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.
When a friend’s secret pulled Joe* (46) into the heart of a marital crisis, he believed silence was the safest choice. He was wrong. His silence cost him the trust of everyone involved.
I met both Esther* and Moses* in university. Esther was my coursemate, and we became close after being paired together on an assignment. Her hostel was near mine, so we visited each other often.
In my third year, around 2004, I introduced her to my roommate, Moses. He saw her during a visit to mine and immediately said he liked her. Before long, they started dating, and in 2009, they got married.
After school, we all ended up in the same city, so our friendship continued naturally. Esther’s career took off quickly. We both studied finance, but she rose rapidly through the ranks and became the head accountant in a top firm.
Moses didn’t have the same luck. He never moved past his teaching job and struggled with the reality of being financially dependent on Esther. From what I observed, she tried not to make him feel less than. When she bought a car for his parents, she let him present it to protect his pride. However, despite this, he often confided in me, saying that Esther made him feel small, and she refused to support him when he tried to start a business. He believed she wanted him to remain reliant on her.
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I’d try to talk him out of those thoughts, reminding him of the many ways Esther helped him. But by early 2023, he became more vocal about wanting to “feel like a man again.” Then he started seeing Faith*, a young girl in her early twenties. They were in the same church unit.
When he confessed to me that he was sleeping with her, I was shocked. I couldn’t understand what he saw in Faith when he had a wife like Esther. However, he was an adult, and I didn’t encourage him or try to get involved. I simply stayed out of it.
Things got more complicated when he introduced Faith to Esther as his mentee. Because they were from the same hometown, Esther didn’t suspect anything. Moses even convinced Esther to help Faith secure a land deal that earned her a commission. It didn’t sit well with me, but I ignored all of it because it wasn’t my place to interfere.
Esther hardly had time for anything outside work, and Moses claimed she’d never notice his movements. But by March of this year, she began to notice small things that didn’t add up. One day, she came to me and asked if Moses was cheating on her. She said she had strong suspicions and had already caught him in a lie about his whereabouts.
I told her I didn’t think so. I knew how explosive she could be when she felt betrayed, and I believed I was choosing the least destructive option. I didn’t want to be the one to scatter their marriage. I was also thinking of their four innocent children in the mix.
Unknown to me, Esther didn’t drop it. She began investigating with her sister. They went through his phone, tracked his movements, and pieced everything together slowly. That was how she discovered that Moses had gotten Faith an apartment, furnished it, and gave her an allowance — all with the money coming from Esther.
A few weeks ago, she and her sister trailed him to the apartment. When Faith opened the door, Esther pushed her out of the way. They found Moses in the bedroom wearing only his boxers. What made it worse were the framed photos of him and Faith all over the walls, like they were a married couple.
Esther lost it. She slapped Faith repeatedly and tore her clothes. Then she and her sister turned on Moses. Faith managed to alert her neighbours and call the police, and they took Esther and her sister to the station.
Clueless about what to do, Moses called me. I rushed over, helped him with the police statement, and made sure Esther and her sister were released on bail with the condition that they wouldn’t threaten Faith again. That same day, Esther told him to move out, and he’s been begging to save the marriage ever since.
Afterwards, Esther confronted me. She wanted to know why I didn’t warn her. She said I let her walk into humiliation. I kept pretending I didn’t know anything, but at that point, it was obvious Moses had already involved me. She has refused to speak to me ever since.
Now my own wife is on her side. She went through my phone recently because she doesn’t trust that I’m not doing the same thing. She believes I covered for Moses because I’m also hiding something. It’s like everyone has decided I’m the villain in a story that has nothing to do with me.
I’m stuck, wondering if I made a mistake by staying loyal to my friend and trying to protect their marriage. Now, my decision has cost me more than I expected.
Trigger Warning: This article makes mention/reference to instances of self-harm and mental health struggles
Some friendships shift the entire direction of your life. They are the friends who arrive at the exact moment you’re falling apart and manage to catch you.
For this story, Zikoko speaks with people about the friendships that saved their lives at their lowest point.
From providing emotional support after heartbreak to offering free accommodation, these friends came through when they were ready to throw in the towel.
“Our friendship has become my salvation” — Vincent*,26, M
Vincent met his closest friend this year because their mutual friends insisted they’d get along. When they finally connected, they hit it off instantly, and their friendship has brought him back from the edge countless times.
“Dami* and I actually met because our mutual friends consistently kept recommending us to each other. I was initially sceptical, but one of us eventually reached out — I can’t even remember who. Our first conversation turned into a passionate two-hour debate about cinema and literature. When we finally met in person last year, it was as if we had always been friends.
They’re still saving my life. I’ve been dealing with a lot: family issues, money problems, and some very dark moments, and they’ve pulled me back from the edge more times than I can count. I can’t pinpoint a moment that stands out because they have been instrumental in saving me from myself more times than I can count.
There were times this year when they could tell I was about to harm myself. They preempted it and dragged me out of the darkness each time. It might not sound dramatic enough, but to me, that’s what salvation looks like.”
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“Every time I feel like the world is against me, she reminds me I’m not alone” — Eghosa*, 25, F
Eghosa met Timi, a friend of her crush, and what began as a tepid relationship blossomed into a friendship that has anchored her through tough times.
“We met on Twitter in 2018 through my crush. They were friends, and she constantly spoke about Timi, so I thought it might be good to know her.
My crush and I didn’t work out in the end, but you see Timi and me? We’re locked in for life. In the beginning, I thought she didn’t like me because she hardly replied to my texts, but we got over that hump, and I realised she’s my platonic soul mate.
In 2020, after my first relationship with a woman ended, I thought I was going to die. The heartbreak was almost too much to bear, but she called me every day and talked me down during those worst moments. Every time I felt like the whole world was against me, there she was, ready to show me it wasn’t true
When I started my business last year and was scared that nobody would support me, she was my very first customer. She spent almost ₦100k so I could believe in myself. She wasn’t even in Nigeria at the time. Each time I felt like giving up, she’d place an order or send a message reminding me I’m supported.
She’s one of the best things to ever happen to me. One time, someone asked why I didn’t move to her since we’re both lesbians. But what I feel for her is kind of spiritual; romantic love isn’t enough. My life isn’t enough. Loving her saved me and kept me alive. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”
“She housed me for eleven months when I first moved to Lagos” — Romade*, 23, F
From an online connection to a real-life friendship, Romade shares how her friend’s intervention in her life helped set her on a positive path toward her goals.
“We met on Twitter in 2022 and quickly became close friends.
At the end of 2023, I was battling post-uni exhaustion, depression and the absolute torture that was my NYSC year. My friend, whom I had never met in person, knew that I had big plans, and I just couldn’t move the needle on them. She single-handedly built me a CV from scratch and sent me opportunities from companies that offered roles I was interested in.
When I first moved to Lagos and was finding my feet, she housed me for 11 months. These things she did without flinching are a big part of why my life has taken a positive turn. I’m so honoured to be friends with her, and I would give her the world if I could.”
“They created a safe space within their community for me to heal and thrive” — Cynthia*, 27, F
Cynthia was very vulnerable after finding herself trapped in an emotionally abusive relationship and low on funds, but meeting her friend, Ayo, changed everything for the better.
“I first connected with them on Twitter, through a random comment. Our conversations quickly blossomed into dates, allowing us to get to know each other. This past year has been incredibly challenging for me. I faced severe financial struggles and found myself in an emotionally abusive relationship that felt impossible to escape without a strategic plan.
During this difficult period, they stepped in and offered me both financial and emotional support. They created a safe space within their community where I could share my experiences and speak my truth. As a loner, I couldn’t have fathomed how I would’ve managed to navigate such a tough time if I didn’t have their support. Their kindness and friendship have been a lifeline when I needed it most, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
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“My friend group is my lifeline in the middle of mental crises” — Tiolu*, 24, F
Tiolu shares how her friends’ intentionality about her mental health saved her from being consumed by her condition.
“I find myself in a quartet I call my small constellation. In 2021, after a painful fallout with my old friend group, I found myself completely alone.
That same year, I was fighting a long-standing battle with bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. They almost swallowed me whole. I cried every day, questioned my existence, and self-harmed because it felt like the only release I had. I had even started thinking of creative ways to unalive myself. I felt alone and like I had no one to talk to.
But quietly, they came into my life.
We began as a study group, with one person meeting once a week to review class material. Then it became random visits to my room and walks to class together. One person joined, then another. I honestly couldn’t tell you when the third person joined in. One day, I looked around and realised it was the four of us together.
They’ve shown up for me so gently and consistently that I didn’t even realise I was loving being alive again. I found myself looking forward to their visits, texts, and study group to do assignments.
Throughout that year, I was in and out of the psychiatrist’s office, exhausted from fighting and losing the fight over my own mind. On the days I couldn’t speak, they sat with me in silence. We cried together, laughed together and made very dark jokes about going together. They never got tired and never made me feel bad for being myself.
It was the first time in a long time that I felt safe. It might’ve seemed small to them, but our silly little games kept me together. I would tell myself, ‘I promised them I’d show up, so I can’t die today.’
I love them with all my being, every last corner of it. They became my reason to live that year, and they still are today.”
Sultan*, 26, thought that starting an Airbnb venture with his closest friends would bring them closer together. They’d done almost everything together since university, from surviving exams to figuring out life after school. But a few months into starting the business, with bookings low and tempers high, he realised money could test even the strongest friendships.
As told to Aisha Bello
When I first conceived the idea of starting an Airbnb business with my friends, it wasn’t really about the profit. I just wanted to feel that kind of closeness we had back in school when life was simple, and it felt like the world was waiting for us to win together.
There were five of us. We met in our first year of university, and from that point on, we did almost everything together: reading, attending parties, sharing food, and covering each other’s bills. We built a rhythm of trust that never really broke, even after graduation. I was the glue in the group — the one who remembered birthdays, kept the group chat alive, and always found one excuse or another to make us gather.
After school, life moved fast. Everyone got busy; some relocated, while work consumed others. But in 2023, a year after graduation, we managed to pull something off together. The iPhone 15 had just been released, and we decided that everyone deserved to own one. We contributed ₦150k monthly for one person each month until everyone got theirs. Five months, five iPhones. It worked perfectly. It made me believe that joint ventures were the future. I remember saying, “See? If we can do this, imagine what we could do with real investment.”
That thought stayed with me.
***
By January 2024, I began to feel the distance. The group chat had gone quiet. Nobody was initiating hangouts. I thought maybe we needed something bigger to keep us bound. Something that wasn’t just vibes but a project we could all pour energy into.
That’s when I brought up the Airbnb idea. I had been seeing people on Twitter and YouTube talk about shortlets and passive income. It sounded like the kind of big move we could pull off. Plus, I work remotely, so I had time to manage the daily runaround. Everyone else had corporate 9–5s in banking, consulting, and agencies.
The idea caught on faster than I expected. I handled market research and scouted locations. Eventually, I found a 7-bedroom house in Kano owned by a family that had relocated. We got the apartment on a three-year lease for ₦5 million, which felt like a steal at the time. Everyone in the friend group agreed to contribute ₦1 million each, paid in ₦200k instalments over six months.
The owner agreed to our instalment plan, so we made payments monthly, and the property would only be handed over once we’d completed the full amount.
The place was old but solid: white walls, wide corridors, iron gates with peeling blue paint, and an open yard that we could easily turn into a small garden.
I was proud. This was something tangible we could point to and say, “We did that.”
The first two months went smoothly. Everyone sent in their contributions. The group chat was active again — ideas flying about how to design the rooms, what name to give the property, even how to scale it to Abuja later.
Then the delays started.
By the third month, one person missed their payment. Another said he was “sorting some personal things.” I had to start sending reminders; small nudges at first, then direct calls. It started feeling like I was begging grown men for money they had already promised. When I brought it up in the group, it led to a small argument about responsibility, tone, and “the way you talk like we’re your staff.”
It hurt because that wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to keep us accountable. We eventually resolved the issue, and everyone paid up. By June 2024, the lease payment was complete.
But that was the easy part.
The real trouble started when we went live.
***
We listed the property on Airbnb, set up a social media page, and even built a simple Wix site to give it a professional look. We priced it at $45 per night, about ₦65k. On paper, it made sense: if we secured just 15 bookings a month, we’d cover all expenses and even make a profit. We raised an additional ₦500k to furnish the place with basic items, including curtains, rugs, interior decor items, and a few wall frames that featured phrases like “Home is where your story begins.”
Then, silence.
Weeks turned into months with no bookings. Perhaps it was the season, the location, or maybe we overestimated demand. We got only five rentals for the rest of the year, with most of them in December.
Everyone got restless. Messages became shorter. I could sense irritation in their tone, with subtle jabs like, “So what’s the update?” or “You sure this thing dey move?”
I tried everything: tweaking pricing, taking better photos, and cleaning the rooms myself. The electricity bills, repairs, and maintenance costs continued to accumulate. I was paying cleaners and security out of pocket. I didn’t mind at first. I thought that if we could just get through the slow phase, everything would fall into place.
By the start of 2025, one of our friends who lived out of town started demanding his capital back.
***
It felt like betrayal.
One even said, “Bro, if you knew you couldn’t handle it, you shouldn’t have rushed us into this.”
I felt something collapse inside me.They had trusted me with the legwork but never wanted the weight of the work. They wanted returns, not responsibility.
By March 2025, the group was fractured. Some stopped replying to my messages. One quietly removed himself from the WhatsApp group.
That’s when I decided to move into the house. It was empty anyway, and I was tired of paying rent elsewhere. So I packed up and came here.
Living here has been strange. It’s too quiet. Sometimes, when the wind blows through the corridor, it echoes like a reminder of what once was. The rooms are neat but lifeless. The space that was supposed to host guests from all over now holds just me and my regrets.
Occasionally, one or two of the guys who still live in Kano come around to stay the night, but the energy is never the same. Conversations are awkward. Everyone pretends to be fine, but there’s a wall now.
The irony is that the house is beautiful when it’s full, laughter bouncing off the walls, music spilling from someone’s phone. But those moments don’t last.
***
This year, we have had only two rentals, one in April and another in July. After that, nothing. I’ve even stopped trying to market it.
Some days, I think about refunding part of their capital just to find peace, even though no one asks about it anymore. It still hangs over me. On other days, I wonder if I should just rent it out to a family for the rest of the lease and relocate to another city to start over.
What I didn’t realise when we started was how fragile friendships can be when money enters the equation. We trusted each other, but we didn’t plan. There was no documentation, no contract, no clear expectations, and no exit strategy in place. We built everything on vibes and history.
I used to believe that business would bring us closer together, that success would strengthen our bond. Now I know that failure tests friendship more than anything.
***
There are nights I sit in the living room, lights off, just staring at the faint glow from the street lights outside. I scroll back through our old group chat sometimes — the jokes, the plans, the voice notes filled with excitement. It’s almost hard to believe we were that close.
We used to call ourselves “The Syndicate.” Now, we’re just strangers with a shared loss.
I don’t hate them. I just wish things hadn’t ended like this; maybe if I’d been more patient, less desperate to make it work, a little less hopeful.
For now, I’m still in the same house we all paid for, surrounded by the echoes of what we built, something once beautiful, now quietly broken.
Is love sweeter when there’s money? Help us understand how love and finances really mix in Nigeria. Take the survey here.
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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.
After 13 years of friendship, Gina*(25) didn’t expect her best friend would end up with her ex, especially after everything she knew about their history. When it happened, it forced her to question what loyalty really means between friends.
This is Gina’s dilemma, as shared with Mofiyinfoluwa
Nancy and I have been friends for almost 13 years. We met in secondary school, went to the same university, and did practically everything together. Over time, she became more like family than a friend.
In our third year of university, I met Davis*. I’d had a crush on him for a while before we eventually started dating, and Nancy saw everything — from the talking stage to every high and low that followed.
I really liked Davis, but he was emotionally unavailable. He was a scholar and a member of the school union body, and while that sounded impressive, he used it as an excuse for everything. He was always busy with school activities and never had time for me. Whenever I complained, he guilt-tripped me into believing I was the problem because I didn’t understand his goals or how hard he worked.
It was frustrating because I value quality time. I felt emotionally neglected, and even though I cared about him, I knew the relationship wasn’t working. I often complained to Nancy, and she helped me see the truth. She pointed out the lack of communication, the manipulation, and how drained I’d become. She always reminded me that I deserved better and didn’t have to settle for someone like him. I finally took Nancy’s advice in 2021. When Davis refused to compromise, I ended the relationship. It was painful, but I moved on and cut off all contact with him.
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After school, life went on. I got into a new relationship and left the Davis drama behind. Then, earlier this year, Nancy mentioned she ran into him. Their offices were close, and she’d reconnected with him. I didn’t think too much of it at first, but I still wondered why she’d even acknowledge him or get his contact, knowing how much he had hurt me.
By April, I noticed they spoke more often. She’d casually mention his name in conversations, and it made me uncomfortable. Still, I didn’t say anything. I brushed it off and convinced myself it was fine if they were just friends.
Then, one day in July, Nancy sent me a picture, and I noticed a pile of packages in the background. When I asked about them, she casually said they were from Davis — then added that he’d asked her out and they were now together. I was stunned. I had no idea they’d gotten that close. When I asked why she hadn’t told me, she said she didn’t think I needed to know since I’d moved on. I couldn’t believe it. We were supposed to be close, yet she kept something that major from me.
I tried to play it cool at first, but it hurt more each time I thought about it. This was the same person who’d seen me cry over this man and even encouraged me to leave.
When I looked back at the chain of events, I noticed a pattern. Over the years, Nancy mirrored me in small ways. If I bought a new phone, she’d want the same one. If I picked up a new hobby or did something exciting, she’d suddenly become interested too. I’d always brushed it off as a coincidence, but her recent action solidified my suspicion.
Because I was so upset, I confided in one of our mutual friends. I wanted to make sense of everything. Unfortunately, that friend went behind my back and told Nancy I’d said she was copying me. Everything blew up from there.
Nancy confronted me and accused me of gossiping about her. She said if I had an issue with her dating Davis, I should’ve said it to her face instead of spreading malicious rumours that made me look jealous. I tried to explain that I wasn’t jealous, I just expected her to respect boundaries. I reminded her that she’d been there through my relationship with Davis and knew how badly it ended.
But she flipped it on me. She said it’d been four years, and that I should’ve moved on. She insisted Davis was more mature and that what they had was different. Then, out of nowhere, she said I’d misunderstood him back then.
What hurt most was when she asked if I didn’t want her to be happy, especially since I’m already in a relationship. That comment stung, and before I knew it, we exchanged some really hurtful words.
Since then, our friendship hasn’t been the same. We barely talk. Sometimes, I wonder if I overreacted by feeling betrayed, but deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that she crossed an unspoken line no one crosses when you truly care about your friend.
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.
Maliq*, 24, moved in with his longtime friend and soon discovered a reckless lifestyle that tested his patience. One moment of frustration led to an impulsive call that changed both their lives. Now, he’s left questioning whether his good intentions can ever justify the betrayal.
This is Maliq’s dilemma, as shared with Mofiyinfoluwa
I’ve been friends with Amin* since university. We lived in the same hostel and stayed close even after our graduation in 2022. His life looked perfect online — endless parties, designer clothes, and constant fun. His US-based dad sent him money regularly, so even though Amin never had a job, he lived comfortably and never worried about anything.
Late last year, I got an average-paying job in Abuja and couldn’t afford my own place. Thankfully, Amin offered me a room in his dad’s duplex. There was free food, Wi-Fi, and a house cleaner — everything paid for by his dad. At first, it felt like a blessing, but living with him made me see how reckless his life was.
He told everyone he was bettering himself by taking tech courses online, but all he did was sleep all day, party all night, and spend beyond his means. Despite getting over ₦300K monthly allowance from his dad and extra cash from his party gigs, he still borrowed money from me.
I couldn’t complain because I stayed in his house rent-free, but it annoyed me. Why did I have to give him my hard-earned money when he had more than enough? He kept borrowing small sums from me, and though he always paid back, I hated how he spent on things I didn’t even have the luxury to buy for myself.
A while ago, he borrowed ₦50k again. This time, I asked for the money earlier than we agreed because I knew it was going into another wasteful purchase. Amin got defensive and called me broke. I lost my temper and called him a spoiled brat who would never amount to anything. He said I was jealous and paid the debt. Then, he said he no longer felt comfortable accommodating me and asked me to leave by the weekend. He knew I had nowhere else to go, but he didn’t care.
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I called his dad and told him everything. I exposed how Amin skipped his courses, wasted money on drinks and parties, and did nothing meaningful with his life. I thought I was showing concern and that his dad would handle the situation calmly, even letting me stay in the house.
Instead, things quickly got out of hand. His father cut off his allowance, cancelled his plans to bring Amin to the US, and even sent people to lock up the house. Then he insisted that Amin move to Minna to stay with his uncle.
When Amin found out I was the one who told his dad, he blocked me everywhere. He called me a betrayer, who was pretending to be a saint when I had also taken part in his lifestyle. Our mutual friends took his side. They said I’d destroyed his career as a party organizer and forced him to move to a small town out of jealousy and bitterness. I believe I did it because I cared. It’s not my fault that he had to face the consequences of his actions. But now, I can’t tell if my actions backfired and I’ve completely ruined his life instead.
There’s a kind of love that blinds people so deeply, only others can help them see. But how far would you go to help someone leave a toxic relationship?
While some people prefer to stay out of messy situations, others step in and take matters into their own hands. We asked Nigerians to share the most extreme things they’ve done to help their loved ones finally walk away.
“I staged a fake prophecy with her mum” — Temi*, 30
My closest childhood friend was in a relationship that was all kinds of wrong. She’d become so dependent on this guy that he controlled everything, from her finances and looks to even the birth control pills she used. I realised how bad it was when she started reacting to the pills, breaking out and gaining weight, but said she couldn’t change them without asking him first. Watching her lose herself was hard, so when she told me he wanted her to move in permanently earlier this year, I decided to involve her mum.
I called her mum and told her everything. It felt like a betrayal, but I was genuinely scared for her. Thankfully, her mum was calm, discreet, and came up with a plan that still cracks me up whenever I think about it. She knew her daughter wouldn’t listen to anyone directly, so she decided to use her faith.
They attend a white garment church, and my friend takes prophecies very seriously. So her mum told her that during a prayer session, one of the prophets received a vision about her relationship. Using the details I’d shared, she described the boyfriend — his looks, habits, and temper — in ways that made the whole thing sound completely divine. Then she told her the prophecy warned that staying with him would lead to barrenness and eventually death.
To my surprise, it scared her enough to take it seriously. After months of hesitation, she finally ended things with him. To date, she has no idea we made the whole thing up. I still feel a bit bad about how far we went, but I don’t regret it.
“We catfished his girlfriend” — Sam*, 26
For a long time, my cousin has been in a relationship with a woman who doesn’t want anyone around him. Everyone in his life is a threat to her. Visiting them became uncomfortable because of her attitude. The last straw for me was hearing that she’d been telling her friends she was only with him for his money and planned to dump him when she was done. She also berated him in public and was verbally abusive. My cousin had become a shadow of himself, and it was painful to watch. No amount of talking could make him leave her.
Since he refused to believe anything I said, I decided to prove it. My friends and I planned an intervention. We got one of our guys who she didn’t know to start flirting with her. It didn’t even take a month before she was fully invested, asking for money and talking about hooking up. We took screenshots and sent them to my cousin with an explanation of what we had done.
I expected him to understand our intentions, but instead, he got angry. He accused us of sabotaging his relationship and even cut off the friend we used. They’re still together, and at this point, I’m convinced she’s charmed him. I’ve completely washed my hands of the situation.
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“We hired boys to beat him up and blame her” — Fathia*, 24
When we were in uni, my roommate was stuck in a toxic situationship that had gone on for over a year. It was emotionally manipulative and sometimes violent. She’d come to me crying and asking for advice, but no matter what I said, she always went back to him. It was frustrating to watch. I couldn’t understand why it was so hard for her to leave.
One time, after a fight, he slapped her so hard her face was visibly swollen. Her braids were also pulled out. I was angry but didn’t know what to do. Eventually, I vented to one of our mutual friends, who’s a bit of a street guy. He got furious and said he’d send some boys to deal with the guy. I thought he was joking, so I laughed and said maybe they should pretend they were sent by one of her other men, just to scare him off for good.
I didn’t know he took me seriously until a few weeks later, when he told me his boys had gone through with it. They’d gone to the guy’s apartment and beaten him up, then sent me pictures of his swollen face. I was horrified but also satisfied.
It didn’t take long before the guy accused my friend, calling her a slut and threatening to report her to the police. Even though she swore she knew nothing about it, he refused to believe her and ended things. She was heartbroken for a long time, but I stayed by her side, pretending to be as shocked as she was. Deep down, I was just relieved she was finally free.
“I lied to keep them apart” — Rose*, 28
In 2017, my friends got into a relationship. The girl was my friend first. Since we all schooled together and shared similar hobbies, I became close to her boyfriend, too. Before long, I was practically their third wheel.
It didn’t take long to realise they were terrible for each other. They fought constantly, dragging me into every argument; from texting too much to liking other people’s pictures. He was jealous and controlling, and the drama was exhausting.
Once, they embarrassed me in the cafeteria, screaming at each other like a Nollywood couple until she stormed out crying. Everyone stared. Still, no matter how bad it got, they always found their way back to each other. They broke up and made up so often I lost count.
I was relieved when their most serious breakup happened in 2018, and they blocked each other. But months later, he texted, saying he still loved her and wanted my help to win her back. I was desperate to keep them apart, so I lied. I told him she’d moved on, met someone new, and even had an abortion, hoping it would end things for good.
Instead, it made him worried and even more determined. I panicked and confessed to her. Thankfully, she found it hilarious and agreed to play along. When he finally reached her, she acted out the story. It worked. He gave up and moved on. Years later, I’m just grateful my lies didn’t backfire.
“I drove across cities around midnight to help her leave” — Nengi*, 43
My younger sister was in a terrible marriage. Her husband beat her and the kids constantly. Whenever she called, I felt helpless. I’m a widow with three children, and she has four of her own. We lived many hours apart, so there was only so much I could do from afar.
In 2021, after another beating, she told me she was ready to leave. It was 8 p.m., but I didn’t think twice. I left my children at home, got into my car, and drove almost three hours to her house. Looking back, it was reckless. I’m a woman alone, and he’s a big man. My confrontation could have gone very badly.
When I got there, I told her to pack immediately. He said if I was taking her, it had to be with the kids and only the clothes on their backs. Still, we left for my place. I drove through the night, and we got home a few hours before dawn.
My house is a one-bedroom apartment. After that night, there were nine of us in that tiny space. It was chaos. Feeding was hard. My kids had to switch to public school so we could survive, but I refused to let her go back.
Now things are better. We’ve saved enough to start a small business for her, and she’s getting back on her feet. Her husband still refuses to take responsibility for his family, but I’ve stopped caring.
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.
Wunmi* (27) thought burying what her friend’s fiancé did would help her move on, but with the wedding fast approaching, she’s torn between speaking up to protect her friend and letting sleeping dogs lie.
This is Wunmi’s dilemma, as shared with Mofiyinfoluwa
Bola* and I have been friends for years. We met as roommates in uni, and even years after graduation, our relationship grew into a genuine friendship. She’s one of the kindest people I know—loyal, protective, and deeply caring. Early last year, she started dating Kola*.
From the start, Kola seemed nice. He was funny, generous, and always offered to buy us things whenever we hung out. He came across as the overly friendly type, but I didn’t think much of it. Looking back, I realise some of his jokes and flirtatious comments weren’t as harmless as I thought.
Anyone could tell Bola loved him deeply. She always gushed about him, even though she sometimes complained about the number of women around him. She insisted he wasn’t cheating and that they’re just drawn to him. I never saw any reason to doubt her or think too much about it since she seemed happy.
One evening in April, I was returning from my tailor’s place when it began to drizzle. I was heading toward the main road to find a vehicle when someone called my name. It was Kola. I was pleasantly surprised because I hadn’t realised he lived nearby. We exchanged a few words, and I jokingly asked him to lend me an umbrella since his house was close. He told me to come get it, and since his house was close, I followed him.
When we got to his apartment, I hesitated to go in, but he urged me to sit inside and wait out the rain. There were no chairs, so I sat at the edge of his bed, already feeling uneasy. Then, without warning, he lunged at me.
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I fought back with everything I had, kicking and biting to get him off me. He tried to calm me down, but I kept screaming. Then someone knocked on the door, probably because of the noise, and that distraction saved me. While he was flustered, I pushed him off and ran for the door. I told him that if he didn’t let me out, I would scream even louder. He warned me not to tell Bola before finally opening the door. I ran out so fast I didn’t even take my shoes.
For days, I was numb and confused. I didn’t know whether to report to the police or even tell Bola. The thought of explaining everything over and over again exhausted me. I also had no evidence or witnesses to back my story, so I only told my sister. She was furious and suggested I tell Bola.
But I couldn’t. Bola cut people off for less and once dropped a mutual friend because she thought the girl lied about something minor. I’ve seen firsthand how she fiercely defends Kola. If I told her what happened, would she believe I ran into him by coincidence? Wouldn’t she think I intentionally went to ruin her relationship? As hard as it was, I couldn’t predict her reaction, so I kept it to myself.
I tried to quiet my guilt by hoping their relationship would eventually end. But they’re now engaged. The wedding is next year, and she keeps involving me in her preparations. Every time she talks about the wedding, my chest tightens.
I keep thinking of excuses not to attend, but I can’t shake the guilt of not protecting her from this man. She’s been there for me through hard times, even covering my half of the rent in school when I couldn’t afford it.
Still, I’m scared of what speaking up might cost me. It could mean losing her friendship or being seen as a liar trying to ruin her wedding. I’m also afraid that reliving the trauma might not be worth it.
After Tobi (25)* fell hard for his best friend of 14 years, their simple friendship stretched into years of quiet longing, jealousy, and eventually, heartbreak. He opens up about falling for his closest friend, how it affected his other relationships, and how it cost him both the romance he wanted and the friendship he cherished.
What’s your relationship status, and how do you feel about it?
I’m currently single. I’ve spent several years secretly in love with my closest friend, but I’m finally learning to accept that it may never lead anywhere.
Oh. How did things get to this point?
I’ve known Mimi* for as long as I can remember, but our friendship started in 2011. We attended the same church, and that year, our families grew close. We both went to the same boarding school in Osun, and our parents took turns picking us up for holidays. We soon became fond of each other.
From the beginning, Mimi was the charismatic one. She was smart, beautiful, and popular. I was the quiet, awkward boy who mostly kept to himself. I got bullied sometimes, but Mimi always stood up for me. She never acted like she was too cool for me, even when surrounded by people who were.
Through secondary school, she dated the popular boys while I watched from the sidelines. I started liking her toward the end of school. At first, I thought it was a minor crush that would fade, but it didn’t.
We graduated in 2017, and I started thinking about confessing my feelings. But before I could, she pushed me to chase Ann*, another girl from our church who was going to the same university I’d applied to. I figured dating someone else would help me move on. Ann and I got into a relationship later that year.
How did the relationship go?
It was good at first. We already knew each other from church, so everything flowed easily.. We did everything together, and for a while, I my feelings for Mimi.
Ann and I dated for almost three years. We had our small disagreements over the friends she kept, but overall, we were good together. It was my first real relationship, and I held on tightly.
Things changed when she got a scholarship to study in the Netherlands. She’d always planned to leave because our university offered her a course she didn’t like.
When she finally left travelled at the end of 2019, we promised to keep things going. But almost immediately, we drifted apart. One day, she just stopped responding and ghosted me. I haven’t heard from her since.
That must’ve been tough.
It hurt badly. The pandemic came soon after, and being isolated made it worse. I was in my third year and just sank into depression.
During that period, Mimi and I reconnected. She’d just gotten out of a relationship, and we started spending more time together. We’d hang out on Sundays after church and talk for hours. Slowly, all the feelings I thought I’d buried came rushing back.
I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure if it was a rebound or if I still genuinely liked her. Still, I started dropping hints. I’d send reels and stories about people falling for their best friends and ask what she thought. She always laughed them off.
Then at the start of 2021, she got into another relationship.
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Shoot. How did that make you feel?
When she first told me about him, I smiled and said I was happy for her, but inside, it felt like someone had punched me. I tried to pull away, but it was hard because we’d grown so close.
Idris*, her boyfriend, was older and already working. He had money, and I felt jealous but uneasy — something about him didn’t sit right with me.
As their relationship progressed, it became clear he wasn’t good for her. He was manipulative and always promised to change after every fight or cheating incident. She’d call me crying, but refused to leave because she believed he’d change.
I didn’t judge her. I just listened because I didn’t want her to stop confiding in me. I liked that I was always the first person she ran to with her issues and that I knew more about her than Idris ever could.
In 2022, she called one night, crying because Idris insulted her for checking his phone. I was watching a match, but rushed to her apartment. She cried until she fell asleep on my shoulder. That night, I don’t know what possessed me, but I took her phone and texted her boyfriend, pretending to be her. I told him to end the relationship, and I deleted the conversation.
It was silly to think they wouldn’t find out. They talked about it the next day and realised I was the culprit. She was furious and said I’d crossed a line. I felt terrible and embarrassed because I realised I’d let my emotions control me. She eventually forgave me, but her boyfriend didn’t. He made it a talking point in their relationship and fought her about our closeness, but Mimi refused to cut me off. That intensified my hope that she felt something for me, too.
Unfortunately, by 2023, she started pulling back, probably to protect her relationship. At that point, I was tired of the mixed signals and told myself I had to move on. I joined Bumble, partly as a joke and partly as a distraction. That was where I met Mercy.
Did you find better luck with her?
We matched in July 2023, just a few weeks after I joined Bumble. She was bubbly, funny, and very confident. I was fascinated by her energy.
But honestly, I was still stuck on Mimi. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I compared everything Mercy did to her, even subconsciously. For instance, I became critical about how Mercy dressed until she called me out on it.
After about seven months in a talking stage, she asked if I wanted something serious. I couldn’t give her a clear answer. I was scared to commit in case Mimi ever came around. Mercy got tired of waiting and ended things in January 2024.
I tried to go back a few weeks later, but it was too late. She’d moved on. I don’t blame her.
Curious. What was happening with Mimi at this time?
Mimi was still with Idris. But by May 2024, he called things off. She was devastated and turned to me again.
We were both working in Lagos, and she sometimes came over to my place to clear her head. My feelings for her kept growing, but I didn’t confess them immediately. I thought if I gave it some time, she would finally see me differently now that she was single.
Did you ever tell her how you felt?
I did. Around November last year, when she finally seemed over Idris. I texted her because I was too nervous to say it in person. I told her how much I appreciated her, how it would be nice to end up with someone who truly knew me, and then confessed that I’d loved her for years.
She said she needed time to process it. When she didn’t respond the next day, I went to her house. That was when she told me she’d never really thought of me that way and was still healing from her breakup. It wasn’t an outright rejection, so I held on to hope.
But after that conversation, everything changed. Our chats became awkward. She’d change the topic whenever I brought up my feelings, and eventually started avoiding me. I panicked at the thought of losing our friendship, so I took everything back and begged her to forget I’d said anything.
She insisted nothing was wrong, that she didn’t want me to be a rebound, which was why she hadn’t given me a definite response. I believed her since we still texted and kept our Snapchat streaks, even if it wasn’t as frequent.
But in January, a friend from church mentioned she had gone on a date with someone else.
That must’ve stung.
It did. I was shocked and angry. I texted her immediately, and she admitted it. She said she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want things to get awkward. That hurt even more. We’d gone from sharing every detail of our lives to her blocking me on her stories so I wouldn’t see she was on a date.
I was furious and lashed out at her, but she said she’d started to notice I was becoming too attached and obsessed with her. That made me even angrier. Then she said she needed space, and we shouldn’t talk for a while.
Hmmm.
I couldn’t sleep for days. For months, I felt too depressed to work or interact with anyone who reminded me of her. A friend eventually advised me to leave Lagos for a while, so I requested a transfer to my company’s Ibadan branch in March.
The distance helped. Mimi later apologised for how she handled the issue, and now we talk occasionally, but only when necessary. She’s still with that same guy, which just confirms that any romantic hope I had is gone.
I’ve gone through every stage of grief over her. I’ve muted her, deleted her snaps, and finally accepted things for what they are.
Fair enough. Do you think you’re over her now?
Not completely, but I’m getting there. I’ve realised that maybe it wasn’t love, but attachment and obsession, just like she said. I built my entire emotional life around her, so letting go hasn’t been easy. I’m taking my healing slowly and trying to rediscover who I am outside of her.
After everything, how would you say these experiences have shaped your idea of love and relationships?
I’ve learned that if you feel a certain way about someone, just say it. Communicate and have mature conversations about your feelings. It helps you move on faster, even if things don’t go your way.
If I’d told Mimi earlier and she’d turned me down, maybe I would’ve moved on years ago. It still hurts that our friendship is strained, and I take responsibility for that.
Sometimes I think about Mercy and how things could’ve been different if I hadn’t held on to what wasn’t tangible. It was like leaving what I had for something that was never mine. Hiding my feelings out of fear only delayed the heartbreak and made me lose on all sides.
How are the streets treating you these days? Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10.
7/10. At least I’m no longer stuck waiting on someone who doesn’t feel the same. It’s a painful, but freeing reality.
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.
Kelvin* (33) swore never to lend his long-time friend Derin* (32) money again after he defaulted on a loan. But after deciding to stand on business, the aftermath left him conflicted.
When you’re done reading, you’ll get to decide: Did he fuck up or not?
This is Kelvin’s dilemma as shared with Betty:
Derin has been one of my best guys since uni. We bonded over our shared love for football and Manchester United, and quickly became inseparable.
We lived in the same hostel and shared everything — food, clothes, money, and more. In 2017, after we graduated, I got into tech as a designer and earned a decent money from international gigs. My income soon outweighed what Derin earned as a human resources officer.
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His work workplace was toxic and always delayed salaries, so he often borrowed small amounts from me to survive till payday. It was usually ₦20k here or ₦30k there. The amounts were small enough that I never asked him to pay back. I felt I could have spent the money on something trivial anyway.
But in 2019, Derin asked me to lend him ₦700k. He said he wanted to start a poultry business and promised to pay me back in six months. I told him I was saving for a trip, so I’d need the money back as planned. He agreed and promised he would repay it.
Six months passed, and Derin didn’t mention the loan. I figured he needed more time, so I let it slide. A month later, I gave him a gentle nudge. He said he’d pay me back in two weeks. Two weeks came and went, still nothing. When I called him again, he said his favourite aunt fell sick and he’d used part of the money for her hospital bills.
I wanted to give Derin some more time, but then my phone got stolen and I needed money to replace it. When I asked about the repayment again, Derin flared up and accused me of hounding him like I thought he’d run away with the money. I got upset. I’d been more than patient, especially since he chose the repayment deadline himself.
That argument turned into one of our biggest fights. We didn’t speak for a week until he finally sent ₦350k. We made up afterwards, but he never mentioned the balance again. I also didn’t bring it up. I simply resolved I wouldn’t lend him money anymore.
At first, Derin stopped asking for small loans, and I kept quiet too. But almost a year later, in August 2020, he sent an urgent text. He said his dog had caught a parvovirus and needed ₦300k for treatment. He promised to pay me back at the end of the month.
My first instinct was to send the money, but I remembered the unpaid balance from the last loan and how he’d never even brought it up. So, I held back. I told him my expenses were high that month and I couldn’t spare it.
Unfortunately, his dog didn’t make it. He didn’t even tell me about it. I only found out from his WhatsApp status. I sent him a message saying, “Sorry about your loss,” but he flung my well wishes back in my face. He insulted me, called me a useless friend and said I was the reason his dog died.
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Am I a virus? The statement annoyed me. I reminded him that I’d lent him far more than ₦300k in the past, and he had never paid it back. But, he said I should have considered the life at stake before saying no.
I found his reasoning ridiculous, but that argument changed our friendship. We haven’t been the same since. However, I still feel torn. I sometimes wonder if I should have just sent the money, even though I’d probably never see it again.
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.
Nnadozie* (40) and Ugo* (42) met at university and quickly became inseparable. Their friendship continued even after they graduated, and Nnadozie thought he had found a brother for life.
When Ugo moved to a different country, their relationship changed for the worse. Nnadozie shares how he is nursing a broken heart after Ugo’s behaviour completely changed once he became more well off than he was before.
How did you meet Ugo*?
We met at the university in 2006 in Anambra state. We were in the same class, and somehow got drawn to each other. We became very close not long after.
What were the early years of your friendship with Ugo like?
Our friendship was amazing. I didn’t even see him as a friend; he was like a brother to me. He was my closest confidante, as I was his. There was nothing I did without telling Ugo first. We were so close that people even started suspecting we were more than friends, but that wasn’t the case. Meeting him was like finding a long-lost brother. We were inseparable even after we graduated from school.
What happened after school?
Ugo moved to Cameroon after our studies to look for greener pastures. It didn’t pan out, and five years ago, he moved back to Nigeria. During his time in Cameroon, our friendship didn’t fade. We spoke on the phone at least once a week, texted every day, and we still shared everything with each other.
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What about after he moved back to Nigeria?
It was the same. When he came back, we talked and he shared that he wanted to try emigrating to a different country. He chose Canada and began the process. It was very expensive and he didn’t have a lot of money. I was happy to help him with the little I had to spare, sponsoring his travel to his visa interview and paying for documents when I could. I didn’t think much of it because I felt that I was doing it for my brother. He didn’t get the visa the first time, but in 2023, he did, and we celebrated together before he moved.
Did the friendship change after he moved to Canada?
Not at first, we were still as close as ever.
So what changed?
My business suffered a huge financial setback in 2023, right before Ugo got his visa. It was such a bad loss that even my fiancée at the time left me. I got depressed and withdrew from all my friends because I didn’t want to share my predicament and feel like I had become a burden to them.
Did Ugo notice this change in your behaviour?
Yes, he did. He called me not long after and demanded to know why I wasn’t as available or responding to his messages and calls. I told him what had happened, and he tried to commiserate with me and told me to keep my head up. However, from that time, I noticed things were going awry between us.
How do you mean?
When I called Ugo, he was too busy to talk on the phone or he wouldn’t respond to my texts for days which was unlike him. But if he called me and I was too busy to pick up, he would pick a fight with me. At first I thought it was because he was adjusting to his new life abroad but it quickly became tiring. I’m not prone to conflict so our constant fights were wearing me down.
Can you recall a significant fight?
Yes, in 2024, I called him after we hadn’t been in contact for a week. After gisting for a while, I asked him for the number of the agent who helped with his move to Canada. Instead of giving me his number, Ugo maintained that he didn’t think I was ready to move abroad. I told him I was ready, and that was why I asked, but he insisted. I was outside with some of my neighbourhood acquaintances, so I didn’t want to fight him. I told him I’d call him back later, and he responded that if I ended the call, I shouldn’t ever call him again. I thought he was joking, and wrapped up the call, but after that, our relationship became strained.
Did you try to talk to him about this behaviour?
Yes, I texted him shortly after and asked, “Are we still best friends?” He said yes, and I told him I didn’t know if we still were because I didn’t understand his behaviour at all. He didn’t respond to that.
What happened next?
Life continued as usual, and Ugo became wealthier abroad. Sometime this year, I posted on my WhatsApp status about a Nigerian film I was enjoying. Ugo responded to my post mockingly. He said I definitely didn’t suffer a financial setback because if I did, I would be looking for a solution instead of watching movies.
How did you react to that?
I got upset. Did he want me to be sad with no respite because of the bad luck I suffered? I told him to back off, but he didn’t. He suggested that since all my friends, including him, are well off, I should gather them and ask them to donate money to get me out of my bind. I didn’t want to do that because I know that many of them would use the opportunity to mock me or look down on me. We got into an argument over my decision, and we didn’t talk for a while.
What happened after that?
I got a call from Ugo’s ex. She asked me if something was going on with him. When I asked why, she said he had become very annoying since he left the country, and he had been boasting about his new wealth abroad. Her call let me know that Ugo wasn’t just misbehaving with me.
Regardless, I tried to keep our friendship alive, thinking it was just a phase, but things came to a head after my birthday in June 2025.
Tell me about that
Usually, Ugo liked to be one of the first people to call and wish me a happy birthday. This year, he didn’t call at all. It was late in the day when he sent me a half-hearted “Happy Birthday” text. I was shocked. It made me feel like I wasn’t important to him at all.
Did you tell him how that made you feel?
Yes, the day after, I told him how hurt I felt that he didn’t wish me a happy birthday the same way he usually did in previous years. Instead of explaining himself, he flared up. He said that I was ungrateful for not appreciating that he took the time out og his busy schedule abroad to remember my birthday. He said I was lucky I got a message at all, and if I wanted an apology, I should go to hell.
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Wow.
I was so shocked as well. It broke my heart when he said that. I told him we wouldn’t be able to continue our friendship if he spoke to me like that, and he responded, “Is that what you want?”. I affirmed that was what I wanted, to be spoken to respectfully or left alone. He didn’t speak to me or text me after that.
Whoa. That’s so sad. Have you tried reaching out to him since then?
Yes, I have. In August, I sent him my usual long birthday wishes, and he responded with a curt “Thank you”. It made me sad, but I thought there was still some hope for our friendship since he responded. Then I saw something that broke my heart completely.
What did you see?
I have a business line and a personal line. I have WhatsApp for both numbers, but I use my business line more often for general conversations. I had to use my personal WhatsApp the day after Ugo’s birthday, and that’s how I saw he had posted several photos from his birthday on his status. I found this odd because when I checked with my general line, I didn’t see anything he posted. That was when it dawned on me that he had blocked me from viewing his status.
How did that make you feel?
It was like a splash of cold water on my face. It was the turning point that made me realise that our friendship was over. Out of anger, I posted on my WhatsApp status: “Some people don’t see their poor friends as friends until they become rich.” Ugo saw the post but never responded, which was unlike him and I didn’t reach out to him either.
Did you take that as the end of your friendship?
No, I still tried to reach out. Just this past week, I called him to see if I could salvage our relationship, but I found that I wasn’t happy while speaking to him, unlike how I used to feel before everything that happened. After we hung up, I sadly accepted that our friendship had run its course. It was heartbreaking.
Would you take him back as a friend if he apologised in the future?
Yes, I would be happy to reconnect with him because I’m a forgiving person. But we can never be as close as we used to be. I don’t want a best friend who will toss me aside just because he feels we aren’t on the same financial level. Anything can change and I want to be sure of the loyalty of the people in my corner.
Has this affected the way you view your other friendships?
Not at all. My other friends have been my emotional support during these low times. Their actions show me that Ugo’s bad behaviour is exclusive to him. It’s painful to have lost a friendship of almost twenty years, but I’m happy I have other lovely relationships to nurture.
