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  • Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

    Tomi* (22) and Lami* (22) met in their first year of university, and their connection was instant. They told each other everything, leaned on each other, and built a friendship Tomi believed nothing could shake. Even when Lami got into a rocky relationship, Tomi stayed by her side, determined to be a person she could always rely on.

    In this Sunken Ships, he shares how one moment forced him to question everything he thought he knew about loyalty, and his friendship with Lami.

    What moment made you realise your friendship with Lami was never going to be the same?

    When I was in the police station, being grilled by two officers, she looked at me as if she wasn’t the person who had given me the information I was being questioned about. I knew then that our friendship was probably over.

    Let’s go back to the start. Where did you meet?

    We met at university in our first year in 2021. We shared a class and a passing acquaintance quickly deepened into a close bond.

    Tell me about the early years of your friendship.

    We told each other everything. I felt like I could be myself with her and saw her as my sister. I thought she felt the same way about me.

    Okay, what about her boyfriend? What was the dynamic there?

    Lami started dating this guy in our set, Layo*, when we were in 200L. He seemed to genuinely care about her and was pretty chill during the few times we hung out as a group. I was happy for my friend and the love she had found, but my perception of him changed negatively only a short while after they started dating.

    Why?

    Because we were close, Lami would often confide in me about her relationship. From our conversations, I found out that Layo was controlling. At first, I thought that was the extent of it, but as their relationship continued, Lami’s reports became more and more disturbing until she finally told me that Layo was being physically abusive.

    That’s awful. Did you try to confront him?

    No, I didn’t. I didn’t want him to think that Lami was discussing their relationship with outsiders and possibly punish her for it.

    Did you ever encourage her to leave him?

    Yes, several times. I wasn’t sure how best to help her since I’m a student too, but I encouraged her to speak to someone with authority or at least break up with him.

    Did she try to?

    No. She would promise me each time that she would either split up or talk to someone, but she wouldn’t go through with it. Instead, she made excuses for him and stayed with him because she really loved him.

    How did this make you feel?

    I felt powerless. I hated seeing my friend go through something so terrible, so I decided not to abandon her and continue to be a safe space for her. But then I heard a rumour that shook me to my core.

    What did you hear?

    One day, one of the boys in my hostel came to me and asked if I’d heard that Layo’s boyfriend was beating her. I was alarmed. I thought Lami had only confided in me and one other friend. I didn’t want to give up her secrets, so I tried to play it off as an unfounded rumour. 

    Did you tell her about it?

    Yes. As soon as he left, I texted Lami and told her about the rumour. I was also worried about what I’d heard, so I asked her if she was okay and if she needed me.

    What did she say?

    She asked who told me, but I wasn’t willing to name-drop my friend as the source, so I tried to be vague about it. I was focused on trying to see if she needed my support, but she was more worried about the fact that other people might be talking about her relationship. We ended the conversation there and promised to speak better when we ran into each other.

    Okay, what happened after that conversation?

    The next day, I was relaxing in my hostel when I got a call from my friend. He told me that Layo was going round our hostel asking about the rumours. He even called me, but I didn’t pick up because I had dozed. The next thing I knew, there were two police officers knocking at my door.

    Police ke?

    I was so shocked. They were with Layo and said they wanted me to follow them to their station to answer a few questions.

    That’s crazy!

    Too crazy. I asked for a warrant and their intentions because I was scared, but they reassured me there was no big issue and said they only wanted to ask some questions. Even Layo was reassuring me that there were no problems and they only wanted to clarify some issues, so I eventually went with them.

    What happened at the station?

    They started asking me about the rumours; where I’d heard that Layo was abusing his girlfriend and who was spreading them. I was reluctant to rat my source out to the police, so I told them I only heard it in passing in the hostel. While they were questioning me, our mutual friend was also brought to the station. Apparently, Lami had called her to ask about the rumours the day before as well.

    Omo. Where was Lami in all this?

    Surprisingly, she was at the station with Layo, but she kept acting like she had never told me anything about her relationship, so I kept quiet too.

    Why didn’t you call her out?

    I’m not sure. I didn’t know if she was pretending out of fear or for some other reason. It felt as if I said she was the one who told me about the abuse, it would mean I was betraying her trust. So I pretended that the day before was the first time I had ever heard about it.

    Wow. What happened next?

    My friend and I were at the station for hours and were forced to write statements about the rumours. It was very upsetting. When we were left alone, we talked about how Lami was the person who told us she was being abused, but we agreed not to oust her at the police station. They eventually let us go without doing anything to us.

    I’m so sorry about that. Did you get to talk to her after this happened?

    Thanks. Yes I did. I texted her that evening and asked why she was pretending at the station. She seemed apologetic and said that Layo had gone through her messages and knew to harass me and our other friend because he suspected we were the ones telling people about him. 

    Did you ask why she didn’t stand up for you?

    No, I was exhausted from the drama of the day. Besides, I figured Layo threatened us to isolate her from the people she could run to, so I wanted to remain a safe space for her.

    How did that work out?

    He must have continued to pressure her because after that day, she pulled back completely from both me and our mutual friend, whom she used to confide in.

    Did you try to reach out to her?

    I tried several times. But when it became apparent that she was keeping her distance, I decided to respect myself and fall back. That was the end of our friendship. 

    How did her withdrawal make you feel?

    I felt betrayed when she pulled back. I refused to expose her in the face of the police, but because of a man, she threw away our friendship. I was upset, but I’m over it now. I’ve removed myself from that situation, and I’m focusing on me. I still care about her, but she has made her choice clear.

    Do you know if she and her boyfriend are still together?

    Oh yes, they are. The rumours are still circulating, but it looks like they’re still trying to make it work.

    Do you think you’d rekindle your friendship with Lami if she leaves her toxic relationship?

    Honestly, no. I can’t help but think about how easy it was for her to throw me under the bus and stand by a man who hurts her. I don’t think I’d be able to trust her again fully. I’m afraid that if she had another opportunity to betray me for her benefit, she’d take it, and I only want friends I can be sure of.

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    Hey, if you’d like to share your own #SunkenShips story with Zikoko, fill out this form!

  • For nearly a decade, Jadesola*(38) and Remi*’s(42) marriage was defined by heartbreak and childlessness. When she caught Remi in an act of betrayal, what was supposed to spell the end of their marriage became the beginning of an unexpected second chance.

    This is Jadesola’s story as told to Betty:

    When I caught my husband flushing the drugs meant to cure his weak sperm, I saw red. In my rage, I bit hard into his shoulder before I even realised it. At that moment, I thought our marriage was over. But somehow, God had something else planned.

    ***

    I met Remi* in 2013. His aunt, who attended my church, introduced us because he’d been searching for a wife. Our attraction was instant. He was kind, caring and deeply devoted to God, and I felt lucky to have met him.  After two years of courstship, we got married in 2015 and settled in Ife. But instead of the marital bliss I expected, the man I married turned an unexpected leaf.

    He became irritable and distant, flaring up at small annoyances like closing a door too loudly or hanging up the phone before I heard him say ‘good bye’. It was frustrating.

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    We’d agreed to start trying for kids as soon as we got married, but the road to parenthood wasn’t as straightforward as I hoped. When I finally got pregnant in the second year of our marriage, I miscarried only three months later. The loss crushed me. I lost my spark and sank into depression. Remi was my rock during this time. He bathed me when I was too sad to move and took over all the household chores until I felt better. 

    After some months had passed, I told Remi I was ready to try again. He was reluctant but agreed. I got pregnant again and miscarried after two months. I felt like a failure. It felt like my whole world was crashing around me. I cried bitterly and prayed for mercy, wondering what I’d done to deserve such pain. 

    Still, I refused to give up.. I was determined to have a baby and told my husband we had to keep trying. I felt like if I could carry a pregnancy to term, it would be proof that I was a good woman, and our marriage would start to go the way I’d always imagined.

    However, Remi wasn’t cooperative. He’d thrown himself into religion. He believed evil forces from his father’s side were responsible for our losses. Instead of staying home with me, he travelled from one crusade to another, fasting and praying on mountaintops. I knew he meant well, but his absence made me lonelier than ever. 

    By 2018, I was done. I barely saw my husband except during Christmas. I was ready to leave. When I threatened to leave, he called our family members, who begged me to stay. They said leaving would mean letting the enemies win. I agreed to stay, but only on the condition that Remi followed me to the hospital for fertility tests. He was reluctant at first, but when he realised I was serious, he agreed. 

    In 2018, we found ourselves waiting in a long queue at a hospital in Ibadan, hoping to see a doctor and hoping they would have answers to our issues. After several tests, the doctors said there was nothing wrong with me. But Remi had weak sperm. Hearing that gave me hope; it was the first time we’d gotten any medical explanation for our troubles. The doctors also said some medications could help improve his sperm quality. Leaving the hospital that day felt like a fresh start, like we’d gotten a second chance to find the spark in our union. I was so wrong. The drugs didn’t seem to work — or so I thought. I got pregnant twice after that, and they both ended in miscarriage. By 2020, the grief had worn me down. Still, I wanted us to keep trying. I was sure in my heart that we could have a baby.

    Then, one night in September 2020, I woke up to pee and noticed that the other side of the bed was empty. I almost freaked out, but then I remembered it was Remi; he was probably somewhere in the house praying. I stumbled sleepily toward the bathroom and immediately noticed the light was on. I pushed the door open and froze: Remi was emptying his pills into the toilet. 

    For moments, it was hard to connect the sight in front of me to the many thoughts crashing against each other in my head. Those pills were our one ticket to finally having a child, the only thing keeping my hope alive. Watching him destroy them snapped something inside me. I lunged at him, screaming, and before I knew it, my teeth were on his shoulder. He yelled in pain, but I couldn’t stop. 

    When I ran out of strength, I rushed out of the house screaming, “Remi ti pa mi o!” “Remi has killed me”. I threw myself on the floor, crying and screaming until our neighbours came out.

    The wives in the compound gathered around me and tried to calm me down, but I was inconsolable. I wanted to sit in the dust forever. I cried and cried for all the babies I’d lost. I was doing everything I could, drinking herbal medications, eating well and tracking my period. All he had to do was take his medication, and he wasn’t even going to do that. The wives in the compound eventually led me back inside, but by morning, I’d made up my mind— I was leaving. 

    Remi begged me to stay, said he could explain, but I was too hurt to allow the words from his mouth get to me. I packed a few clothes and went to his older sister’s house in Ibadan. I cried bitterly again when I told her what Remi did. She was so disappointed and promised to give me whatever support I needed.

    Later, they called a family meeting, but I refused to attend. I didn’t want to see his face after what he did. His sister went on my behalf and recounted all that was said. Remi had confessed that a prophet told him my womb wouldn’t carry a child as long as he kept taking the drugs. He thought he was helping me by secretly throwing them away.

    In the days that followed, his sister stood by me. She said I didn’t have to go back to his house and could stay for as long as I needed. It was a relief to hear. I wasn’t ready to face Remi, and even though I had physically left his house, I wasn’t ready to file for divorce. He kept calling and texting from new numbers, sending long apologies and promises to take his medication, but I ignored him. I wasn’t ready to forgive.

    In 2021, I started attending church with my sister-in-law.  That was where I met Bode*, an older man took interest in me as soon as I joined the church. I told him I was still married, but he said it wasn’t an issue, that he liked me and wanted to build a life with me. 

    When I shared with Remi’s sister, she said I had her support to marry someone else. So I indulged Bode. He’d follow us home after church, and we’d walk around the neighbourhood talking. I liked him well enough; he seemed nice, but he didn’t make me feel the same way Remi did. 

    In early 2023, Bode asked me to marry him. I reminded him that I hadn’t even started a divorce process from Remi, but he said he just wanted my commitment. Bode even promised to help with the process. I said I’d think about it.

    When Remi heard about the proposal, he travelled to the church, angry and ready to fight Bode. That was when I decided to face him for the first time in over a year. That day, in August 2023, when I saw Remi, I burst into tears. He started crying too, and we hugged each other. I was still angry about the past, but I’d missed him. I couldn’t deny the betrayal I felt, but I also couldn’t deny that I loved him. 

    Remi went on his knees, brought out the same medication, and swallowed them right in front of me. He swore he’d been taking them since I left, and if I gave him another chance, he would never betray me again. 

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    I was sceptical, but I decided to try again. I knew that he loved me; he just acted on some bad advice. By mid-2024, I found out I was pregnant again. This time, we kept it a secret.  After I crossed the first trimester, we travelled to Ogun state, where no one knew us and stayed there until I delivered a healthy baby boy in February 2025. We only broke the news to our families a week later, after a pastor already christened our son.

    Everyone was delighted. They were shocked and a little hurt that we kept it from them, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Our boy is the spitting image of Remi. I couldn’t be happier. His existence is like a balm that soothes the wounds of the past losses I suffered. 

    Remi is besotted with me and the baby. Since his birth, he hasn’t let me lift a finger. It’s as if our love quadrupled overnight. He no longer leaves home for weeks on end to pray on mountaintops; he’s here with us, building the life I’d always dreamed about.

    I have suffered great pain and grief, but the joy I have now makes the past hurts feel like a nightmare I’ve long woken from. I’m grateful to God for the wonderful family I have today.

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    READ ALSO: Marriage Diaries: The Wife Who Fell in Love Again After Becoming A Mum

  • Sometimes, in Nigeria, adulthood isn’t just about age; it’s about the permission to assert yourself constantly. You can be 30, have a degree, even pay bills, yet still get treated like a rebellious teenager. For many young Nigerians, adulthood isn’t something they step into: it’s something they have to fight for. We asked some of them what it’s like to live under parental control even as adults, and they had a lot to get off their chests.

    “I can’t imagine my life without controlling parents” – Tomiwa*, 22, M

    Tomiwa expected more freedom after turning 18, but his parents have refused to let up. After several failed attempts to assert himself, he’s decided to manage the situation until he can stand on his own.

    “I’m 22 and still fully dependent on my parents. When I turned 18, I expected a little more freedom to make my personal choices, but I never got that, no matter how much I protested or rebelled. 

    My strict 6:00 p.m. curfew remains the most annoying rule I have to follow. Because of it, I rarely go out when I’m home from school. I must ask permission before visiting anyone or risk problems at home.

    Once, I complained about how suffocating the rules felt, and my dad flogged me until I bled. I still have scars from that beating. This control has affected me in both good and bad ways. I realised I can’t make decisions without first checking with them. Even in school, I find myself reporting everything I do. On the flip side, I’ve become a good liar.  They never allowed me to learn a skill so I don’t make any money. I watch my mates living independently, while I still ask permission to visit a friend.. If I try to assert myself, they complain or preach that the devil wants to lead me astray. They only support any decision I make if they think it’s ‘good enough’. 

    The worst part is I can’t imagine life without them. Their control gives me structure and stability I don’t know how to replicate. I don’t make big decisions about my life, and in its own way, it’s freeing. I hate it, but I’ve gotten used to it. These days, I just go with the flow for peace to reign.”

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    “They paint my independence as rebellion, but it’s not true” – Demi*, 22, F

    Even though Demi lives on her own, she still has to defend her choices. As the first child, breaking this cycle of control is important for her siblings’ access to free will.

    “I currently live alone thanks to NYSC. I paid my rent myself, and I don’t contribute to bills at home. I help out occasionally, but that’s about it.

    The first time I noticed I was still being treated like a teenager was after university. I wanted to visit a friend, and my parents questioned me like it was secondary school all over again. They asked if the friend had ever visited me before. When I insisted, they gave me a strict time to be home.

    When I’m at home, I have to follow other strict rules, including no calls after 8:00 p.m. and a 7:00 p.m.curfew. The night call ban frustrates me the most. I try not to follow all their rules, but it always ends in exhausting arguments. 

    For instance, the school I’m serving at recently went on a mid-term break, and my mum insisted I return home. When I refused, she reported me to my dad, claiming I was spending time with a man. 

    This constant monitoring has especially affected my social life. I barely have friends, let alone a romantic relationship.

    I’m 22; if I can’t make my own decisions now, when will I? I’m the first child, and it’s important that I break free of their control so my siblings can have an easier run. My mum keeps trying to paint my need for independence as rebellion, but I know she just wants to keep me under her thumb.

    If I had total autonomy, I’d live without worrying about their approval. My social life would improve, and I’d finally be able to make and keep friends.”

    “My mum refuses to treat me like an adult” — Mide*, 22, F

    Mide shares how, even after leaving university, her mum’s control still dictactes her every move.

    “I’m freshly out of uni and waiting on NYSC, so I’m still dependent on my parents. My mum still treats me like a child; her word is always final. She says I’m grown, but never treats me like my own person. 

    She needs to know everything — where I am, where I’m going, who I’m going with.   She also insists I follow her to church even when I don’t want to.

    I find myself scared of doing basic things because I know I’ll eventually have to explain myself.. It’s very draining, and half the time I don’t even bother at all. 

    Whenever I try to assert any kind of independence, she reminds me she’s my mum and older than me; typical Yoruba mother stuff. If I had full autonomy, I’d live on my own away from their constant monitoring. I think I’d also find socialising and dating a lot easier.”

    “I just got my independence and now, I know it’s something that must be fought for” — Augustus*, 31, M

    Augustus only recently broke free from his mother’s control. Despite paying most of the bills, he still lived by her strict rules.

    “I lived with my mum till I was 30 and only moved out in September 2024. She’s been retired for a while, so I paid rent and split other bills with my brother. Despite this fact, my living situation was awful. 

    My mother is very traditional and loves reminding me she’s older. Anytime she doesn’t get her way, she’d pull the ‘Don’t you know I’m your mother?’ card. I couldn’t stay out late, and even when I stayed with friends or lodged at a hotel, it caused arguments. Even watching a late-night movie caused problems;  she’d ask why I wasn’t using the time to pray. Anything that didn’t align with her personal traditional and religious beliefs, she tried to shut down.  

    She always wanted to know what was happening in my friendships or relationships.  I’m a confident person, but her behaviour still affected my social life. When I lived with her, my female friends couldn’t visit because she assumed I had something more with them. I even stopped inviting  my male friends because she would ask them a thousand and one questions.

    When I tried to assert myself, she didn’t take it well. She’d get livid and combative every time I tried to do things on my own. At 29, she was still dictating what I could or couldn’t do. My mates already had children, but she was trying to tell me how to live my life. 

    Now that I live alone, I’m able to spend time with my friends more intimately. They can visit and chill until they’re ready to leave. It was something I was never allowed to do.”

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    “At night, I hide my phone from my parents” — Timileyin*, 28, F

    Timileyin shares how she’s secretly planning to escape her parents’ suffocating control.

    “I still live with my parents, but I’m secretly planning to move out in early 2026. They’ve always been overbearing and monitored my movement since secondary school. They hardly let me visit friends, and my friends couldn’t visit either. Even in university, I wasn’t allowed to stay in the hostel. My dad would drop me off at the gate every morning and pick me up after class. I never attended any parties or school dinners.

    Once, in 2017, my mum went through my phone and found my messages with my crush on Facebook. I had to start handing my phone to them every night. It’s been very frustrating. 

    I still have a 7:00 p.m. curfew, even though I work at a front desk. Lagos traffic means I get into trouble with them a lot if I get home late. Whenever I do, they accuse me of following bad girls and say that if I ruin my life, it’s my fault.

    One of my coworkers is 23 and lives alone. She seems more put together than I am, and I envy her freedom. My parents’ control has really affected my confidence. I find it hard to stand up for myself.

    Two years ago, I told them I wanted to get my own apartment, but they refused.  They kicked against the idea, saying armed robbers could attack or that no man would marry a woman living alone. Eventually, I gave up the idea and continued living with them.. I’ve only recently started fighting back, and they don’t take it well. Now, I refuse to give them my phone at night; instead, I hide it. It drives my mum crazy. She accuses me of watching porn or talking to men. I barely entertain the accusations. It’s ridiculous that I even have to hand over my phone at all.

    I’ve been saving up for the past eight months. When I get to my target, I’ll move out and rent a decent two-bedroom apartment. I don’t plan to tell them until it’s time to move. I look forward to making new friends and hosting them at my place. It’s something I’ve only seen people do on social media.”

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    Here’s Your Next Read: 5 Nigerian Women on the Frequency of Sex Before and After They Got Married

  • For many Nigerian men, friendships are where they find the kind of care, honesty, and support that society often doesn’t allow them to ask for openly. Whether it’s a friend who helps you rewrite your career story or pushes you to take a life-changing chance, these relationships often become the quiet backbone of a man’s life.

    Zikoko asked a few men to tell us about the male friendships that changed their lives, and they had some wholesome stories to share.

    “He changed the course of my career with his advice” — Tomi*, 30

    How did you guys meet?

    Fumbi and I met online in 2019 and chatted occasionally, but we weren’t very close. In 2021, I went to check on my new apartment during renovations and ran into him. He turned out to be my upstairs neighbour. We started talking again and clicked instantly. We became so close that it felt like we were flatmates, rather than neighbours. We stayed that way until he passed away in June 2025. 

    It’s been one of the greatest losses of my life.

    I’m sorry. Can you describe an experience that made you realise that he was really your guy?

    Too many to count. Even while battling health challenges, he always checked on me, randomly sent lunch or stopped by my workplace just to gist. He was truly like a brother to me. He was a recruiter and guided me through revamping my LinkedIn profile and changing the course of my career. He was that person who uplifted others and encouraged them to be better.

    What’s something you learned about love, loyalty or friendship from him?

    Before Fumbi, I held grudges easily.. He taught me to let go because you never know when you’ll see someone for the last time. It’s made me a more forgiving person in general, and I will always appreciate him for that.

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    “He pushed me hard to apply for the scholarship that changed my life” — Dayo*, 29

    How did you guys meet?

    We met during our A-level studies in 2014 and became inseparable.

    Can you describe an experience that made you realise that he was really your guy?

    One Sunday in 2022, we were driving around, looking for a football pitch when we saw an ad for a professional programme with a scholarship. I was interested but didn’t want to go through the stress of applying. He pulled me aside and threatened to end our friendship if I didn’t go through with it, so I did. That year-long scholarship introduced me to my future and the community I’m building it with. I don’t know if I would have made that life-changing decision if he hadn’t pushed me to do it.

    What’s something you learned about love, loyalty or friendship from him?

    Sometimes, being a real friend means pushing your person to do what’s best for them.

    “He became my safest space” – Daniel*, 30

    How did you guys meet?

    Biyi* and I met on Facebook while in university. I was initially friends with his older sister, but he and I built a much stronger bond.

    Can you describe an experience that made you realise that he was really your guy?

    When he japa-ed, he made sure I could rent his old flat without paying any exorbitant agency and legal fees. I’d just come out of a long stretch of unemployment and was struggling to afford rent. He also left his appliances and furniture behind, so I wouldn’t have to buy them. I knew he was my guy before then, but that act just solidified it for me. It set me up for a softer landing when I moved out of my parents’ house, and I’m forever grateful for it.

    Biyi’s also my safest space. I can tell him anything and everything without fear of judgment.

    Sweet. What’s something you learned about love, loyalty or friendship from him?

    You don’t have to talk to your best friend every day to be sure they have your best interest at heart. I also learned that a true friend should always tell you the truth, even when it may be hard to hear.

    “He has never made me feel like a burden” — Akin*, 27

    How did you guys meet?

    Bayo* and I grew up together as childhood friends. Our parents share the same anniversary. When he moved abroad for school, I thought the distance would change our relationship, but it didn’t. We’ve stayed closed through the years. 

    Can you describe an experience that made you realise that he was really your guy?

    It’s not a particular thing he did, but more about what he’s always doing. He’s a year younger than me. When people tried to compare us after he moved abroad, he defended me every time. He told them I was his brother., Even now, he doesn’t think of himself alone; he always includes me in everything. We constantly discuss our ideas and our plans for the future. I’ve never felt uncomfortable sharing my big dreams with him because he’s never made me feel like a burden, and that’s rare.

    What’s something you learned about love, loyalty or friendship from him?

    He’s taught me that family isn’t always by blood ties. It’s the people who stay, who show up and who remind you you’re worth choosing.

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    “He inspired me to overhaul my value system completely” — Banji*, 30

    How did you guys meet?

    Yinka* and I met on the church steps ten years ago when I was still religious. He wore an outfit with clashing colours, and I joked about fixing his sense of style. Instead of being upset, he actually found it really funny, and that’s how we became friends.

    Can you describe an experience that made you realise that he was really your guy?

    From the start, he was always open and honest.  Even though we attended different universities, we still travelled to visit each other whenever we could. I really liked that about us. Our friendship made me completely re-evaluate my value system. Yinka made me uncomfortable telling lies, even about the smallest things. Once, we were late to church and I’d planned to blame it on traffic. When a pastor asked, and I lied as planned, Yinka shut it down and admitted that we had just mismanaged our time, which made us late. I was a bit embarrassed, and I felt betrayed that he would out us like that.

    But when I spoke to him about it later, he firmly stated that there was never a good reason to lie and that if we told the truth, what was the worst that could happen? It taught me to always be honest and expect honesty from others.

    What’s something you learned about love, loyalty or friendship from him?

    He taught me one of the most important lessons: how to navigate difficult conversations. Many male friendships suffer from poor communication, but not with Yinka. Because of him, I’ve learned how to express myself even when it’s uncomfortable, and I’m a much better person for it.

    Help Shape Nigeria’s Biggest Love Report! We’re asking Nigerians about relationships, marriage, sex, money, and everything in between. Your anonymous answers will become a landmark report on modern Nigerian love. Click here to take the survey. It’s 100% anonymous.

    Here’s Your Next Read: Nigerian Women on Their Life-Changing Female Friendships

  • Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

    When Opeyemi* (28) and Aanu* (28) met in secondary school, they bonded over novels, art, and a shared sense of loyalty. For years, they were inseparable, the kind of best friends people mistook for sisters. 

    But when Aanu started dating someone who Opeyemi tried to advise against, the friendship that once felt unbreakable suddenly began to fall apart.

    What was the moment you realised that your friendship with Aanu was over?

    When she chose her cheating boyfriend over our friendship and tried to blame me for straining their relationship, I knew then that it was time for me to stop putting my energy where it wasn’t wanted.

    That’s wild. Tell me how you and Aanu met.

    She joined our SS1 class in 2011 after transferring from a different school. We both liked art and novels, so we bonded very quickly. After a month, we became seatmates and stayed close till the end of secondary school.

    How would you describe those early years of your friendship?

    They were great. She was someone I could confide in, and I felt safe in our friendship. I believe she felt that way as well. We spent so much time together both in and out of school that if I went somewhere by myself, people would ask why she wasn’t with me. We were like sisters.

    What changed?

    We went to the same university after graduation in 2013, and with our new freedom, we started dating. The problem was that Aanu had terrible taste in boys. She always seemed to pick the worst ones. As her closest friend, I would support her as best as I could, but watching her make those bad choices was difficult.

    How did this make you feel?

    It annoyed me, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I felt that we were still young and learning how to navigate romance, so I stood by her. Things took a bad turn in our 300L when she started dating the worst guy ever.

    Tell me about that.

    He was a very good-looking and popular engineering student, a year ahead of us, but he was a serial cheat. His escapades were public and embarrassing. She was always crying about something he did, and I hated seeing her that way. After their first anniversary, he cheated on her again. When she came to me in tears, I encouraged her to leave him, and she did.

    That’s great. What was the issue?

    She got back together with him a month later but didn’t tell anyone. One day in October 2017, a mutual friend texted me asking if Aanu and her ex were still together. When I told her they weren’t, she said she saw them together looking chummy. I immediately texted Aanu to confirm if it was true.

    What did she say?

    She told me that he apologised and they talked things through. When I tried to tell her that the same thing would happen again because she kept giving him chances, she said I shouldn’t speak badly about her man.

    Ah. What happened after that?

    I was shocked and stopped replying to her messages. We didn’t see or reach out to each other for a couple of days. Then I reached out to her, asking to talk. I wanted to be sure she was making the decision to date him again with a clear head.

    How did the talk go?

    It never happened. She sent me a message saying that her boyfriend wasn’t comfortable with our friendship and that the main reason they kept having problems was that my constant advice was putting a strain on their bond. She rounded off the message saying that we should spend some time apart so she could focus on her relationship.

    Omo, that’s crazy.

    I kept rereading that message over and over. A girl I had known since I was fourteen was just going to throw our friendship away because of a cheating man? I couldn’t believe my eyes.

    How did you respond?

    I just replied with “Sure”. I didn’t want to force it, but I knew in my heart that it was the end of our friendship. 

    How did you handle the end of your friendship with someone who was like a sister?

    It hit me hard. For a while after, I was wary of letting other people in because I didn’t want to go through that again. I would see something funny or interesting and almost send it to her before I remembered that we weren’t friends anymore. It sucked. I still miss her sometimes.

    Did she ever try to reach out to you since then?

    Yeah, when we graduated in 2018, she sent me a congratulatory message and even invited me to her graduation party. I didn’t respond.

    Fair enough. Do you know if she and her boyfriend stayed together?

    I heard from our mutual friends during our service year that he broke up with her because he “couldn’t handle long-distance relationships”. 

    Do you think you can reconcile and rekindle your friendship with her?

    No, I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Even if we somehow started being friends again, it will never be the way it used to be.

    Hey, if you’d like to share your own #SunkenShips story with Zikoko, fill out this form!

  • Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

    When Nedu* (32) helped Tope* (31) pack her bags to start a new life abroad, he believed their love could survive anything, even the distance. 

    In this Sunken Ships, he shares how unspoken expectations, a tragic loss and long distance spelt the end of a relationship he thought would last forever.

    How did you know your relationship with Tope was on the rocks?

    When she started planning to relocate abroad, I knew that our time together was running out. We had an elephant in the room that I didn’t notice until it was too late to save us.

    Whoa. Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me how you and Tope met.

    A mutual friend introduced us in Ibadan in 2017. I was in the city for my Master’s, and I lived with my friend for a while before I got a space of my own. She was in the city for her NYSC and she was his neighbour. She would check in on how I was adjusting when I first moved, and before we knew it, we were talking every day. Our connection grew so strong, so quickly, that I knew she was someone I wanted in my life for a long time.

    That’s so cute. So how did you start dating?

    I knew within three weeks of regular conversations that I wanted to be more than friends. When I told her, she brushed it off at first. I knew that she reciprocated my feelings, but she was hesitant about becoming my girlfriend because she was afraid of the short-term nature of our stay in Ibadan. It took a year, but in 2018, I asked her again and she agreed.

    How were the early days of your relationship like?

    It was wonderful. As soon as we started dating, she was locked in on our commitment. We were very close and she was my best friend. I loved that we had similar ideals. After I finished my Master’s and had to move back to Rivers in 2019, we became a long-distance couple, but even that didnt affect our love. I made sure to visit her as often as I could.

    Did the lockdown have a negative effect on your relationship?

    Not at all. Our connection stayed strong even through the long distance and lockdown. Funny enough, I had lost my job and was unemployed for most of 2020, but she didn’t mind. We were determined to make it work, and it did for a time.

    You seemed to be doing great together. Where did the cracks in your relationship appear?

    Tope lost her mum in 2019, and so I had to become an emotional pillar she could depend on. I tried my best to carry us both, but I was still trying to stabilise my life after I lost my job. 

    I would say my biggest mistake was continuing to act like a boyfriend when I should have started transitioning into the role of ‘husband’.

    How do you mean?

    By that point, we had been dating for three years. I think she assumed that was enough time for me to know she was ready for the next step. But I missed the signs. I loved her and would have gladly married her, but I thought I had more time to get my life in order before doing so.

    Did she ever try to talk to you about this desire to marry?

    Yes, she did, but she didn’t know how to have difficult conversations. So we would start the discussion and drop it when it got too serious because it made her uncomfortable. I should have read the situation better and pushed harder for her to speak her mind. She started mentally checking out of the relationship when she felt that her needs wouldn’t be met. Her Japa plans did not help matters at all.

    Tell me about that. How did her japa affect you both?

    We definitely weren’t in a good place in 2021 when her japa plans fell into place. She felt like we had ‘japa incompatibility’ and I wasn’t as intentional about planning to leave the country. The reality was that I wasn’t suited for Japa at the time. I had decided not to use my Master’s degree, and almost a year of joblessness post-COVID meant that I didn’t have the funds or the required experience to make that move. Regardless, I thought we were getting better.

    What made you feel that way?

    I helped her every step of the way as she planned her relocation. I helped her prep for her visa interview, helped out with 20% of the funds for her trip, helped her pack, and even saw her off to the airport. We had experience doing long distance, so I wasn’t afraid of distance breaking us up, but I was worried it would make our issues harder to resolve.

    Fair enough. How did the final split happen?

    It happened five months after she moved. I knew relocation would put a strain on our relationship, but I didn’t think we would break up. I was sure we were just going through a rough patch and that we would come out of the other side together. 

    One weekend, she just stopped responding to my messages. I got worried that something had happened to her, and I reached out to a few friends to help check in on her. It turned out that because she didn’t want to have a difficult conversation about us splitting up, she preferred to try ghosting me without saying anything.

    How did that make you feel?

    I felt bad and we talked about her decision to leave the relationship. Honestly, I thought she was just going through an adjustment phase and we would get back together. I expected that she would call me one day, like she used to, and we would continue where we left off. After four months of waiting for her, I realised she had really put our relationship behind her. I was gutted. 

    Did you try to reach out to her when you realised?

    Yes, I did. I told her this couldn’t possibly be the end of our love story, but she didn’t budge. I had to learn to live with her decision. Even now, I still wish we were together. Our love had so much potential, I wish we had gotten the chance to see it through.

    If you had the chance, would you reconcile with Tope?

    Definitely! Since we split up, we have spoken to each other a handful of times. We’ve both dated other people but have struggled to replicate the same kind of connection we had. Last time we talked, she said she was going to block me because not doing so was the reason she hadn’t gotten over me. I don’t know why she’s fighting her feelings. I think we’re meant to be. Maybe when I japa too, we’ll try again.

    Do you still believe in love? 

    Yes, I do. I’m a total lover boy. I have been struggling to find a connection as strong as the one I had with Tope, but I still hope to find a love like that again.

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    We’re surveying Nigerians about their real experiences with relationships—the good, the bad, the complicated. Whether you’re single, married, divorced, or somewhere in between, your story matters.

    This anonymous survey will help us create Nigeria’s most comprehensive report on modern love. Click here to participate.

    Hey, if you’d like to share your own #SunkenShips story with Zikoko, fill out this form!

  • Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.

    Moje* (29) thought her relationship with Gbolahan* (30) was casual, so when she met Dimeji*, she didn’t think twice about giving him her number. When Gbolahan found out and reacted like a betrayed boyfriend, she was left wondering if she’d crossed a line she didn’t know existed.

    This is Moje’s dilemma as told to Betty

    I met Gbolahan at a mutual friend’s birthday party in September 2024. He was my type: tall, dark, and stylish. I immediately felt drawn to him when he came up to talk to me, and we spent the rest of the party together.

    After that, we texted every day on WhatsApp and hung out on weekends. Honestly, I would’ve loved to be Gbolahan’s girlfriend — I liked him a lot — but he made it clear from the start that he wasn’t looking for anything serious. He said he’d just come out of a two-year relationship and needed time to heal. I understood, and since we had great chemistry in and out of bed, I didn’t mind keeping things casual.

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    By May of this year, however, things began to shift. Gbolahan had gotten busier at work, so our weekend hangouts became less frequent. Our conversations also slowed down. We still texted daily, but it was mostly quick morning or night check-ins, rather than long chats throughout the day. I assumed things were naturally fizzling out, so when I met Dimeji* at a bar one Friday night, I didn’t mind giving him my number, and we started seeing each other casually.

    Dimeji was fun. He knew everyone, got invited to the hottest Lagos parties, and always had a new spot to try. 

    It was at one of these parties that I ran into Gbolahan’s friend and said hello. The next morning, he sent a text, “Who were you with last night?”. I didn’t have anything to hide, so I told him I had gone out with Dimeji. He didn’t like that at all. 

    He asked me how I would feel if I found out my boyfriend followed other women to the club. I was confused. I would be upset if my boyfriend did that, but Gbolahan wasn’t my boyfriend. I told him this, and he went silent.

     He showed up at my apartment unannounced later in the evening to confront me. He accused me of cheating and toying with his emotions. I reminded him that he was the one who said he didn’t want anything serious, but that only made him more upset. He told me he’d cut off everyone else because he’d started to take me seriously. He left not long after, still seething with anger.

    I broke things off with Dimeji that same night, but things have been strained between Gbolahan and me. He still feels betrayed, but I genuinely didn’t know we were exclusive. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but now I keep wondering about what happened. Should I have clarified my relationship with Gbohalan before getting with Dimeji? Was this my f— up?

    We’re creating something Nigeria has never had: a comprehensive, data-backed report on how young Nigerians really experience love, dating, marriage, and relationships.

    But we need your voices to make it happen. Whether you’re: single and navigating the dating scene, in a relationship trying to figure it out, married and living the reality, divorced and healing, engaged and planning your future, your experience matters. This survey is 100% anonymous. 

    Participate here to help shape the national conversation about love in Nigeria.

    ALSO READ: Na Me F–Up? My Sister-in-Law Got Too Comfortable, So I Sent Her Packing

  • In this economy, you’d think Nigerians would endure anything for a paycheck. But some work experiences are so unbearable that the only logical response is to stand up and never return. 

    From employers who think exposure is currency to bosses who believe work-life balance is a myth, these Nigerians didn’t wait for HR. They clocked out of the madness in real time. 

    “They wanted me to work six days a week for ₦65k” — Toluwani*, 28, M

    Toluwani knew he would never show up at a new job the moment he heard their ridiculous expectations.

    “Once the pay and workload don’t match, I mentally check out. 

    One time, I landed an interview where they said I’d work Tuesdays to Sundays, 8:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., for ₦85k a month. I was already irritated, but then they said I’d be on probation for the first two months, and earn only ₦65k during that time. The lady interviewing me was like, ‘You’ll learn a lot and meet new people.’

    First of all, I’m loved at home. There’s no way I’d leave Yaba for Osapa for less than ₦100k a month. I didn’t even argue; I just pretended to agree. The moment I left, I called my mum and we both laughed about how ridiculous the offer was. 

    I never showed up. When they kept calling, I blocked both the interviewer and the company’s page. I don’t regret it at all, good riddance!”

    “They wanted to kill me with work” — Esther*, 26, F

    Esther realised the salary wasn’t worth it when they tried to increase her workload.

    “In March 2023, I worked as a junior marketer at a digital marketing agency, and the job nearly killed me.


    I took on both marketing and administrative roles as soon as I resumed, because the previous admin had quit right before I started. I was working two jobs for one salary.

    The ₦400k pay made me stay, but the team was falling apart. People kept getting sick or quitting. I told myself I’d survive until December, but then the social media manager quit, and my boss told me to take over her duties too.

    When I complained that I couldn’t handle it, he sneered and called me lazy. He also said I wasn’t doing much for the company in a bid to guilt-trip me. I felt so tired and unappreciated, I cried on my way home. When I got home, I submitted my resignation and never returned to that office.”

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    “I knew it was time to go when my boss tried toasting me” — Dupe*, 27, F

    Dupe knew her time was up when her boss started harassing her.

    “I loved my job until I was forced to resign in mid-2024. I ran into my boss at a rave I’d attended with some friends. I didn’t even recognise him at first; he was the one who spotted me. I said hi and moved on, but the next day, his energy changed.

    It started with small jokes like, ‘I didn’t know you dressed like that outside work,’ and I’d laugh them off. Then he started suggesting dates, which I also brushed off. One day, around  April, he called me to his office after work., I thought it was work-related, but he started talking about how much he liked me and wanted us to date. I firmly refused his passes, but he made my life hell after that.

    Suddenly, all my work had faults. They even placed me on probation at some point. That’s when I knew my time was up. One Friday, I quietly submitted my resignation and informed them that I wouldn’t be coming back. 

    It pained me to leave a job I loved because my boss couldn’t control himself. I hope God punishes his bald head.”

    “I was so tired, I went home and didn’t look back” — Feranmi*, 27, F

    Feranmi got so overwhelmed that she simply walked away without notice. 

    “When I moved to Lagos in 2023, I got a job at a production company as the only video editor. They worked me to the bone. There were events almost every day, and I had to edit videos within three days. I was always behind, always anxious about Mondays, and spent weekends working.

    My boss never appreciated my effort. He constantly insulted me and told me to quit if I couldn’t cope.

    The day I left, I was so overwhelmed with work that I called my mum crying. She tried to console me and told me to come home to rest. It was like a switch flipped in my head. I went back into the office, lied that I had period cramps and left early. I  went straight to the bus park and hitched a ride to Ife. They called and texted for days at work, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t even collect my salary. I just needed to be out of there. I can never do work like that again in my life.”

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    “After my team lead embarrassed me, I left work and didn’t go back” — Bimpe*, 32, F

    Bimpe picked up her things and left after a public dressing-down at a company-wide meeting. 

    “I got my first big girl in 2017 at a family friend’s company. I’d just completed uni and was fine starting as a front desk clerk. I’d also planned to spend my service year in the company. After a short while, I noticed the head of the admin department didn’t like me. He constantly picked at me and found faults with my work.
    At first, I took it like a champ. I thought it was all part of learning on the job, but I was so wrong. 

    On my last day there, we had a general meeting where each team lead had to mention an area their team needed to improve on. When it got to my team’s turn, my lead mentioned me by name and said I’d never done anything right since I joined the company. 

    He blasted me so badly that even my teammates told him to stop. I was embarrassed and discouraged, and I almost cried. 

    When I got home, I told my parents I wasn’t going back, and they couldn’t convince me otherwise. It took some back and forth, but they eventually accepted my decision. 

    That’s how I left that job. I spent my service year teaching at a public school near my house instead. That one came with its own wahala, but it was better than the alternative.”

    Help Shape Nigeria’s Biggest Love Report! We’re asking Nigerians about relationships, marriage, sex, money, and everything in between. Your anonymous answers will become a landmark report on modern Nigerian love.

    Click here to take the survey. It’s 100% anonymous.

    READ ALSO: 6 Nigerian Women on Careers That Instantly Disqualify A Potential Partner

  • Some job titles instantly give women the ick before a single date can even happen. Not because the pay is bad or the work is unserious, but because dating Nigerian men in those industries has already given them premium headache. 

    From insane schedules to red-flag community behaviour, these careers have simply been blacklisted from romance. We asked Nigerian women to speak on the professions that instantly repel them from a potential lover, and they had interesting responses.

    “DJs and their unstable schedules are totally off limits” — Sarah*, 30

    After a brush with someone in nightlife, Sarah swore off anyone whose job involves late nights and endless parties.

    “If I hear you’re a DJ, I’m instantly friend-zoning you. I know what my eyes have seen. 

    In 2021, I dated a DJ who played at one of my favourite pregame spots. It was great at first: he had money and took me to fun places. But a few weeks in, I realised I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

    He was always outside. If he wasn’t playing a gig, someone was inviting him to chill at 2:00 am, and he’d expect me to come along. I work a 9-5, so it ruined my sleep schedule. Then there were the women who threw themselves at him, even in my presence. The worst part? He wouldn’t turn them down directly because he “didn’t want to be rude.” 

    One night, he left me at a smoke-filled house party with strangers to go pick up a friend.  He didn’t return for two hours. I was so tired the next day, I had to admit to myself it wasn’t sustainable, and I broke things off. I didn’t even have the energy to be sad. I first slept the entire weekend to recover my sanity.

    Now, I know I can’t handle it. I can be friends with a DJ, but I’ll definitely never date one again.”

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    “I can’t date anyone in the military” — Modupe*, 25

    For Modupe, one look at her uncle’s marriage was enough reason to blacklist men in uniform.

    “I’m not interested in dating any military personnel. In fact, the moment I hear you’re a paramilitary or have desires to join the army, I’m checking out.

    It’s mostly because of how I saw my uncle treat my aunt. He’d punish her like a child—, asking her to kneel and raise her hands like a baby. I can’t let anyone treat me like that. He also didn’t allow her to have any decision-making power in their relationship. 

    Another big issue was his constant absence. My aunt complained about wanting to grow their family, but couldn’t because he was always being deployed somewhere. Plus, imagine the constant worry of not knowing if your partner will come back home alive or in one piece.

    Abeg, it’s too much stress. Let the soldiers carry their wahala away from me.”

    “I have no desire to be ‘Mummy G.O.’” — Demilade*, 29

    After growing up as a pastor’s kid, Demilade has no intention of dating a man of God herself.

    “My dad pastors a small church in Ibadan, and let me tell you, I can never be with a spiritual leader. He wasn’t a bad father, but he was always emotionally drained. People came to him for prayers, advice, financial assistance, and deliverance. It never ended.

    It was a bit better when I was younger, before phones became more popular. But now? If it’s not a WhatsApp call asking to pray over a job interview link, it’s someone who has roped him into midnight prayers to fight against one spiritual battle or another. He takes it like a champ, but I’ve seen how it made him too tired to give the same attention to my mum or my siblings. It’s as if we support him to properly cater to his flock.

    I admire his work and dedication, but I knew for a long time that I’d never be happy partnering with someone like that. So when suitors talk to me, especially fellow Christians, one of my first questions is, “Do you plan to start your own ministry?” I need to know what I’m signing up for. I don’t want Mummy G.O wahala.”

    “I will never date a doctor again” — Faridah*, 30

    After dating a boyfriend she hardly ever saw, Faridah has sworn off doctors for life.

    “When I moved to Lagos in 2022, I met a handsome doctor at a bar, and soon after, we started seeing each other regularly. He was kind, sweet, and funny, but my main issue was that we hardly ever saw each other. 

    He was an OB-GYN, so most of his patients were pregnant women. That meant he could be called back to the hospital at any time— in the middle of the night, on a date, early in the morning; it didn’t matter. If the baby was coming, my man had to be there. 

    I admire his work, but I wasn’t having my emotional needs met. If he wasn’t at the hospital, he was sleeping. It was hard to say I felt neglected without sounding insensitive. It’s not like he was partying or slacking off; he was working.


    After we had to postpone our Valentine’s date in 2023, I knew I had to make the difficult decision to break up, which I did in April. I think you need to be very understanding to date someone like that, and I’m just not that person.”

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    “I can’t take a hypeman seriously” — Sade*, 27

    Sade hasn’t dated one, but she’s convinced a hypeman’s job is too frivolous to be taken seriously.

    “I can never date a hypeman. I’ve met a few and they’re extroverted and fun, but I find their job too unserious to take them seriously as partners.

    Don’t get me wrong, I love a good hypeman at a party; they keep the vibe alive. But I can’t imagine my man shouting ‘dorime no be for civil servants’ and see him as the one taking charge in our relationship. My friends think I’m reaching, but it’s just too much for me. 

    I think it’s the  yelling that turns me off.”

    “I can’t date any man who has to be offshore” — Tola*, 34

    After an unplanned long-distance relationship that didn’t work out, Tola is done dating men whose jobs require them to be away for extended periods.

    “I didn’t use to think a person’s job would affect how I saw them romantically, but a relationship in 2019 showed me a new personal boundary. 

    I started dating my ex in my final year in 2014. He studied engineering, so he had one more year in school. I did my NYSC in the same city, so we still saw each other often.

    After he graduated, he got a job in Rivers state, working on an offshore rig. At first, I was happy. The pay was good, and he loved his job. But soon it started putting a strain on our relationship. We didn’t plan to be in a long-distance relationship, so the sudden switch was uncomfortable. 

    There was hardly network on the rig, so we couldn’t communicate as much as I would have liked. But my biggest issue was how long he stayed away. I complained a lot at first, but I soon realised that I either had to accept the nature of his job or leave the relationship. I tried to manage, but the lack of communication, combined with the long distance, was too much to handle.

    Now, I can’t date someone who works on a rig again. Even if you’re busy, at least let me be able to call or see you when I need to.”

    Help Shape Nigeria’s Biggest Love Report! We’re asking Nigerians about relationships, marriage, sex, money, and everything in between. Your anonymous answers will become a landmark report on modern Nigerian love.

    Click here to take the survey. It’s 100% anonymous.

    See what people are saying about this article on social media

    ALSO READ: 3 Generations, 1 Question: Is Cheating a Deal Breaker?

  • Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

    Though she had her reservations about mixing work and romance, Hannah* (24) wanted to give dating a co-worker, Teniola* (25), a chance. 

    However, after only two months of Teniola’s inconsistencies, Hannah is glad that she kept their relationship a secret.

    In this Sunken Ships, she shares how their relationship began, the surprising call that caused it to end and why she’s never dating a coworker again.

    What’s the major lesson you learned from trying out an office romance?

    I learned that I should never try such a thing again. I just wanted to test the waters, I didn’t know it would lead to so much hurt.

    Tell me how it all started.

    Back in April 2025, I started a role at a new job. I noticed Teniola when I started because he was cute, but I wanted to keep things professional. Things changed in July, when Teniola* and I were assigned to work on the same project. We became very close and began chatting online and in the office every day. I liked his vibe, so even though I was hesitant at first, I allowed myself to indulge my feelings.

    What exactly drew you to him?

    Aside that we were working in close proximity, Teniola made it a point to compliment me every time he saw me at work. After a while, I warmed up to him. 

    Okay, so why were you initially hesitant?

    I wasn’t a big believer in office romance. I didn’t want to be caught in a situation that could make professionalism difficult. I also didn’t want any embarrassment at work, but I thought it would be different with Teniola.

    How did you guys start dating?

    In July, he asked me out in the cutest way on WhatsApp. He was learning a new language at the time, so he wrote a few words, asking me out on a date in French. Of course, I said yes.

    How did the date go?

    It was perfect. We went out to lunch and just talked. Talking to him was so fun, it was easy to agree to be his girlfriend.

    How were your early days together?

    They were great! He was everything I wanted. The only thing was that I insisted on us keeping our relationship a secret from our coworkers.

    Why? Was dating between coworkers disallowed where you worked?

    No, but I had heard many horror stories about office romances that went wrong, and I didn’t want my new colleagues to give me weird looks because we had ended things. I didn’t want the extra attention at all.

    So if you were keeping things lowkey and he was almost perfect, how did things go wrong?

    First, in September, I got taken off the project that had brought us closer in the office, so we weren’t spending as much time together at work. He had finished from Law School earlier this year and had his call to bar ceremony in October. I think he was overwhelmed with preparing for it. Between that and our new separation at work, our communication basically fizzled out.

    How did this make you feel? Did you try to talk to him about it?

    I felt really sad about our communication because our relationship was still new, so I tried to speak to him once about it. 

    Did he reassure you?

    No. He was very short with me and seemed stressed, so I kept my distance because I didn’t want to make him any more overwhelmed than he was. We went from long, winding conversations to simple “Hi”s and “Hello”s. It was weird.

    Wow. How did you put up with that?

    I figured that everything would go back to how it used to be when he was done with his Call to Bar ceremony, but othing changed. In the first weekend of October, he called me and gave me the worst news.

    What did he say?

    He beat around the bush but eventually said he wanted to break up with me. 

    Whoa, out of nowhere?

    Yes, I was so hurt and surprised. I agreed, though, and I was grateful that we had kept it a secret from the others at work. What hurt me the most, was how he treated me after.

    How did he treat you?

    He treated me like a complete stranger at work. He didn’t even respond when I greeted him.

    Ah. That’s rude.

    So rude. It annoyed me, so I gave him the same energy and kept my distance.

    Did he try to reach out to you after giving you the cold shoulder?

    Surprisingly, yes, he did. About a week after, he started sending me messages and calling me, saying he had made a mistake and wanted us to get back together. He even got one of his team members to come and beg me to respond to him.

    What did you do?

    I finally agreed to have a quick chat over lunch, and I told him I didn’t see us getting back together. He had done enough to hurt me, and I thought our relationship was better off just being professional.

    I love that you stood on business.

    I had to. I was already afraid of how office romances that go sour can affect you at work. I didn’t want to find out more about it. Working with a broken heart was already bad enough.

    Do you think you and Teniola could at least become friends again even if a romance between you doesn’t work in the future?

    No, I’m not interested. He’s a good colleague but nothing more than that.

    What about office romance? Do you think you’ll try again in the future?

    At all, o. I’m even more afraid of them now after my brush with Teniola. Please let work remain work. I can go and find romance outside.

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