Dimeji* (34) thought helping his girlfriend settle into Lagos would bring them closer, but now, she’s thriving on her own, working at a short-let apartment that hosts Nollywood productions, and he feels like he’s being left behind.

In this story, he shares how jealousy, shifting dynamics, and the fear of being outgrown are pushing their relationship to the edge.

A sad looking man in the middle of the road.

As told to Adeyinka

I met Sandra* during a late-night Uber trip from the airport to Surulere. She had just moved to Lagos from Imo, and from how she sat in the backseat, looking around and clutching her bag like Lagos boys would snatch it from inside the car, I could tell she wasn’t used to this city.

She had no family here; just a cousin she barely spoke to, and she was still job hunting. I don’t know what made me care, but by the time I dropped her off, I had already offered to help her find her way around. Maybe it was because I had been new to Lagos once, too, or I already liked her judging from her physical appearance.

Sandra made it easy to fall for her. She showed up at my house with home-cooked meals and texted me randomly to ask things like, “Do you know a good plug for second-hand furniture?” or “How much should I be paying for this item?” She trusted my recommendations and relied on me when unsure about something. And before we knew it, we were dating. 

By her third month in Lagos, she got a job as a facility manager at a short-let on the Island, and even though it wasn’t the kind of work she wanted long-term, she liked that it kept her busy. I also liked that she wasn’t one to remain idle; she really wanted the best things in life, and that was a quality I admired in someone I could potentially spend the rest of my life with. 

Initially, things were easy between us. She was the dutiful girlfriend who gave updates about her activities even when I didn’t ask, and she only wanted to spend all her free time with me. Not until her job started getting rented out for low-budget Nollywood productions.

At first, I noticed she was just overly excited about the experience. She’d mention in passing that she saw some actor from a YouTube series or that one skit maker was shooting content there. Then, she started making small TikToks about it. Nothing serious — just short videos of behind-the-scenes setups, random moments of actors arriving at the short-let, and the occasional selfie. She didn’t have a big following, but people in the comments seemed to like the videos she posted.

At first, I ignored it. It wasn’t a big deal, really. And lowkey, I knew it’d be good if she blew up on TikTok. I know everyone isn’t there just for the fun; people also make money. But then I started noticing how animated she got when she talked about her work, how she’d play back her TikToks for me, laughing at things I didn’t find that funny. It wasn’t like she was suddenly besties with these actors, but it was how she engaged with them — so comfortable and at ease.

One night, she was scrolling through her phone, watching a video she had recorded with an actor goofing around while setting up a scene, and I just felt utterly irritated. She kept giggling softly to herself and even came to ask for ideas for the caption she should use. I remember saying, “Don’t you think you’re getting a bit carried away with this TikTok thing?” But she wasn’t having it. She went on and on about how she could build her TikTok page into a second source of income. 

Her explanation made sense, and I suddenly felt stupid for even bringing it up. She also mentioned that she wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, and I agreed. However, my worry at the time was that frolicking around could eventually lead to doing something she didn’t plan to do. 

Anyway, I let it go, but the feeling didn’t leave.

I wanted to be happy for her, to be the supportive boyfriend who didn’t let small things get to him. But some nights, I found myself scrolling through her TikTok, reading comments from strangers hyping her up, watching videos of her smiling at work in a way I hadn’t seen in a while. And the worst part? I didn’t know if I was just being insecure or if I was actually losing her to this new world she was building.

There was also the case of personal videos she started sharing on her TikTok page. Some of them were pretty revealing, but she hardly accommodated my complaints about them. 

I’ve tried to bring it up several times, but it always ends in arguments and silent treatment. The last time we had a conversation, she said she didn’t want to hold me back, and I’m free to walk away if it’s so hard to support her. 

That line of thinking made me realise we haven’t been on the same page for a while; it’s just taken me too long to notice. She thinks I’m being insecure, and maybe I am, but I also can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing her to this new version of herself. 

We haven’t spoken properly for about two weeks now, and I don’t know if we’ll return from this. I’ve concluded that she no longer needs me the way she did when she first moved to Lagos. And maybe it’s time to move on.


NEXT READ: He Cheated on Me, but I’ll Take Him Back in a Heartbeat

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