we had in common.
At least, that’s what I thought.
The first Ramadan we spent together, I noticed he was withdrawing. He went from texting all day to one-word replies and eventually complete silence. I tried not to overthink it. Maybe he was just busy, overwhelmed with work and fasting. Then one morning, I sent him a voice note, and it didn’t deliver. I checked my messages; my last three hadn’t been read. I called, and it rang out. By evening, my concern turned into panic. Had something happened?
I reached out to his best friend, who casually told me, “Oh, Abdul doesn’t really talk to people during Ramadan.”
I didn’t know how to process that. Didn’t talk to people? Did I suddenly fall into the same category as his classmates, neighbours, and acquaintances? I was his girlfriend.
When Ramadan ended, he called me like nothing had happened. I wanted to be angry, to demand answers, but before I could get too deep into my feelings, he was already saying he missed me.
“It’s just something I do every year,” he explained. “I try to stay away from anything that could void my fast, and that includes our relationship.”
TAKE THE QUIZ: Can You Make 15 Words Out Of “RAMADAN” In 1 Minute?
I let it go because I loved him.
The following year, I convinced myself it would be different. Maybe now that we had more history, he wouldn’t completely disappear. Maybe I’d get a text here and there. But when Ramadan began, he shut me out again — no calls, no messages, nothing. I remember sitting with my phone, debating whether I should reach out. Would I be disturbing his spiritual journey? Would he think I was selfish for wanting to hear from him?
I stayed quiet, hoping he would be the one to reach out first. He never did.
The worst Ramadan was last year. I had long accepted that he would disappear for the month, but I didn’t expect to run into him at the mall. I was with my cousin when I spotted him. My heart leapt. Here was my boyfriend, the man I loved, after weeks of silence.
I smiled and started walking towards him, ready to ask him about his fast, his family, or anything else. But right before my eyes, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.
I felt like I had been slapped.
That night, I sent him a message saying, “I saw you today.” He didn’t respond.
When Ramadan ended, he came back with the same old excuse. He said it’s because of how much he cares about me, and the sexual thoughts that consume him whenever we were together.
I wanted to understand. I really did. I knew he was committed to his faith, and I never wanted to be the person who made him compromise. But I also couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being erased, reduced to something haram that had to be put away like alcohol or worldly pleasures.
Every year, I tell myself I’ll get used to it. And every year, I don’t.
Last Friday, we had our last proper time together before Ramadan started. He told me he loved me, and I told him I’d miss him. But as I write this, I know that for the next 30 days, I won’t exist to him. No good morning texts. No phone calls. I’ll have to pretend I don’t know him if I see him somewhere.
And in April, when he calls again and slides back into my life like nothing happened, I don’t know if I’ll still have the strength to pick up.
ALSO READ: 7 Young Muslims on Navigating the Demands of Ramadan
