Wondering if your female colleague sees you as just another work friend or if she’s low-key catching feelings? Whether you’re her male or female co-worker, the signs she likes you—romantically or platonically—can be easy to miss while y’all are slaving away for capital. That’s why we’ve compiled 20 telltale signs on how to know if a girl likes you at work to help you figure out where you stand.
Let’s get into it.
How to know a female co-worker likes you as a platonic friend
She’s always at your desk
If you’ve got a female colleague who loves dropping by your side of the office, she’s probably into your company.
She’s always starting conversations
If she actively seeks you out to chat about work and personal interests, it’s likely because she enjoys conversing with you.
Wants to walk home together
Nothing screams “I rate you” quite like a colleague who wants to walk home with you after a long day at work. It’s heavy on the grown-up primary school bestie vibes.
She cares about your feeding
If she’s using her hard-earned salary to buy your lunch or always checking if you’ve eaten, it’s a sign that she cares about you.
How to know your female co-worker likes you as a platonic female friend
She knows when it’s your time of the month
If she notices it’s that time of the month and goes the extra mile to ease your day or offers to take on some of your workload, this girl is bestie material.
She calls you “bestie” and not your real name
Bonus points if your colleagues also call you “Esther’s bestie” instead of your actual government name.
She takes restroom breaks with you
Remember back in school when you suddenly had to go to the restroom because your bestie was granted a bathroom pass? It’s the same here.
She likes pushing for sleepovers
That’s likely because she’s not just about the office vibes; she also wants to know you outside the confines of capitalism.
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How to know if a female co-worker likes you romantically as a guy
She finds excuses to touch you
Even if the workplace isn’t the most ideal place for PDA, she’ll always manage to place a hand on your shoulder or tap you when she wants your attention.
She’s interested in your love life
If she’s always asking questions about your dating or relationship status, there’s a chance she’s trying to figure out if there’s room for her.
She invites you to out-of-office hangouts
If she’s calling for beach or movie hangouts, or wanting to introduce you to her favourite amala spot, she’s probably open to more than just work friendship.
Her friends know about you
If she’s introducing you to her friends, she might be checking to see if you’d make a good friend… or a great partner.
How to know if your female co-worker likes you romantically as a girl
She’s curious about your sexuality
If she’s suddenly interested in your sexual orientation, she’s likely testing the waters for common ground.
She gets jealous when you hang out with the other work girlies
This might be an indication that she doesn’t want to share your company with someone else, especially not the other 101 hot girls in the office.
She flirts A LOT
If she stares deeply into your eyes, brushes imaginary dirt off your clothes, or “accidentally” dusts off your shoulder, she’s not here just for “work bestie” status.
She remembers everything
You casually mention hating onions, and now she’s practically ready to pick a fight with HR if they add onion rings to the snack options. She’s got you memorised like the lines on her palms? And that’s something.
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We’ve already established that most men don’t like the friend zone, even if they have no intention of pursuing anything serious. But how can you tell if that one friend actually wants something more? Does the good morning and goodnight texts mean he wants to do together forever? Is he sending you a 10-litre jerrycan of homemade zobo because he sees you as more than a friend? So many questions, and we have the answers.
He sends you homemade zobo
Everyone knows how stressful it is to make homemade zobo, so if that man is entering the kitchen for your sake, there’s a chance you’re more than just a friend to him.
He doesn’t like Davido’s Unavailable
That’s because, regardless of the inconvenience, he’ll always find a way to be available for you.
He squeezes face when you call him a friend
Girl, that man is working hard as hell to make sure you don’t send him to the friend zone. Call him the weapon fashioned against you; call him T-Pain, anything but a friend.
“When are you coming to see me?”
You get this question thrown at you at least thrice a week, and you’ve not gotten the memo that he’d spend all of eternity with you if he had the chance? Girlllll.
His eyes TALK
If he stares, gazes, and always maintains eye contact, that man is in love with you. And soon enough, your eyes will start responding.
His gifts make you consider dating him
Just imagine getting a curated photobook complete with QR codes to your favourite songs, and you think that man just wants to be a friend? Please, dear.
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He’s sick when you’re sick
Forget every other thing mentioned in this article, what better evidence do you need to deep it that your “friend” is in sync with your body and soul? And to make it better, he’ll
He’s actively trying to befriend your family members
Because he knows after a while, they’ll be the ones who put in the good words for him. Scenes where your Nigerian mum goes: “And I like that your friend that is always visiting us o. He looks responsible”.
He asks about your love life
That’s because our man wants to find out whether you are available or interested in doing love thangz with him. And even when he knows you’re seeing someone, he’s always giddy when y’all have relationship problems.
He tells you everything
That’s because you’re more than a friend in his head and deserve to know everything in his life. Low key, that man wants you to be a part of his plans.
If you ask me how my Monday is going, I’ll tell you I’m still smiling over a random stranger on the internet who got the cutest birthday gift from her partner—a curated photobook spanning four years, complete with QR codes to her favourite songs. The real “God, when?” right?
Naturally, I wanted to find out what other viral-worthy gifts people have received from their loved ones. Let’s just say I wasn’t disappointed.
Cooking is my love language. If I care about you, you’ll taste my food at least once a month. But when I lost my mum in 2019, something changed. I enjoyed cooking with her, and the kitchen was our bonding spot. After she died, I stopped cooking as much, and that’s when my friends stepped in. I never imagined they knew how to cook, but for six months, they showed up with a week’s worth of home-cooked meals. They even volunteered to cook in my house on several occasions. It was the best gift I could’ve received during that period. Though I lowkey blame them for the extra weight I gained while grieving.
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Ibukun*
On my 30th birthday, my husband went all out. He hired a chef to do “breakfast in bed” for me. I woke up to the sound of a trumpet and rose petals led me to the dining room, where an IG-worthy breakfast spread awaited—eggs, pancakes, strawberries, chocolates, and toast. When I thought my husband had worked himself off all morning for my sake, a chef stepped out of the kitchen with a cute birthday cake. We ate together while a paranra guy played soft music in the background, and the best part? My husband kept our phones locked away, saying we’d describe the moment to our loved ones with words. It’s been two years, and while I’ve pulled my surprises for him, nothing has topped that day.
Josephine*
I once dated a guy who sold perfumes, so I was always spoiled with nice scents. But the most thoughtful gift was when he tried to recreate my mum’s scent after she passed away. I’d often break down when I caught a whiff of her scent in public, saying, “That person smells like my mum,” but never asked what they were wearing. He asked if I had anything of hers with her scent still on it. I gave him a scarf and one of her clothes, and three weeks later, he gave me a bottle of perfume named after her. It wasn’t an exact match, but the effort and intention melted my heart.
Dewunmi*
People don’t understand that there’s an art to giving gifts. Before I met my partner, I was terrible at it—expensive gadgets, fashion accessories, and money were my go-to. Everything changed after we got together. She curates experiences and gives gifts that leave lasting impressions. I’m learning from her. My favourite gift is a personalised diary she gave me some years back. Each page had handwritten notes—things we’d said to each other, quotes from our favourite movies and songs. The last page also featured a collage of our most intimate photos. No matter what kind of day I’m having, I always leave that diary with a smile.
Busola*
I had a favourite coffee mug that my husband gave me when “glow in the dark” was trending. Everyone had them on shirts, key holders, and accessories. But instead of writing “I love you” or my name, he wrote a sweet note on the mug. I kept it on my reading table because I loved how it lit up in the dark. One day, it slipped and broke while I was cleaning the house. I was in a foul mood for the rest of that week.
Kenny*
In uni, I dated a wannabe singer, and the most romantic gift I’ve ever gotten came from him. While other girls got flowers, chocolates, and teddy bears for Valentine’s Day, he gave me an MP3 player with six R&B song covers, including my name in his version of the songs. He also recorded a poem with my name in it. It was so sweet, and I always took the device everywhere. Although, I never allowed anyone else to listen to it. Even after the MP3 player stopped working, I kept it for years.
How would you feel if your closest friend made a major decision like relocation without informing you?
That’s what happened to Ezra. He talks about being blindsided by his long-term best friend’s relocation, getting angry, and why he’s decided not to let his feelings affect their friendship.
As told to Boluwatife
Image by Canva AI
If you’d asked me a year ago how I’d react to learning my best friend left the country without telling me, I’d have concluded that the friendship was over and cut off all communication. Now that it’s actually happened, I’ve found myself a lot more understanding. But it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.
Deji* and I have been best friends since 2014. We met when we started sharing a bunk bed in our first year in university, and, as is usually the case with roommates, we automatically became friends.
At first, our friendship was just the standard greeting, sharing food when either of us cooked and gisting about football and girls. Then, we became closer over the years. I still can’t explain how that happened, but we soon began visiting each other’s homes during the holidays and forming relationships with each other’s families.
Deji’s mum had my number on speed dial and would call me if Deji didn’t pick up his phone when she called. Whenever she sent money and food to Deji at school, she’d send mine, too. Our parents also became close friends — the fact that Deji and I happened to come from the same state also helped — and we unofficially went from friends to brothers.
After we graduated from uni in 2021, I decided against returning home so I could plan for NYSC, and I spent the full three months waiting for my call-up letter in Deji’s family house. His family was essentially my second family; there was nothing that happened in Deji’s family that I didn’t know. That’s why, even though I’m surprised Deji would japa without telling me, I’m not holding it against him.
The thing is, Deji comes from a heavily competitive polygamous home. His dad has multiple wives who constantly throw shade at each other, and his mum is constantly praying against enemies and spiritual attacks. I don’t consider myself superstitious, but some things I’ve seen in his family are more than mere coincidences.
For one, Deji and his siblings never hold big parties or celebrations due to his mum’s insistence. She believes that calling attention to themselves can result in spiritual attacks. The two times that Deji’s sister ignored that rule and held birthday parties without their mum’s knowledge, she fell sick and landed in the hospital.
Just before we wrote our final exam paper in uni, Deji posted final year costume day pictures on Facebook and suddenly developed malaria the next day. I had to carry him on my back from the school clinic to the exam hall so he could write that paper and not get an extra year.
So, I understood that Deji had to make most moves in secret. But I didn’t expect that would also extend to me, considering how close we were. In fact, when he landed a tech job a year after graduation, I was the only one he told how much he earned. When he started seriously considering japa in 2023, I was the only person he told apart from his parents and siblings. We even brainstormed routes, and I helped him write some of the applications.
That’s why I felt blindsided when, a few months ago, Deji sent me a WhatsApp message informing me that he’d arrived in Canada two days before and apologised for not telling me earlier. I honestly had no clue. I’d visited his house two weeks before then and asked about the visa status, but he said he was still waiting for feedback.
Honestly, I was angry at first. It felt like he was subconsciously classifying me as one of the “village people” who would spoil his plans if he told me about it. If I even wanted to spoil the plan, wouldn’t I have done so when he first mentioned it?
I reduced communication for a bit after that because of my anger, but after some weeks, I realised I needed to get over myself. This is someone I know, and I understand his family circumstances. He’s still my best friend, and I’m sure he meant no harm. Plus, japa is something you can’t really afford to play trial and error with, considering the money involved in the process.
So, regardless of my feelings, I understand why Deji did what he did. If he had to do it again, I’d have no choice but to understand. The fact that I don’t believe telling me would’ve affected his plan in any way doesn’t mean I should ignore his fears. Whatever he chooses to do, he’s still my best friend, and I don’t want anger or a slight misunderstanding to change that.
Right now, I’m helping him sell off the properties he left behind. He didn’t sell anything while still here to avoid arousing suspicion. Once that’s done, I’ll send him the money and look forward to when he can afford to visit Nigeria. Or maybe I’ll be the next to japa. Who knows?
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
I wanted to speak with people who have had friendship breakups due to living with their friends, and I found Habib*.
His 10-year friendship with Ibukun* is about to end after just six months of living together as flatmates.
As told to Adeyinka
I’ve only lived with Ibukun for six months, and it’s the worst decision I’ve made in a long time.
I’ve always been against having a roommate or living in a shared apartment. Even when I lived with my parents, I was the only sibling with a room to myself. I used to share the room with my immediate brother, but we were always fighting. He never arranged his bed, preferred the lights on and windows open, and left the doors open. All of these things unsettled my peace of mind, so it was hard to overlook. After our eldest sibling married, I didn’t say a word before he moved and left the room for me.
When I got into university, my parents didn’t argue when I insisted on a self-contained off-campus apartment instead of the school’s shared hostel arrangement. They knew their child well, and putting me up with a stranger would have unsettled them as much as it did me.
I met Ibukun at university in 2014. He was my super cool coursemate, whom I convinced to move into my hostel. When we met, he was looking for new accommodation, and there was a spare self-con in my hostel. Since we’d gotten along as coursemates, I was thrilled by the idea of having him in the hostel.
Living in the same hostel moved us from coursemates to actual friends. We attended lectures together, came home together, planned meals together, studied together, and made more mutual friends together. On some days, we crashed in each other’s rooms.
At some point, people who didn’t know the history of our friendship thought we were related, and we went with that narrative. To some people, we were friends, and to others, cousins. During short holidays when I couldn’t make it to Lagos, my parents gave me permission to spend it at Ibukun’s in Osogbo.
We saw less of each other after we graduated from university in 2018. I came to Lagos, where I did my NYSC. Ibukun was back in Osogbo and served in Ibadan. But the long distance had nothing on us; we were still guys. We texted, called and occasionally attended owambes of family and mutual friends.
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In November last year, Ibukun told me his job was transferring him to Lagos, and he needed help finding a place. Coincidentally, I was house hunting because I wanted to move out of my parents’ place.
My search had been fruitless. Lagos agents were asking ridiculous sums for horrible houses with poor ventilation. They also kept insisting that I couldn’t get a decent mini-flat on the mainland with my ₦700k budget except I was open to houses in Ikorodu, Iyana Ipaja and the likes.
When Ibukun asked, I told him I couldn’t be of much help because I’d also been house hunting and hadn’t found anything. Immediately after I mentioned I was house hunting, Ibukun suggested getting a place together. He said we could get a two-bedroom and both have our rooms to ourselves.
It didn’t sound like a bad idea, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled by it. The first thing that struck my mind was my reservation against living with someone. But in that moment, I also realised Ibukun’s suggestion was probably worth considering if I wanted to move out and get a decent house. Besides, just like he said, we’d have our rooms to ourselves, and if he became overbearing, I could always retire to my room.
In the first week of January, we concluded payment for a two-bedroom and started setting up the space. Moving into the house made me realise rent was just the first of several steps. We had to pay for much more — furniture, light and curtain fittings, bed, etc. I was super thankful that I could split the bill with someone. We finally moved in the last week of January, and my parents and Ibukun’s dad came to pray for us in the house.
Living with Ibukun was cool. We agreed on everything, and splitting bills wasn’t a problem. But things started to fall apart in April.
I should mention one habit I found disturbing about Ibukun during our undergrad days. My guy was never one to keep his dick in his pants. Ibukun had different babes who spent the night with him in the hostel. Six girls could visit him in a week, and at least four of those would spend the night. I thought it was excessive, but I never mentioned it since it wasn’t making him any less serious with school.
The problem is, Ibukun’s hoe-phase followed him into adulthood. At first, I didn’t suspect anything. Actually, there was nothing to suspect. He’d just moved to Lagos, didn’t know many people, and was trying to find his balance at work. So, there wasn’t a lot of time for leisurely activities.
But by April, when he was fully settled, the Ibukun from uni reared his head. It started with him coming home from work with a female colleague. The babe would come with a change of clothes, and they’d leave for work together in the morning. She seemed like a nice babe, so I didn’t have issues. Also, I assumed they were serious since she was spending days at a stretch. After about two weeks, I stopped seeing the girl. Another one had replaced her, and since then, I’ve lost count of all the girls that have been to our house.
The annoying thing is that the people he brings over have no respect for our house. They invade everywhere. I entered the kitchen one morning, and there was this strange babe in a crop top and pants making noodles. I had to dash out of the kitchen, apologising—which is crazy because WTF? It’s my house; I should be able to show up anywhere I want.
As if that’s not bad enough, they cook our food, eat our cereals, use gadgets that drain power units, leave stuff in the living room, and mess up the bathroom and toilets. I can’t count the number of times I’ve cleaned lather off the bathroom walls, washed off pubic hair, and opened the toilet to see clumps of tissue.
Let’s not even talk about the sex noises. The ladies are always unnecessarily loud. I don’t know if he makes them do it intentionally or if they’re uncouth. I could be up observing midnight prayers, and the moaning sounds wouldn’t let me focus.
One day, a guy spent the night, and I could have sworn I heard moaning sounds. To this day, I’ve convinced myself a girl was probably in the room with them for a threesome, or they were watching porn. I’ve never known Ibukun to be bisexual.
I’ve complained, begged, and given the coldest shoulders to his guests, but nothing seems to work. The last time we talked, we raised voices at each other, and he kept saying that no one ever comes inside my room, which means I still have my privacy. I’ve considered telling his parents, but how do I even go about telling on an adult who chooses to be sexually irresponsible?
At this point, I just feel deep resentment and hatred toward him. We stopped joint contributions for foodstuffs last month. I now put my provisions and foodstuff in a separate cupboard in the kitchen. He can continue feeding his guests from his pocket.
I’m definitely not renewing the rent when it expires. Maybe I’ll move back in with my parents and save up until I can afford a place in a nice area.
Reconnecting with an old friend can be tricky. On the one hand, you’re excited to pick things up from where you left off; on the other hand, you want to curb your enthusiasm in case they’re no longer the person you used to know.
From the good, awkward, and totally nostalgic, these Nigerians share what it felt like reuniting with old buddies from the past. Here’s what they had to say.
I lost contact with my secondary school best friend after we graduated. I didn’t have a phone, and she didn’t have one either. We only shared our Facebook usernames with each other, and that was it. After school, I didn’t have access to the internet because I didn’t have a phone and hardly had enough to spend at the café. By the time I got to uni, I’d forgotten all about her because I made new friends. One day, I got a friend request from someone on Facebook, which was hers. After I accepted the request, I sent a barrage of messages in hopes she’d be as happy to reconnect as I was. This babe didn’t respond until two days later, and even when she did, it was monosyllabic responses. It was weird because I wondered why she sent a friend request if she wasn’t interested in catching up. Something about her tepid response made me move on. She’s still on my Facebook, but we barely text.
Bukunmi*, 28
I once had a “na me fuck up” moment that has made me careful in how I reconnect with old school friends. I approached this friend from secondary school, and she denied me, as Judas did Jesus. She moderated a panel at a conference I attended, and while she was speaking, I realised she was my friend from school. We weren’t best friends, but we were quite close. I approached her to introduce myself, and she feigned complete ignorance. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d heard people do things like that, but it was the first time I experienced it. After that encounter, I stopped making the first move whenever I saw former schoolmates.
Jeremiah*, 28
I didn’t have a bestie in primary school, but I had three friends: Kunle, Segun, and Kenneth. Our parents wanted us to attend the same government boarding school, but I was the only one who got in. The other three got into different schools; that was the last I heard of them. However, I met Kenneth again during my second year at university. At the cafeteria that day, someone yelled my name and surname. I didn’t recognise the person when I turned to see who it was. He had a big build and full beard. When he got closer, I realised it was someone I knew, and when he gave his full name, it jogged my memory. We spent the rest of that day catching up, and I learnt he was two years ahead of me in school. After that day, we met a couple more times and became friends, just like the primary school days.
Soon, I realised Kenneth avoided me whenever he was with his level mates and was always condescending. Apparently, it didn’t look good on him that he was moving with a junior student. It didn’t take me long to shut down the budding friendship.
Qudus*, 31
We moved houses a lot when I was young because of my dad’s job, so I had to change schools several times. It’s hard to remember, but I must have attended about four to six primary schools growing up. This constant moving meant I couldn’t stay long enough to make friends in the schools. Now that I think about it, I can barely remember anyone from my primary school days. My mum once showed me pictures from the graduation party in primary six, and I had no idea who the people in the pictures were. Even if anyone reaches out to me from that time, I don’t think I’ll be receptive, except if we build the friendship from scratch. Most of my current friends are from university and just a handful from secondary school.
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Tobi,* 34
I had a best friend in primary school called Adamu. We were classmates and seat partners. He was much taller than I was and always defended me from bullies. We also used to play in school together after closing hours, especially on days when either of our parents showed up late. At some point, our parents also became friends. Then, one day, Adamu didn’t show up at school. A day soon turned into weeks and months. Nobody knew why, not even the school management. It was like he vanished off the face of the earth. Later, I heard his family relocated to Abuja. I remember feeling so lonely. In 2009, when I opened my first Facebook account, he was one of the first people I searched for. Several profiles came up, but they were mostly older people with the same name.
Then, in 2016, my long-lost bestie popped up on Instagram. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He obviously had a different username; there was no way I’d have thought to search for that name. I checked his pictures, and there he was, my long-lost friend. I didn’t hesitate to follow up and send a DM introducing myself. I didn’t have to say too much because he also recognised me. We spent the next hour trying to catch up and even exchanged WhatsApp numbers. But in the days that followed, something about our conversation felt plastic. He tried to be courteous, but I could tell he wasn’t as enthusiastic as I was. In the eight years that we reconnected, I don’t think we’ve texted up to 10 times. We just view each other’s status on WhatsApp, and that’s about it.
Taiye*, 40
I can remember some of my friends from primary school, but I can’t say I’ve gotten in touch with any since I left. We didn’t have social media or mobile phones, so it was difficult. I think it’s also a thing where I forgot most of the connections in primary school after making new friends in secondary school. Even when social media became a thing, I was never curious to look up anyone. Although I found a Facebook page for my primary school, it’s mostly the older sets there.
Blessing*, 30
I’ve had too many embarrassing experiences to expect anything good from primary or secondary school friends. Most of us were still in our formative years, and I don’t think the friendship we thought we had was built on anything solid. It’s why someone you consider your school bestie would see you and act like you’re a stranger, try to be standoffish when you try to reminisce about shared experiences or use your social standing to judge how they’ll interact with you.
People can dispute it all they want, but there’s no denying that the dynamics of a relationship changes when one party becomes famous. Whether it’s for good or worse is a different pot of soup.
In this story, Fred* (34) talks about how one of his oldest friends joined the crop of post-COVID lockdown creator stars of 2021. He can sense them drifting apart, but his fear of getting labelled as “entitled” has hindered him from having an honest conversation about it.
I met my friend in 2010, shortly after I graduated from secondary school. My mum gifted me a Nokia phone for graduation, and 2go was the in-thing then. When I first joined, I mostly had random conversations with users I assumed were also trying to figure out the app.
One day, I came across the rooms feature — forums with different topics. There was one for movies, politics, football and so on. I was preparing to study mass communication in uni, so it made sense that the only rooms that appealed to me were the ones tilted to the media. The rooms were almost as confusing as the 2go app itself. After you enter a room, there’s a barrage of messages from different accounts.
It took a while to get around it, but when I did, I started dropping commentary in the music and movie rooms. Soon, I noticed an account that always engaged with my contributions. Whenever I talked about a new movie or song, he backed me, and I started to do the same for his comments. He had the Mona Lisa painting as his display picture, which held me back from sending a friend request at first.
However, after a couple of exchanges in the forums, I could tell he was a cool person and I wanted to get to know him better, so I sent a friend request and he accepted almost immediately. It was easy to converse since we had similar interests, but I was curious to know more about him beyond what his profile bio said.
I learnt he was fresh out of secondary school, about to write JAMB and had plans to study Mass Communication too. He also resided in Lagos, and was just two buses away from my house.
Over the next couple of months, our shared interests and aspirations helped us form a bond, and we moved from the realm of 2go buddies to actual friends. We would constantly talk about our dreams to become OAPs and move around with actors, actresses and singers or even become superstars ourselves.
He had a thing for music and was always attending auditions, and I was always there to cheer him up when he didn’t get picked. I’d make jokes about how he had a better chance at blowing up since he could sing, and we’d laugh about it, ending the conversation with how I’d probably be his manager or someone of importance on his team.
Fast forward to 2012, we gained admission into different universities. It felt like we were a step closer to our dreams as media guys without either of us feeling left behind. Meanwhile, we’d still not met in person. We had super strict parents who didn’t entertain visitors or allow us to go visiting. But this didn’t stop our friendship from blossoming. We texted and took advantage of the MTN Midnight call package.
But with uni came a lot more freedom.
Our schools were in different parts of Osun state. We talked about visiting each other’s schools on weekends and breaks, but 100 level was hectic for both of us. We were two Lagosians trying to settle in a new environment whilst facing the harsh reality that was university life. Even when we planned to travel back home together, our schedules never seemed to work out.
Let’s just say we didn’t see each other until 200 level when he visited me in school for a week.
Even though it was the first time we saw each other in person, it didn’t feel like that. I was more than happy to introduce him to my new friends. But more importantly, I really wanted to show him how I was fairing on our shared dream of being media superstars. So, I made sure he attended classes with me. I showed him around our studio and was excited to talk about assignments, projects and all that. He also shared some of his experiences with me, how he’d gotten a slot to present for the school radio.
It felt good, we were both on course.
I never made the trip to his school even though he visited me a couple more times. But, I did visit him at home in Lagos. His dad took a liking to me after our first meeting, and he didn’t have a problem with me visiting, especially since he’d occasionally walked in on us passionately talking about our future in the media.
We graduated from university in 2016. I went to NYSC before he did, but it didn’t matter because we still had our passing out service at the same time.
After NYSC, I was retained as a writer at my PPA while he got a gig as a presenter at an online radio station in Ogun state. We didn’t get jobs with Beat FM, Cool FM, Silverbird or Channels like we both dreamt, but in a way, it still felt like we were on course.
Except, a little part of me felt left behind. Something about my first job being a writing role didn’t fully align with our joint dream. He was a radio presenter, and it didn’t matter that it was an online station because he still got to interview celebrities. It was the first time he was a step ahead. But I didn’t let the thoughts linger, especially because we were actively applying for jobs in bigger media orgs. It felt reassuring that we were still on the hustle for the same thing.
In 2019, I got a better opportunity as a journalist with one of the big digital media orgs. My friend had returned to Lagos because the online radio thing in Ogun wasn’t working, and to be frank Lagos was the real eye candy. All the while, our friendship remained intact, and he was always so happy to read my stories. On my part, I wasn’t entirely happy because it felt like I was a step ahead and he was behind because he didn’t have a job. The goal had always been to move as a unit.
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Then, COVID happened in 2020, and he went into the lockdown jobless. I knew it wasn’t the prettiest period for him. I remember how he once broke down in tears during a phone call, and I didn’t quite know what to say. We’d had some vulnerable moments, but that was a lot to handle. I just stayed on the end of the call, and offered the overused “It is well”.
Now, you know how they say when life throws you lemons, you should lemonade? This was exactly what my friend did. Few months into lockdown, he started filming skits. He’d send them to me before posting and ask for my opinion. In all our years of friendship, I’d never really seen him as a comic, so I didn’t find the videos funny — at least, not CrazeClown or Taaoma funny. But it didn’t stop me from encouraging him and showing support by reposting, resharing and commenting.
Soon, what started as a lockdown hobby picked up significantly. His follower count went through the roof on social media. While I didn’t find him entirely funny, people online did. They were in his comments, they were reposting his videos on Twitter and Instastory. My friend was everywhere, and I couldn’t have been happier. He was no longer a step behind, we were on course to achieving our dreams as media boys.
By 2021, he’d fully taken his place among the new crop of lockdown creators. He’d gotten interviews with print and digital news outlets, and some appearances on TV. And the icing on a cake was when he landed an OAP job at one of the big media houses in Lagos. At this point, it became clear that he was on the fast lane to becoming a celebrity. Through all of these exciting changes, our communication remained pretty much the same. We’d chat on WhatsApp and Instagram, throw in occasional calls and even visit each other.
By late 2022, my friend became a full blown celebrity in his own right. He’d started hanging out with popular skitmakers. Celebrities were in his comment section laughing their asses off his videos, and he even interviewed some of them on his daytime job as an OAP.
At first, I refused to entertain thoughts that his new status would affect the dynamic of our relationship. I was constantly showing support in his DMs, and working to keep all our channels of communication alive. Instagram DMs, Whatsapp and Twitter DMs — all places were filled with chat histories that went back years. I’d sometimes quote old messages and we’d briefly reminisce about those times.
But soon, we started to have less and less things to talk about. Our conversation reduced to messages I’d send congratulating him about a new milestone or responses to his WhatsApp status. We both try to put up a front and act like we’re still the same buddies who had dreams of carving out a space for ourselves in the media, but the friendship isn’t what it used to be.
I’ve thought about talking to him on so many occasions. But you know how it is when people become famous. They sometimes put up a guard to protect themselves from people who feel entitled to being a part of their lives.
I’m scared of getting branded as an entitled friend. I mean, shouldn’t it be enough that I’m still on his close friends list on Instagram? That I can call him right now and he’d pick up the phone? That I can lay claim to being this celebrity’s gee and he’d co-sign. That I can show up at his place and he’ll let me spend the night? These privileges should be enough.
We still exchange messages across social media apps, but deep down, I know the friendship is hanging by a thread. At least, on my end. I fear that if I stop putting in the effort, the friendship is headed to its death. And he might not even notice because there’s so much exciting stuff happening in his life right now.
Some of the wildest memories I have are with my friends. We’ve been to places we shouldn’t, taken risks that’ll have our parents on their knees and spent lots of time reminiscing about these memories that strengthened our bonds.
I was curious to know if there are others who tie the strength of their friendship to wild shared experiences, and I found these six people.
From sneaking a bestie in for a month-long staycation to borrowing and almost crashing a parent’s car to show off , these Nigerians have stories for days.
Toke*
My last birthday was on a Friday and my friend offered to take me out after work. We went to a cool spot in Ikeja to eat. I thought that was all, but she said there was one more surprise.
The surprise turned out to be a strip club, which freaked me out a little. It was the club’s “lesbian night”, and they had all sorts of naked women doing stuff on stage. Some of them even came to grind on us.
I couldn’t enjoy the moment because I kept thinking “Is this legal? What if the government chooses to raid this place tonight? Is that not 14 years?”
We stayed for about one hour before we left — my worry and anxiety didn’t let me have any fun. It was one of the craziest nights of my adult life in Lagos.
Nike*
My friend came to Lagos for NYSC and needed a place to stay. Naturally, she asked if she could stay at mine. She had visited before and knew we had a big house with lots of empty rooms. The only problem was, my parents didn’t like that we were friends. They were always cold to my friends whose parents they hadn’t met. There was no point in asking them if she could stay because they’d have outrightly refused.
So, I devised a plan. I asked her to visit for a weekend, and I made sure my parents saw her. What they didn’t know was that she stayed in our house for a whole month. She’d come in really late at night, and leave very early in the morning. On days she didn’t go to work, she’d stay in the room all day. She ate, cleaned up and did everything in my room.
It helped that my parents hardly came upstairs to my room because of their leg problems, so it was really easy to pull it off. I wonder how they’d have reacted if they found out, but I’m glad they never did.
Binta*
Back when I was a Jambite, my best friend had a pregnancy scare. We’d gotten pregnancy test strips, but the test came back negative, which was strange because her period never came. One weekend she told me of her plan to go for a hospital test. She didn’t ask me to follow her, and I was relieved because deep down, that was a line I wasn’t willing to cross as a hijab-wearing Muslim with strict parents.
On the day she planned to go, she came to my house early in the morning in tears. I felt bad watching her break down so I offered to go with her. On our way to the hospital, I pulled off my hijab and scarf to look older and it worked. The hospital staff had smirks on their faces, but I could tell it wasn’t because they thought we were young jambites — they just thought we were some wayward girls. Thankfully, the result was negative.
When I got home, I started thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong. A hijab wearing girl at the hospital for a pregnancy test? My parents would have disowned me if they found out.
Get a free ticket to Strings Attached and enjoy a feel-good evening of music, dancing and games at Muri Okunola Park, Lagos on May 11, 2024.
Shile*
My friend and I had nothing to do while waiting for NYSC. On a random day, he came to me and said he’d gotten the contact of a “baba” that could help us get rich. I wasn’t desperate for wealth, but my friend was. But I decided to follow him to the man’s place for support. To be honest, I was just curious to see what the ritual process looks like.
We spent almost six hours on the road before we got to the place in a deserted village in Abeokuta. I could tell something was off the moment we arrived — the people there stared at us as though they were asking us, “What are you people looking for here?”
The baba had a decent house and received us warmly. After we sat for a while, he invited us to follow him to his shrine. I didn’t follow them since it was my friend who wanted it. After they left, I fell into a deep sleep that I’m convinced wasn’t natural. I don’t know how many hours I was out for, but I was still dizzy AF when we left. The journey home was a blur, and I didn’t feel like myself till I woke up the next morning.
I spent the next few days thinking about what happened. Was a sleep spell cast on me? Was my friend in on it? What if they’d unalived me? It also didn’t help that my friend didn’t want to talk about it. He relocated shortly after that incident and we’re still in touch, but I still think about that journey.
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James*
My SS 3 class organised a graduation party after we finished our final exams. It was the first big party we’d attend outside the school premises and everyone wanted to show up in their best. My friend came up with a wild idea of driving his dad’s car because his parents weren’t home. He’d been talking about learning how to drive during holidays so I assumed he knew how to drive. On the day of the party, he showed up with the car at my house and again I thought “If he made it to my house, he knows how to drive”.
Everything was smooth until we got to the Third Mainland Bridge. I don’t know if it was the water or the length of the bridge, but something wasn’t right. Also, my friend suddenly suffered a panic attack and we got hit from the back before he could park. It didn’t take long for a crowd of adults to gather asking why young boys like us were driving. My friend’s parents were out of town so we had to call my parents. My dad was furious, but he arranged for a towing vehicle to get us and the car off the bridge. Interestingly, I didn’t get any lashing at home because everyone was just grateful we were alive.
In the mood for one more memorable adventure with your bestie? Then Strings Attached is where you should be.
We’re collaborating with One Bank to bring all the super cool people to our yard on Saturday, May 11, 2024, at Muri Okunola Park.
Want to be a part of “Strings Attached”, the hottest community festival ever? All you have to do is download the OneBank by Sterling app, create a new account using ZIKOKO as the referral code, and your ticket will be reserved. The free tickets will be given out on a first-come, first-served basis, so hit the app store ASAP.
I have three goals when I attend an event or festival: Have premium fun, make friends and get home safely. While I easily check off the fun and getting home parts, I can’t say the same about making friends. My social awkwardness and anxiety never let me.
But I spoke with six peope who simply cannot relate to this struggle. Unlike me, they’ve made some of their best friendships at social events and will always look forward to attending the next one.
Here are their stories.
Feranmi*
I attended a show at EKO Hotel and things didn’t go as planned. The show was scheduled for 6 p.m but it didn’t start till 9 p.m. I’d heard how Uber/Boltdrivers on the Island operate in the midnight so I thought I was covered.
At 10:30 p.m., I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t find any ride to take me home. This dude who seemed to have the same problem approached me and goes “Bro, which side are you going?”. In my mind I was like “How’s that your business?” But I answered anyway. It turned out we were both headed to Onipanu. That was how he suggested sleeping in the event hall and leaving very early the next day. He said he’d done it before and that’s how most mainlanders navigate late night shows. We ended up talking through the night before we fell asleep. By the next morning, we’d shared so much that it felt like we’d been friends forever. And that was it. We’ve been friends for about 7 years now.
Bukunmi*
I attended HERtitude this year because I wanted to make new friends. Looking at videos and posts from previous editions, I knew my female bestie was somewhere out there waiting for me to find her. And I think I did at Hertitude.
My bank card embarrassed me while I was trying to make payment at a food vendor’s. This cute girl, who was also in the queue, noticed my distress and offered to pay with her card, and I could refund with a bank transfer. I was more than thankful. We spent most of our time together after that encounter, and we’ve texted each other every day since Saturday. Well, maybe it’s still too early to say we’re besties, but at least we’re friends.
Bisi*
I won’t say I’ve made friends at any festival or events because I hardly attend with my friends. However, I remember one time when I got my period at an event and didn’t have my pads. I was stuck in the restroom for a bit trying to reach my friends and this girl noticed. She offered me pads from her stash and that was genuinely so nice. We ran into each other a couple of times more at the event and I thanked her every time, while she asked if I was okay or needed more. Now that I think of it, we would have made good friends. She seemed like a girl’s girl.
Josh*
I’d been in a WhatsApp group for movie lovers for years, and I was one of the active members. That said, I wouldn’t say I had any close relationship with anyone. We only bantered about movies and that was about it. So one time, this film festival came up and the group decided to attend.
On the D-day, I put out a call to carpool and about four people responded. All four of us attended the festival together and it was one of the best outings I’d enjoyed in a while. It felt like we’d known each other for a long time, even though it was the first time we met. At the festival, one of us suggested another event that was coming up and we all seemed interested. We created another WhatsApp group to plan for the event and that was how our friendship took off. We’ve attended more film festivals, excursions and trips.
Tolu*
I went to the last Experience concert with my brother and his wife, and I felt like a third wheel. They were all over each other that they forgot they came with someone.
I got bored of the concert at some point and took a stroll. When I got back, a lady had taken my spot and I wanted to para for her because I was already in a foul mood. I got to my spot and before I said anything she stood up and apologised. I felt bad by her thoughtfulness and politeness, so I offered to share my seat and she accepted. We made occasional small talk the rest of the concert and said our goodbyes when it was time to leave. However, on our way home, I saw her standing at the bus-stop and made my brother stop so we could ask where she was headed. Luckily, she was going our way so she joined our ride. This time around, I collected her number before we parted ways. We’ve been friends for four months now.
Esther*
I don’t think I know anyone who’s as interested in making new friends as I am. Maybe it has something to do with my job as a PR person. If I attend that music festival, that award show, that food festival, best believe one or two new numbers are getting into my phone. I’ve made most of my closest friends from events I organised or attended. My contacts list has names like Sarah Bolifest, Kunle Palmwinefest, Feyi Homecoming, etc. And friends often describe me as the worst person to go out with because the chances of dumping them for another new friend is always on the high side.
Have these stories inspired you to make friends? We know just the right festival where you’ll meet your potential bestie.
We’re collaborating with One Bank to bring all the super cool people to our yard on Saturday, May 11, 2024, at Muri Okunola Park.
Want to be a part of “Strings Attached”, the hottest community festival ever? All you have to do is download the OneBank by Sterling app, create a new account using ZIKOKO as the referral code, and your ticket will be reserved. The free tickets will be given out on a first-come, first-served basis, so hit the app store ASAP.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
“Do crypto with Quidax and win from a $60K QDX prize pool!” Bayo, a 28-year-old Lagosian tells Jide, his Ibadan friend seeking the most secure way to trade crypto in Nigeria after a major exchange he trades with announced its plans to leave the country. Find out more here.
When did you first clock the importance of money?
When I was about 8 years old, I noticed the kids in my neighbourhood came out to play with their bicycles every evening. I felt out of place because I didn’t have one, and the kids didn’t let me play with them. I asked my mum to buy me one, and she said, “You’ve not even seen money to eat, you’re thinking about a bicycle”.
Me, I wanted to play and make friends, and I thought I could only do that when I had money to buy my own bicycle.
What was the financial situation at home like?
My dad was a welder for offshore companies, but the early 2000s Warri Crisis forced some of these companies to leave the country. Then he didn’t get regular jobs anymore.
Plus, my dad wasn’t good with money. Whenever he got a temporary offshore job and got paid well, he’d spend it on electronic gadgets rather than follow my mum’s suggestion and invest in a business. I’d come home from school to find a new television when the old one was still working. Or he’d do some repairs on his car or buy a new freezer. So, my parents always fought about money.
I’m the firstborn, so I noticed how his financial habits contributed to the tension at home.
How did your family navigate the periods when he didn’t have a job?
My mum used to be a stay-at-home mum until things got tough. Then, she tried many things; from selling fabrics and hawking food to taking cleaning jobs, daycare and catering gigs. Her businesses hardly took off because my dad always came to borrow money, but at least she made sure we weren’t homeless and always brought food home whenever she went for catering gigs.
Watching her try several things for money, coupled with my dad’s financial habits made me think a lot about money. There was a limit to what I could get because of money, and I just wanted to make my own.
When did you first act on this need to make money?
In SS 1. My mum used to cook for a neighbour occasionally. One day, she had a small get-together and came looking for my mum to cook for her. My mum wasn’t home, and this lady said I should follow her. She assumed I could cook since my mum was a good cook. I didn’t tell her I’d never cooked in my mother’s house. I followed her home and cooked fried rice. I went from never cooking at all to cooking fried rice at 13 years old.
Please tell me it ended well
Surprisingly, it did. My heart was in my mouth when she tasted it, but she said, “This is nice. Your mother taught you well.” She even said I’d cook for her the next time my mum wasn’t around. She paid me ₦3k, which I used to buy foodstuff and cook for my siblings before my mum returned. I was feeling like a small mummy. My mum was pleasantly surprised when I told her what happened.
Did the cooking gigs become regular?
Somewhat. My mum started passing down jobs to me during the weekends. All the money I made was for the house: I never really thought of it as mine. Besides, the only thing on my mind was finishing secondary school at 16 and doing what was expected of me: studying medicine so I could become a doctor and turn the family’s fortune around.
Nigerian millennials everywhere can relate
Well, I failed two core subjects in WAEC in 2011 and couldn’t get university admission that year. Even worse, it had taken serious convincing for my dad to add to what my mum had scraped together for my WAEC fees. When I failed, he said I was useless and concluded I’d get married because he had washed his hands off my education.
Since school wasn’t on the horizon, I got a teaching job at a nearby secondary school.
How much did it pay?
₦4k/month. I did the job for a few months till some family members convinced my parents to let me write NECO and JAMB. I got into university in 2013. It wasn’t medicine sha.
But my dad refused to pay my fees, and my mum had to do a lot of running around to raise my fees. He later chipped in, but it was mostly my mum. It was clear from that moment that I’d have to take care of myself in school. They’d settled school fees. Everything else would be on me.
How did you manage this?
I had a stint serving drinks at a bar three times a week for ₦4,500/month. But I stopped after a few months because the male customers kept touching me, and the bar owner was only interested in keeping his customers.
Then, I worked as an attendant at a fuel station for ₦7k/month. Since I was still in school, I shared a shift with someone else and only worked half days. I hated the job because I had to stand for hours. I left after about three months.
Also, I had a much older boyfriend — I was 19, and he was in his 40s — who used to give me ₦10k – ₦15k every other week. He also paid for my hostel accommodation once.
My boyfriend kept saying he wanted to marry me. I didn’t mind because he had a two-bedroom apartment, a car, and seemed rich. At least, I’d be comfortable. Anyway, I saved up most of the money he gave me and began selling beaded items in school.
Did you make them yourself?
Yes, I did. I’d make the beads and post them on Facebook. A bead set went for ₦2k – ₦2,500. My profit on each sale was about ₦1k.
On the side, I was making ₦5k or ₦7k cooking for some Yahoo boys I’d befriended in my apartment building. They liked my food, so the money was regular.
While that was going on, the guys noticed I was well-spoken and started asking me to check for typos in the messages they wanted to send to “clients” to confirm there weren’t any typos. Sometimes, I’d edit; other times, I’d help them write the messages. Anytime they got paid, they’d give me between ₦30k – ₦50k as appreciation. The highest I ever got was ₦100k.
Those were my major income sources between first year and second year of uni. I was making money — approximately ₦40k weekly — and even sending some home. Because of that, I stopped paying attention to school. I hardly attended classes because I couldn’t leave someone calling me to cook for one rubbish class.
That must’ve affected your grades
It did. I had F parallel during the second semester of my 200 level. I had so many carryovers to write. But I was focused on making money. So, I started selling essential oils, too. I was also trying to raise money to start a hair business. The plan was to get hair from a distributor and resell them. It was lucrative at the time, so I saved everything I made so I could invest in it.
Around this time, my relationship with the older guy had ended, and I met another one online. The new guy was in his 30s and lived in a different city. I think he was the first person who told me he loved me. I told him about my plan to start a hair business and he seemed proud that I was so hardworking. I had saved ₦300k+ by that time.
A few weeks after I told him about my plan, he called and said he’d been in an accident. Then he ended the call.
An accident?
I was confused too. He was unreachable for the next couple of hours, and I was worried. When he eventually called back, he said he was in the police station. Apparently, he’d hit a woman and her child with his car, and the police held him, asking for about ₦600k. He said his bank app wasn’t working and asked me to lend him the money, promising to pay back as soon as he was released.
I didn’t stop to think. I just thought, “Well, he’s my boyfriend” and sent him my entire savings. He encouraged me to borrow the remaining ₦200k from people, and I did. After he got the money, I didn’t hear from him again.
Damn
I didn’t suspect anything at first. I thought he was still in danger. After three days, I borrowed more money to travel to his city to check on him. I met an empty house, and it was obvious someone had just packed out. I asked a neighbour, and they said they saw him leave a few days ago, and it looked like he was relocating.
At that point, my whole world shattered. I have no idea how I returned home that day. I was walking on the road, and tears were falling down my face. How could I have been so stupid?
I’m so sorry
I had lost everything I’d ever worked for and was about ₦300k in debt. I couldn’t tell anyone what happened. I stopped attending classes and didn’t even go out. I honestly wanted to die.
I started to “borrow from Peter to pay Paul” when my creditors started calling for their money. I’d take new loans to pay my old ones. I even used loan apps to fund a gambling habit I developed.
I picked it up from a neighbour. I desperately needed money and I asked him to teach me how to play but he refused because “babes no dey do this kind thing”. Instead, he suggested I give him money so he’d play for me. If he won anything with my money, he’d take a small percentage and give me the rest. I thought it was a good idea, so I agreed.
I started giving him ₦500 – ₦1k here and there for him to place bets. I don’t even know if he was placing the bets or using my money to smoke weed. But every time he’d come and say the game “cut”, and I’d give him more money for another “sure game”. I don’t know if it was desperation, but I just believed I’d win big one day and clear all my debts.
Did you win big?
I didn’t win anything. I was still getting cooking gigs, but they didn’t come as frequently, and everything I made went into paying loans and feeding. At one point, I dropped out of school completely. I was keeping to myself a lot and my friends just thought I was going through heartbreak. They didn’t know about the loans. I didn’t want to ask for help because I felt like I needed to solve everything myself.
I became homeless because I couldn’t pay rent. I started moving from one friend’s house to the other. They didn’t know I was homeless. I’d just be like, “I want to come and stay with you for one week,” and then I’d move to the next friend. I ended up staying with some of them for up to a month at a stretch.
It was crazy. I sank into a bad depression and was in limbo from 2015 to 2017. In 2017, I had to open up to my friends because the compounding loans were killing me. They pulled funds together, and I started to clear the loans. But then I saw an investment opportunity that promised to triple my money in two weeks.
Hmmm
See, I was at the mercy of people giving me ₦10k – ₦20k, and I didn’t want to rely on that. I wanted to make my own money, too. So, I took ₦100k that people had gathered for me and put it in the firm, expecting to make ₦300k. That ended terribly. I never saw one kobo.
At that point, it felt like there was no end in sight to the series of bad financial decisions I was making.
Thankfully, my friends helped me clear my debts completely in 2018. That’s also when my parents realised I’d dropped out of school.
How?
My mates were already going for NYSC, so they obviously had questions. I told them, and they were so disappointed. I couldn’t even go back home because I was ashamed. By this time, I’d rented another apartment with a friend’s help, so I just stayed back around school.
But I didn’t have a job or business. My mates had finished school and moved on with their lives, and I was still there.
I had nothing to my name and didn’t even know who I was. I sank into another depressive period that lasted until 2020. This time, it came with suicidal tendencies. I’d constantly overdose on drugs, and my neighbours would break down my door and rush me to the hospital.
When I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was just existing. I’d go for days without eating until my friends sent me money. The last time I attempted suicide in 2020, someone told me, “Maybe you should just die so everyone will rest”.
Ah
I think, in the end, it was my friends’ encouragement that restored my will to live. They kept telling me things would get better, and I started to believe them. I was angry at this “things will get better” statement for a long time, though. I mean, I was a uni dropout in my 20s without a job, no relationship, and even my parents weren’t talking to me. Where was the “better”? But my friends didn’t let me give up.
Towards the end of 2020, I decided to return to cooking. It was the constant in my life, and I thought, if I could go to culinary school, I’d even be able to make a career out of it.
In early 2021, I got two steady clients. Between the two of them, I was sure of at least ₦100k/month.
Things were looking up
A little. But then my mum became hypertensive and had a stroke, and I had to start chipping in money for drugs. She was no longer with my dad, so I was also supporting my siblings in school. For every ₦100k I made, more than half went to my siblings and mum. So, that didn’t help with planning for my life or even culinary school.
What are things like these days?
Still pretty much the same. One of my siblings is waiting for NYSC and the other one is in final year at uni, and most of my money still goes back home. I really don’t think I’m living for myself. There’s always one need back home, and money is never enough. I have things bookmarked that I’d like to buy, but I can’t even think of buying them. I always think of home first.
Do you still rely on cooking gigs?
I learnt how to bake in 2022. Since culinary school wasn’t an option, I paid about ₦300k to learn to make cakes and small chops.
My plan was to set up a cute pastry shop, but I quickly realised it was capital intensive, so with the help of my friends again, I got a bigger ₦300k/year apartment with a big kitchen so I could bake in my kitchen and save on rent. It limits the number of cake orders I can get because some orders require storing products, which is a hassle without a freezer. The last time I priced a small freezer, it was ₦185k.
In a good month, I can earn between ₦100k – ₦150k from baking and cooking gigs. Sometimes, I don’t earn anything and have to rely on the grace and kindness of my friends. My financial life is very up and down.
You’ve mentioned your friends turning up for you a lot. Do you ever worry about relying on them too much?
All the time. I struggle with asking for help until things are falling apart. Anytime I have to pick my phone to ask for something, I feel regret and shame. These are my agemates, but I have to depend on them again and again.
My friends probably don’t feel the same, but I feel like a nuisance. It’s not great being the broke friend. No matter how kind people are, nothing beats the peace that comes with having my own money.
Plus, there’s a way people treat the broke friend. For instance, when my friends do things that piss me off, I can’t react or call them out because what if they choose to be vindictive and ignore me when I need help? It’s like I have to give away little parts of my dignity because I need them.
I’m also like the last person they think about for events or get-togethers. Like, why send an invite when I probably don’t even have money to attend? It hurts seeing the people I care about doing fun things and realising I’m the only one not there. But I can’t even be angry because if they invite me, I can’t afford it.
How many times will I say, “Sorry, I can’t make it”?
That’s relatable
But my friends are really good to me o. If not for them, I probably wouldn’t be alive to talk to you. I met most of them on social media, and they’ve helped my life. I just feel foolish that I can’t reciprocate. I’m the friend who writes long notes on birthdays because I can’t buy a gift. They love the notes, but I want to buy them gifts. I feel inadequate.
Sorry you feel that way. Let’s break down your monthly expenses
In a month that I earn ₦100k, my expenses typically go like this:
It involves a lot of manoeuvring to make it work. My toiletries are just sanitary pads and deodorant. That my savings figure is a delusional thing I like to do. I remove ₦10k and put it in a savings app, but then I collect it two days later when I need money. All my money goes into black tax and trying to survive. I honestly feel like I’m just existing.
How would you describe your relationship with money?
I always have anxiety no matter how much I have. I feel like there’s one bill coming that’ll take it all, so I always need more. Money is the only safety I know. I don’t want to return to the point I was years ago — gambling and in debt. I want to have so much money to the point where I never have to worry about it again.
How have your experiences shaped how you think about money?
Money gives you human dignity. Not having it can make you less than human. People can disagree and say, “But you can have a good quality of life without money”. It’s a lie. I’ve seen poverty, and I’ve seen how people treat me when they think I have money and when they know I’m completely broke.
It may be unintentional, but there’s this condescension towards poor people. People are always ready to advise me, like I’m completely clueless. They say, “Oh, why can’t you start a business?”. My darling, it’s money I’ll use to start it. Or “Why not learn a tech skill?” Sweetheart, it’s still money I’ll use to buy a laptop and data. People think I don’t have money because I’m stupid. Like all my problems would disappear if I only listened to their advice.
That’s a lot to think about. Are you still pursuing culinary school?
Oh yes. It’s still a dream. I want to become a chef so I can tell my mum I’ve taken her cooking gigs a step further. When this happens, I can confidently say I have a career. You can ask my friends what they do, and they quickly respond, “Software developer”. But I don’t have one straight answer. I have to start explaining how I bake, cook and write sometimes. That’s why I need this to happen.
But culinary school would require me to leave my state, move to Lagos, and spend a couple millions on school fees. I don’t have that yet. I’d also like to return to school one day and get my degree, but that feels like a far-fetched dream.
How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1 – 10?
1. I can’t afford a good life. I’m always scraping the bottom. I can’t even afford to lose ₦100 from my account. I’m always anxious, and it’s not a great way to live. I feel like I’m failing at life.
If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.
