Sunken Ships is a Zikoko series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.
Sarah* (23) and Timi* (24), moved from “friends of friends” to “close friends” because of their shared love for anime. But after his attempts to have sex with her didn’t work, their friendship crumbled.
Let’s start from the beginning
Sarah: Timi and I started off as friends of friends. We knew the same people and would occasionally see each other at events. Our interactions were “hello” and “hi” until March 2021, the day I met him at a friend’s place. I walked into them having an anime argument and joined in.
Then they started talking about an anime I didn’t have. Timi offered to send it to me with his hard drive. Shey if I had known what would happen between us, I’d have found another way to watch the anime?
What happened?
Sarah: He collected my number and later that week, called to ask if he could bring the drive over. It was a Saturday. The only reason I agreed was because I needed something to spend my weekend doing.
After he shared the anime with me, he started asking for updates on how it turned out and my conclusion on the earlier argument.
That’s how we got close. From ranting about anime to talking about non anime things, we became friends on our own.
What was the friendship like?
Sarah: It was pretty great. He was always there for me. I remember when he came to sit with me in my house because I had cramps and was scared of being alone. We read together, attended parties and were involved in each other’s lives. His younger sister and I kept in touch quite often.
We got so close in the span of four months people started making wedding and marriage jokes. It annoyed me whenever they did, but Timi always laughed and told me not to worry about it.
He became my best friend and the marriage jokes continued. I wasn’t surprised they thought like that. He was in my house a lot. Sometimes, when people come to visit him, I’m in his house half-naked. I cook for him and bring to his house. We go out together to watch movies or beach dates. I enjoyed spending time with him, but I didn’t want to date him.
He didn’t fit the bill for what I wanted out of my life. I love him to death but he can be a bit irresponsible. Plus, he’s the kind of person who’s a great friend but a terrible boyfriend, and it’s caused a couple of fights between us. I didn’t want to put myself through that.
Sarah: The first time he tried to kiss me. It was during a house party in February [2022] and he was drunk. Luckily for him, I decided I wouldn’t drink a lot, so I kept watching over him. At one point, I lost him when he said he was going to pee. When he finally resurfaced, he grabbed my face and said he missed me then he tried to kiss me. Since I was sober, I could dodge the kiss. He had a mini tantrum, talking about how he’s been wanting to have sex with me for a while now and I keep fucking everyone but him.
I was shocked because I barely had sex with anyone. I chalked it up to drunk hysterics and got us home. The next morning, he didn’t act like anything happened, so I dropped it.
The next time he tried something like that was two weeks later. I was cooking stew and he came behind me in the kitchen and started kissing my neck. I could feel his erection through his trousers. I felt weird so I pushed him off me with the excuse that I needed to use the bathroom.
Did you ever confront him about it?
Sarah: Not until the time he actually made a proper move on me in May. We were in the house together, drinking and watching a romantic movie like we do once in a while when he started rubbing my thigh. He was telling me how much he could treat me better than the men in my life, that’s why it was unfair I was sleeping with people who made me cry when he was right there. I told him to stop, but he didn’t remove his hand.
He kept trying to make me “see his side” — that he’s been here doing all of these things for me, why don’t I want to give him a chance? I told him I didn’t see him that way and he got angry. He shouted at me and that I didn’t deserve good things and stormed off.
Wow
Sarah: Na real wow o. I called him the next day to find out what was going on, but he didn’t pick my calls. I went to his house but he didn’t open the door for me. I was heartbroken because someone I thought was my friend was only around because he wanted to sleep with me? Did all the time we spent together mean nothing to him? I was heartbroken for months. My friends really rallied around me and helped me return all his property.
Did he ever try reaching out?
Sarah: Yes, he did. He texted to say he was sorry in September, but my best friend replied and told him to shove the apology up his smelling yansh. That made me laugh. He should go to hell.
Choosing friends is a big deal. Trust me, you don’t want the person holding all your secrets to wake up one day and decide not to have sense.
And if you already have a friend group, you’ll understand how important it is not to bring someone new who’d scatter your friendship dynamic. Ask new applicants these questions so you can make the right choice.
Semo or pap?
Trick question because there’s no right answer. If they pick either, they deserve to be locked up with their preferred option. Good riddance.
Will you take my side?
Imagine having a friend who you share gist about your foolish ex with, and they have the audacity to say, “I think your ex might be right, though.” What the actual heck?
Can you take fire pictures?
Your social media can’t contain selfies only. It won’t hurt to have another friend to help you get your best angles.
Like a wise person once said, “we rise by lifting others.” We all need a connected friend. They don’t even need to be rich rich. If they can score you extra meat at an owambe, hold them tight.
Do you have sense?
If they take it as an insult, they really don’t have sense.
Do you like advice?
Not the one that’ll complain about their cheating partner all day, but will still be ignoring your advice to leave them. They can even wake up and claim you’re the enemy of their weyrey lover.
Are you stingy?
Again, they don’t have to be rich. But a good friend should be able to share nice things with you, and vice versa.
Are you dramatic?
Make your choice based on the level of drama you can live with. Imagine being friends with someone who under or over-matches your energy. God abeg.
Friendships, like all relationships, sometimes get boring over time. That’s why, once in a while, you need to do things to shake the friendship a lil bit and add somespice.
Season your friend
If it’s the spice you’re looking for, you’re gonna get it. By the time you pourenough thyme and curry on your friend, the friendship will have enough spice for ten people.
Blood covenant
First person to leave the friendship will fall down and die. If you do it like this, you’ll both be able to take anything life throws at you.
Sleep with them
What better way to spice up a friendship than by throwing a little sex into the midst, for that extra razzle dazzle? Now, you’re not just friends, you’re friends with benefits.
Become their step parent
What’s better than friends? Family. That’s why becoming your friend’s step parent will definitely add a new dynamic to your friendship. Look at Alicent and Rhynaera; their friendship is definitely spicy now.
They might hate you for all eternity, or you might just be saving them from the worst marriage of their life. Either way, your friendship will never be the same.
Get a job where they work
Because being friends is not just enough. You’ll be closer than ever and the office gossip will make even more sense.
Move in with them
Whether they like it or not, they’ll have found a new roommate. Rent is kuku expensive.
Sunken Ships is a Zikoko series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.
Halimat* and Aisha* (both 21) live in the same estate, are from the same state and once shared the same interests. So they were bound to be friends. But after four years, distance strained the relationship and an act of mistrust caused it to end.
Halimat: My aunt had a shop in the estate where I lived. I occasionally helped her out, and it allowed me to meet a lot of people in the estate. Aisha was one of them. She was my age, and we were from the same state, so we kind of gravitated towards each other. We eventually got pretty close.
How close and why?
Halimat: Apart from the age and state thing, we had other things in common. We both went to Islamic schools, and our love for American music and YA novels made us outcasts there. Plus, we lived two minutes apart. We were able to see each other whenever we wanted.
We’d run errands together, listen to our favourite songs and talk about books. It was nice to have someone to share these things with since most of the other girls my age didn’t want to talk about things like that. There was a time we trekked the whole estate together because we were bored. I loved us doing silly things like that, and she felt like a sister.
That sounds great, but you’re here so something must have happened
Halimat: When it was time for us to enter universities, I got admission, but she didn’t. So I had to travel for school while she stayed back at home to do her A levels. One of my biggest flaws is once I can’t see you, I don’t care about you. Out of sight, out of mind.
She was also really busy with her A levels and the first year of university, studying Biology, was after my life. It was a new environment with very stressful courses. Whatever time I wasn’t using to study and attend classes, I was trying to rest.
The few times we did have a conversation, it was confusing. She’d reference people she met during her A levels, and I’d talk about people in school; we were out of the loop in each other’s lives. We went from seeing each other every day to barely speaking at all.
When ASUU went on strike, I thought that would remedy the situation, and I’d get my friend back.
Halimat: The first problem was I’d become a lot less lax with Islam. I stopped covering my hair and was very vocal about never doing that again. She, on the other hand, was still very modest. We still had the same interests so I could let some of her comments about me not covering my hair slide.
When I got back home, she came to my house, and we spent some time in the living room catching up. I told her about all the things that happened that session, and I included travelling to another state to see my friend. To put things into perspective, the trip cost me ₦1k, and I did it because there was a writing workshop in that state and my friend offered to house me.
When I told Aisha this, she blew up in my face, shouting at me for being careless and things like that. I was so confused because she was the same girl who travelled to see her boyfriend. What gave her the authority to speak to me in that manner? But I brushed it off and went to the kitchen to cook.
What happened next?
Halimat: Ten minutes after the conversation, my mum called me to the living room and started shouting at me, telling me the roads weren’t safe and I was putting my life at risk. I was confused at first, then angry. I’d taken those same “unsafe” roads for my grandma’s burial she wanted me to attend. So why was this different?
I didn’t say anything to her because of how angry I was. Afterwards, Aishat told me she only told my mum because she “cared”, but I wasn’t buying it. I told her something because I trusted her, not so she could tell my mum my business.
So you didn’t speak to her again?
Halimat: I did, but not by choice. A couple of days after the incident, my mother forced me to go to Aishat’s house to talk to her. Aishat had apparently been talking to her own mother about how I’ve refused to speak to her.
When I got to the house, her mother tried to remind us we were more than just friends, but I wasn’t interested in what they were selling. I spent very little time there and got back home. I told my other best friend about the situation, and he went to confront her. She got very angry because I was talking to other people about what she did, but I didn’t care for her anger.
What did you do?
Halimat: Nothing. I wouldn’t apologise because she’d betrayed my trust, and as a result, had forfeited any right she had over me.
Fair. Did she ever apologise?
Halimat: Once they called off the strike a couple of months later, she texted me that she doesn’t beg people who are angry with her, but she was putting her pride aside because she rates me. I told her congratulations and blocked her. That was such a half-assed apology; it annoyed me even more.
Did you talk again after then?
Halimat: Three years later, when my dad died, she came to my house for a condolence visit. It felt like she was trying to rekindle something, but I wasn’t interested. Not just because of what happened, but because I’d gotten tired of all the condolence visits. She stayed for 30 minutes, and it was awkward for everyone involved.
Do you think you’d ever be friends again?
Halimat: I don’t think so. I find it hard to trust people completely, but I trusted her and look what she did. I’ve forgiven her, but I’d never forget.
Sunken Ships is a Zikoko series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.
This week’s Sunken Ships subject, Angela*, talks about how her relationship with Tito* was built on arbitrary decisions. Throw in their age difference, recklessness, Angela’s fear of breaking Tito’s heart, and some ghosting; we have a Sunken Ship.
How did the both of you meet?
Angela: I’ve known Tito for exactly one year. We met on a random evening when my roommate and I were trying to buy some food for dinner. At the shop, we saw a friend with someone I’d never met before. So, we got introduced.
When we all got what we needed, I followed Tito and my friend back to their house. Rain was falling, but my roommate and I had drank a little, so I was feeling impulsive. Plus, their street wasn’t too far from where I lived, so if I changed my mind halfway, I could go back home with minimal effort.
The major reason I followed them home was because I wanted to talk to Tito. She looked so cool with her piercings and partly shaved head. She seemed like someone I’d get along great with, and it wasn’t a complete lie. By the time I was leaving their place though, she’d barely said a single word to me.
That sucks
Angela: The only time Tito spoke to me was when she asked for my snap. So every day since I left their place, she kept sending me snaps. Low-key, I was annoyed because, why didn’t she talk to me? What was I using her snaps to do? I eventually started replying out of boredom, and we got a snap streak going.
The next time we met was about two weeks after. It was at a party, and she was walking around with my friend because she’d drunk a lot and needed someone to watch over her. I think she was actually fine but thought my friend was attractive. Knowing Tito now, that’s the kind of stunt she’d pull.
Anyways, my friend and I ended up watching over Tito, and as the night went on, we danced together a bunch of times. Then, we kissed. There had been no discussion beforehand, but I blamed the alcohol, music and my loneliness. I shouldn’t have done it because we didn’t know each other, and we were in public, but I did it anyway.
Angela: We both went to our separate houses. It’s not like I’d fall in love with someone because of one kiss. We’d barely spoken more than three sentences to each other. She was just a mutual friend I kept a snap streak with.
Then?
Angela: Another two weeks later, she sent me a message that they were around where I stayed and wanted to say hi. I was bored and needed some company, so I agreed.
We talked alone for hours about everything from life to exes, school, work, money, etc. Having her alone made me realise how fun she is, and we didn’t realise it was getting late. They were about to lock my gate, so in the spirit of randomness, I asked her to stay. She did. She never left.
What d’you mean she never left?
Angela: Okay, she did leave and I’m being a bit dramatic, but she only left to shower and change clothes. It became a thing. She’d come to my room every night, we’d go on a long walk together, and she’d sleep over. Then, I got her a sponge, amongst other things, and she brought some of her clothes. That’s how she moved in with me.
You’re joking. Very Abuja-man behaviour
Angela: Everything about Tito and I’s friendship was random. Us sleeping together and with the same people, us living together, etc., was just a combination of random decisions and love.
Love?
Angela: Our falling in love was bound to happen. None of our friends were surprised when we told them. She’s kind, sweet, funny, caring, protective and reckless. A stellar combination that’d knock the socks off of any woman, and I realised how lucky I was to have her.
I don’t take care of myself a lot. Instead, I focus all that energy on caring for other people, but Tito brought me back to myself. She helped me be selfish and cared for me when I was too tired to take care of myself. She loved me and worshipped the ground I walked on. I was in my princess era with her.
Angela: She’s a year and some months younger than me. Now, it’s not illegal because we met when I was 20, and she was 18, but the age difference bothered me a lot. A whole lot.
It seemed like we were at completely different stages in life. I was rounding up university, and she was in her second year. I had a job, and she did a bunch of not completely legal things like dabbling in fraud and helping people move drugs around.
I’d say some things to her, and she wouldn’t get it, and it’ll make me realise how different we were. It didn’t allow me to take her seriously a lot of times. I’d only ever been with women older than me. This was different and not entirely in a good way.
Was it just the age?
Angela: It felt like she didn’t take life as seriously as I did. It’s okay to have a little fun once in a while, but it seemed like she always wanted to have fun. There were situations you’d expect her to be serious, but she never was. It was exasperating, and I constantly felt like a terrible person for reminding her she had to take things seriously.
I’d battle the guilt, we’d argue, have fantastic sex, and we’d try to move on. But the same issue will come up again. I was tired, and I didn’t realise how much until school closed because of the strike in February.
Angela: We don’t see each other anymore because we live in different states. She called a lot, but I started finding the calls annoying. I got a job, and she’d be calling me in the middle of a meeting or while I’m trying to cook or do some housework.
I found myself avoiding her calls a lot, which led to me ignoring her in general. I wasn’t replying messages or keeping in touch. She started dating someone, and her girlfriend tried to reach out to me. We were all friends so it wasn’t shocking, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t start ignoring her on purpose.
I’ve never broken anyone’s heart before, and I’ve never wanted to because I don’t like when I get my own heart broken. But I realised not talking to her meant I was breaking her heart. Yet I don’t know what to say to her or how to say it.
Would you ever talk to her again?
Angela: Yes, but I plan to put it off for as long as possible. I’ve not figured out the words or how to say. She loves me a lot, and it’ll hurt to tell her all these things. I’m low-key hoping she’d read this and get some closure. I’m a coward who does terribly with confrontation.
What about when school resumes?
Angela: It’ll be very awkward. I don’t even want to think about that, but I’ll try my hardest to avoid her. She has a key to my room and can take her stuff when I’m not there. So it’ll be easier for her to move on if she hates me. I’m okay with that.
Do you still love her?
Angela: Yes, I do. But love isn’t enough. I need security, assurance and someone who takes life as seriously as I do. I can’t get that from her, and that’s okay.
My Bro is a weekly Zikoko series that interrogates and celebrates male friendships of different forms.
Nnamdi and Yela both understand what position they hold in their friendship — one is dominant and outspoken, the other is a supporting character who chooses violence once in a while. This dynamic might prove difficult for some friends, but these two have figured out a way to complement each other and make it work.
In this episode of My Bro, they talk about surviving loss together, feeling guilty when one friend gets left behind and why they’re perfect for each other.
Let’s take a trip down memory lane
Nnamdi: My first recollection of you was around campus when we were in university. You used to sing at every opportunity, and it irritated me because you thought you were Bowen University’s version of Luther Vandross.
The first time we had a conversation was about 15 years ago at a cyber café in school. My phone rang, and you walked up to ask if you could get the ringtone. Again, I was irritated because I hate chit chatting with strangers.
Yela: I think your ringtone was John Legend’s Green Light. LOL. I love music, and most of the people in that school were sonically underdeveloped, so I gravitated toward many who shared the same musical taste.
I’d also seen you around school, always frowning in your black jalabiya. You had this presence that made you stand out every time you stepped into a room. It was intimidating. But I’m beginning to realise I’m attracted to dominant energy even in my platonic relationships because it allows me to take the backseat and fade into the background. That’s one of the reasons we work well as friends — you get the attention, and I can chill in a corner. Ying-yang.
Nnamdi: That’s why even though I was rude to you when you asked for the song, you just stood there shining your teeth.
We became friends when
Yela: I had a couple of friends in school before I met you. We hung out together, but none of them got my sense of humour. With you, I finally met someone who got my pop culture references and listened to the type of music I liked. We also joined a fashion organisation that put us in each other’s space all the time, so I got to know you more.
Finding out you lived in Abuja, just like me, also helped. You graduated and moved back before me, so when I returned to Abuja, you were the only person I knew from school. We hung out some more, and that’s when our friendship really started to grow.
Nnamdi: Yes! We were friends in school, but graduating, moving back to Abuja and living in the same city brought us closer. Our mums even got to know each other, and your mum, who doesn’t trust anyone around you, started to rate me because she knew I was raised by a church woman. If only she knew I was an insane person. LOL.
But If I have to pinpoint the moment I knew our friendship was the real deal, it’ll be when my mum had cancer.
He came through for me
Nnamdi: When my mum fell ill in 2011, I had to take up the responsibility of running her business. I didn’t know how to communicate my feelings, but you were there through all of it. You’d call me every day, ask if I was going to her office and follow me there.
We didn’t have to talk. You just kept me company at my mum’s office, assisted me with errands and things like that. It was the reassurance of knowing if I ever needed to break down or talk about my feelings, you were literally nearby. This is how our friendship has moved since then. We don’t have to talk about everything, but we know the other person is around.
Yela: I figured you needed someone, but not someone who’d be all up in your face forcing you to deal with feelings you weren’t ready to confront.
Nnamdi: In 2019, when my mum died, you were the first person I called. Even though it was my biggest fear come to life, I didn’t grieve like people expected me to. I think you cried more than me. Because of how calm I sounded when I broke the news to you, you called our mutual friends to come and check on me as I was in Lagos at the time.
From what I remember about the burial and the days leading up to it, you were at my house every morning at 7 a.m. You accompanied me to get a casket, and other things I never saw myself doing. It was a lot.
Yela: I thought you were going to hurt yourself because I knew how close you were to your mum. It was also triggering for me because I’d experienced losing my dad. I wanted to be like a cushion for you amid the chaos. It was a no-brainer for me. All I did was show up.
Nnamdi: And it worked because you gave me space when I needed it. Random, but another significant moment in our friendship has to be when we both tried to go abroad for our master’s. I got in, but you had to stay back in Nigeria.
Working out our friendship when plans fail
Yela: I remember we started the whole master’s journey together after school. We’d become tight then, so we planned how we’d live life when we moved to the UK. You got in, but unfortunately for me, I didn’t.
Nnamdi: I could tell it affected you, but you were trying to be positive so that I wouldn’t feel bad about it. Your mum called me while I was in the UK and told me, “You and Yela are more than friends. He’s your brother. No matter what happens, you have to carry your brother along.” She said this because you were apparently in a mood, and it has sort of guided the way I approach our friendship.
Yela: I was in a mood because right from the time we started, I could see you making strides, but nothing was happening for me. It wasn’t jealousy; I was sad because I wouldn’t be part of this grand plan we’d made.
Secondly, I didn’t have a job, so my life for about two years after university revolved around us hanging out. I became depressed at the thought of losing that for a while. I also felt this pressure not to make you feel guilty, so I tried to act like everything was fine.
Nnamdi: I felt guilty. I tend to feel that way when I have access to something, but I can’t share that access with you. This guilt made me overcompensate because I’d call you more than usual, so it wouldn’t look like I was having fun without you.
Even when I moved back after my master’s, I made sure I introduced you to all my friends so you wouldn’t feel left out. I did the most sha.
Yela: But, look, it all worked out. We’re here.
Understanding our friendship dynamic
Yela: Like I said, I feel like we work because my emotional frequency is the right fit for yours and vice versa. I understand when you want to shut off completely. I just show you that I’m here, and that’s enough.
While we’ve spoken about times when you bottled big emotions up, generally, you’re more outspoken than me. I hate confrontation. I used to be very passive-aggressive in our friendship, but you always want to address every issue so we can move on from it.
Your approach balances things out, but I’ve realised it’s unfair to burden you with trying to solve our issues. This also goes back to me preferring a relationship where I’m laid back. I’m working on ways to speak up when I feel upset or uncomfortable.
Nnamdi: I agree you don’t talk much when the issue involves us, and I tend to lead those conversations. But, omo, when it comes to defending me, you come through big time. As a big guy, people try to come for my weight—
Yela: And I fuck them up!
Nnamdi: Yes. And I do the same thing when people come for your music. Funny how I used to hate seeing you sing all the time in school. LOL.
Yela: The truth is, I don’t mind being a supporting character in this friendship. I mean, supporting characters still win Oscars and shit. The way I view it, we both don’t have to be at 100%. We don’t have to compete for air because we both know our strong points as individuals. Imagine if we had the same energy? It’d either be too dull (with my energy) or too chaotic (with yours).
What makes this friendship special?
Yela: I don’t know how to explain it, but our connection is different because I can tell you anything — even if you judge me. My life is better because you’re in it.
Nnamdi: I always say if I wouldn’t do something for you, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t do it for anyone else. I can talk to 100 people about a situation, but your opinion is what matters to me. You’re my voice of reason.
I recently saw a video about groups having reasonable and stable friends. I’m the problematic one who’s stubborn, and you’re the stable person who says, “Is this a good idea?”
The only time you’re problematic is when you’re in a relationship.
Yela: Wow. Nnamdi!
Holding each other accountable
Nnamdi: People don’t always know it, but you have a very hot temper, and your first reaction is usually to fight physically.
Yela: Exactly.
Nnamdi: I’ve noticed you come to report yourself to me before I find out you’ve fought outside. Like when you fought a soldier and called me from the cab. LOL.
I’m very honest with you when I think you’re wrong. My delivery could be better, but you know I don’t mean any harm. I’m just looking out for you.
Yela: You tell me I’m in the wrong all the time. I used to argue with you before, but I’ve realised you’re almost always right. I do the same too. When you have issues with someone, I show you where you fucked up. But the rule is we can criticise each other at home, but we must have a united front outside. To the death!
What holds this friendship together
Nnamdi: Our determination to enjoy life keeps us together. We want to eat at nice restaurants, travel, enjoy life, make money and be premium. We’re not where we want to be yet, but we’re on the way to that life.
Yela: We’ve seen each other at our worst, so now, we’re trying to live our best lives together. You’re the closest to what I’ll describe as my soulmate.
Nnamdi: Don’t forget we work with a “we” dream, not a “you” dream. Anything you want to accomplish gets added to my list and vice versa. We move together.
What would we change about our friendship?
Yela: Communication. I’m still working on being direct when I’m upset about something as opposed to being passive-aggressive or deep in my head.
Nnamdi: Communication for me too, but in a different way. I tend to be too direct. My tone might be a little aggressive when I’m pointing out something, but most times, it’s from a place of love.
Yela: Most times?
Nnamdi: LOL. Stop it.
I want you to know
Yela: Before I met you, I never had a dominant male figure in my life because I grew up with my mum. My friendship with you feels like a brotherhood, and sometimes, you’re like a dad figure to me. You’ve nurtured, protected and taken care of me. These attributes come with being someone’s family, and that’s what you’re to me.
Know that I don’t take you or our friendship for granted.
Nnamdi: I’m incredibly proud of your journey. It’s been a hard adult life. LOL. And I’m grateful most of my adult journey has been with you by my side through tragedy and successes. It’s been a blast! And it’s only going to get better.
Do you have an interesting bro story you’d like to share? Fill this form and we’ll get back to you.
Being unmarried is not even the top five worst things in the world, but when you’re the only unmarried friend, it just might be. I highlighted nine of the most difficult things you’ll relate to.
You have more aso ebi than you need
If you’re unlucky enough to have been friends before they started getting married, get ready to buy more aso ebi than you’ll ever need. You can’t stop buying because your friend’s wedding means a lot to them and you want to help them celebrate in whatever way you can. The more friends you have, the more aso ebi you’ll have to buy.
Friends use their spouses as excuses to miss hangouts
Instead of saying they won’t be able to attend an event with their chest, they start lying by using their partner’s name: my husband this, my wife that. You can see through it, but let it slide. Wahala for people wey no get marriage certificate.
Newly married friends don’t take your romantic relationships seriously
Because you’re not married, they start acting like you’re wasting your time with every new relationship you get into. Sure the relationship might not last more than a few months, but are they sure their marriages will?
Your friends assume you’re more emotionally available
As if you don’t have other things to spend your time doing. You just can’t sit down for hours and listen to them go on and on about their life.
Your advice no longer holds water
Even worse is when you try to give them helpful advice and they tell you, “You won’t understand.” Next time they come to you, use a shoe to stone them. Being the unmarried friend doesn’t mean you don’t have sense.
You may disagree more with your married friends
You’re at different phases in your lives, and it means your experiences are now different. It may lead to a lot more friction than there was before. Some may demand more from you than you’re willing to give, and vice versa.
After dodging the marriage questions and suggestions from family members, you’ll now enter your friend Whatsapp group and face the same thing from friends. They go on and on about marital bliss, and frankly, you’re tired of it. Even if you want to get married, the pressure is too much. Let everybody rest, please!
They’re always trying to hook you up with their other unmarried friends
At this point, you have to question your friends’ tastes or if they even know you at all. They just pick any random unmarried person and try to join you in holy matrimony, as if being single means you have no standards. Abeg abeg.
You’re the only one still invested in the friendships
Married friends may stop prioritising your friendship as much. Sure, their new family is important, but it often feels like you’re the only one putting in any effort in the friendships. You just want them to be able to try to reciprocate your energy. Is that too much to ask?
We’ve talked about the ways to show up as a good friend despite the unending grind of adulthood. But what happens when you have a terrible week and living up to the expectations is impossible? Are you automatically labelled the bad friend? Maybe you need to cut your friends some slack for these seven reasons.
Sometimes, work really chokes
If they can forget to feed themselves all day, they will definitely forget to call you back. Actually, they may not return your calls even after two weeks. It has nothing to do with you or the fact that you’re not important. It’s just the life they’ve chosen that’s sucking them dry. Send them food, and see if they won’t spend the rest of their lives stalking you.
Their current lives may be hard to explain
Trust me, no one loves the isolated life. They miss and love you too, but sometimes, it’s hard to articulate how difficult life is. Nobody wants to be a burden, so it’s easier to run away than to talk.
Maybe they’re broke
Everyone is tired of being called up for urgent ₦2k. Sometimes, a bad friend is really a broke friend who’s too ashamed to show face. Of course, they want to show up for your birthday brunch and party hard at the club, but it’s tiring to be the broke friend all the time. Being the bad friend that declines every invitation is much easier.
If your friend is a creative, a marketer or in any role that involves talking to people all day, they don’t even want to hear their own voice at the end of the day. So when you call, they’re too exhausted to listen. Sometimes, texting is all they can handle. That’s the bondage capitalism has plagued them with. Cut them some slack because it’s draining.
You trigger their anxiety
I’m that friend who watches her phone ring out to stay sane. If you consistently show up at my house or call to complain about my behaviour without asking why it’s easier to avoid you, I will ghost you. It’s triggering to hear everything you’ve done wrong when you’re really just trying to survive adulthood.
Half of the time people attack me for being a bad friend, I’m honestly just trying to sleep. These two-second weekends are barely enough to rest. There’s no time left over to hang out or gist. I don’t want to know my phone exists at that time. I’m asleep, so I’ll definitely miss one or two calls from you. It may be more, but who’s counting?
They just need time away
Whether it’s a baecation or time alone, adulthood calls for self-isolation to stay sane sometimes. The best thing is to give your “bad” friend time to explain where they’ve been or why you haven’t heard from them. veryone needs to disconnect from the stress of life sometimes.
Zikoko is launching a new series where we explore those friendships, familial and romantic relationships that are no longer sailing.
If you do 14 of the things on this list, your friends should cut you off like yesterday.
Questions
This is a question
Tick all the things you do:
You got #{score}/#{total}
Post a screenshot of this result and tag your friends. They owe you money for being such a great friend.
You got #{score}/#{total}
You’re not entirely a bad friend. You don’t deserve to be cut off just yet.
You got #{score}/#{total}
Your friends have a group chat where they’re planning how to cut you off. It’s happening soon.
Last week, we published a post that tells you why you might be your sibling’s bestie. This quiz would let you know for sure if you are your sibling’s best friend.
Take the quiz:
Select All That Apply To You:
You got #{score}⁄#{total}
Ah, it’s like you’re a wicked person and your sibling is scared of you. Change that behaviour today.
You got #{score}⁄#{total}
You’re not there yet but you could be, if you want to
You got #{score}⁄#{total}
Call your sibling today and tell them how much you love them, in fact, send them money too. You might not know it, but they really rate you!
