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

    Demilade* (28) and her best friend,*Folusho (30), met in secondary school and were thick as thieves. Their relationship was rocky because of Folusho’s anger issues, but they tried to work around it. 

    On Sunken Ships, Demilade shares how their friendship slowly unravelled because she began to fear the one person she thought would never hurt her.

    How did you guys meet?

    We met in secondary school in 2013. Folusho was two years older but held back by academic performance. So I was in SS 2 while he was in SS 1. 

    One day, we were both picked up late from school, and we started talking. That’s how we became friends. A year later, we’d grown to be best friends. 

    What was your friendship with him like? 

    It was great. Over the course of our eight-year friendship, we shared a lot with each other. We both loved the same music. I got him into books, and he introduced me to comics. I helped him study so he could get better grades until we both left school. Our friendship continued even though we went to different universities. Our families knew we were good friends, and we visited each other often. There was just one problem. He had crazy anger management problems.

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    How do you mean?

    When he got angry or upset in school, he would raise his voice or throw things. If the person he was arguing with was a boy, it would ofen escalate into a physical fight. Then I’d run there and be saying, “Folusho, this isn’t you.” 


    In retrospect, it was very stupid, but I did it because he had never turned that ire on me, no matter how heated our arguments got. I just assumed he flared up because boys didn’t know how to respect his boundaries. 

    Did you ever try to talk to him outside the heat of a fight about his anger issues?

    Yes, I did, but he explained that he often lashed out because he was maltreated at home due to his poor academic performance. I could understand where he was coming from, so I kept telling him to keep a cool head. For a long time, our friendship went smoothly despite his struggle with his anger.

    So what changed?

    His dad threw a birthday party in 2019 and Folusho invited me and a bunch of other friends. His siblings were there as well, and we were having a great time. Then at some point, he and his younger sister got into a disagreement, and it escalated into a huge shouting match. 

    They were beginning to draw attention at the party, so I tried to step in to tell Folusho to calm down. Instead of calming him down, things went left quickly.

    What happened?

    He turned all of his anger on me. He started yelling that I was always trying to make him into something he wasn’t. He called me dumb bitch and shoved me into a table. I couldn’t believe it. I was covered in soup and jollof rice. 

    Ah.

    Yes, o. At that point, people intervened and took him out of the venue. I was deeply embarrassed and surprised. I never imagined that he would ever say things like that to me or try to hurt me.

    Did he reach out to apologise?

    He sent a bunch of messages on WhatsApp saying he was sorry and that he was just overwhelmed when he pushed me. I accepted his apology, but I put a little distance between us and blamed it on my final-year struggles. 

    Honestly, I realised I didn’t feel safe with him any longer. I kept flashing back to his other fights and wondering if or when he would decide he was overwhelmed enough to hit me.

    Did you share these fears with him? 

    I tried to tell, but he brushed it off, saying that in all our years of friendship, he has had only one outburst towards me. He asked me not to think the worst of him. I tried not to until it happened again. 

    If you enjoyed this, you’ll also enjoy: Sunken Ships: My Flatmates Didn’t Speak To Me Until They Moved out

    Tell me about it.

    In 2021, my boyfriend at the time came to our city to visit, and we all decided to go out for the night. Around 2:00 am, when we were going back home, Folusho’s car broke down on the road. We stopped to help him out, but it wasn’t an issue that could be fixed quickly. So I advised that we leave the car parked and return for it during the day with a mechanic. After that, I went to sit in my boyfriend’s car.

    Folusho didn’t like that, and instead of disagreeing or insisting that we should stay, he walked up to the passenger side of the car and punched it. I was so scared.

    Whoa, that’s scary.

    He didn’t break the glass or anything, but that was so unhinged to me. My boyfriend got upset and took me home. I decided that it was best for our friendship to come to an end.

    Did he apologise in this instance as well?

    Of course. Over the next couple of days, he bombarded me with apology messages and sent me photos from our snap memories, saying I should think of how precious our friendship was and that he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise it. It felt like I was being emotionally blackmailed.

    I wanted to forgive him again, but at this point, I was genuinely afraid of what would happen if he had an outburst when no one was there to help me. I decided to choose myself.

    What did you do?

    I sent him a text saying I forgave him, but I never wanted to speak to him again. I soft-blocked him on all our social media, and I’ve been trying to put our friendship behind me. It’s been hard. My family asks after him all the time, and it’s like the wound reopens each time.

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    Has Folusho tried to reconnect with you since that last outburst?

    Yes, he still comments with happy birthday wishes under my posts each year—however, we’re certainly no longer friends. 

    Would you rekindle your friendship with him if you had proof that he had worked on his anger management?

    I can’t say for certain he’ll never hit me, and that’s not a reality I can live with. I think our friendship has run its course. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I’ve accepted it.

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

    What do you do when the person you consider family chooses someone else over you? In this Sunken Ships, we spoke with Ifeoluwa*(37), whose friendship with Ibrahim started on the basketball court and grew into brotherhood. 

    Things took a dark turn after they let a mutual friend, Ebele, move in. What started as an act of kindness became the beginning of the end. Ifeoluwa shares how lies, manipulation, and misplaced trust tore his closest friendship apart and how he’s still missing the bond he shared with Ibrahim.

    Let’s start from day one. How did your friendship with Ibrahim take off?

    My family had just moved to a new neighbourhood in 2006. Nearby, there was a recreational centre where boys my age would play soccer and basketball. I was an avid basketball player, and I loved joining the small teams that played on the weekends. It was during one of these matches while waiting on the sidelines that Ibrahim and I hit it off.

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    What was your friendship with Ibrahim like?

    It was like gaining a brother. Our friendship began because we instantly bonded over our love for rap music. Ibrahim wanted to be a rapper and was a fantastic lyricist. He would freestyle for us between sets, and we would exchange our favourite rap CDs when we met at the court on weekends.

    In fact, we were so close that I lived in his family’s house for more than a decade.

    How did that come about?

    By late 2008, I had tried to get into university thrice, but I never got admission despite passing JAMB and post UTME with flying colours. My parents chalked it up to us not having “leg” or an inside person and urged me to try again. But after three years of my life at home and the amount of effort I put into those exams, I decided I wanted to learn a skill instead.

    My father hated the idea of me not going to university, so he called my bluff with a crazy ultimatum. I could either sit up, write JAMB again and go to university, or I could find somewhere else to live. We got into a shouting match, and I decided to leave. 

    If you enjoyed this, you’ll also enjoy reading: Sunken Ships: 27 Years After She Dumped Me, She Wants Me Back

    Wow. That must have shocked your dad.

    He was so shocked, but so was I. I didn’t really have a plan. All I knew was that I was good with computers, and I could pull an idea or two together on CorelDRAW. The main issue became my accommodation. On that first night, I went to Ibrahim’s house and poured my heart out to him about my struggles. He was attending a private university, but my parents couldn’t afford the same for me. 

    My plight moved Ibrahim so much that he spoke to his mum about me. A kind woman, she gave Ibrahim and me the guest house attached to their home. I could live there while Ibrahim was in school, but her only condition was that I was to be gainfully employed. I leapt at the offer immediately, and for the next ten or so years, we lived as housemates. 

    How was living with Ibrahim’s family like?

    It was great. His family fed us every day, and we could go to the main house to hang out with his siblings and mum, but we felt like grown-ups living in the guest house. I started an apprenticeship at a printing shop near the city centre and started developing graphic design and merchandise production skills. Over time, I also became cordial with his three siblings, and his mum began to confide in me when Ibrahim wasn’t around. They basically adopted me.

    What went wrong then?

    In 2018, a mutual friend of ours, Ebele, was in a terrible living situation. It reminded me of when I was in those shoes, so I spoke with Ibrahim about letting him live with us since we had an extra room in the guest house, and he obliged when I vouched for Ebele. But not long after Ebele moved in with us, things started getting weird.

    How so? Can you give me an example?

    Ebele was a sly fellow and, in his need to curry favour from Ibrahim’s family, always tried to paint me in a bad light. There are several examples I can give, but one really stood out to me. In 2019, a close relative of the family passed away, and we were all invited to the burial ceremony. I had gotten into an argument with Ibrahim earlier that week, so we weren’t talking like we usually did. He told Ebele to give me the burial details, but he never did. 

    I travelled for work on that weekend, and while I was away, I got a call from Ibrahim’s mum. She sounded upset and disappointed that I didn’t come to the burial. I tried to explain that I wasn’t aware of the date, but she said Ebele already said I’d give that excuse. She said Ebele told the family that I told him I would deliberately miss the funeral because of my argument with Ibrahim. He lied that I claimed that no one was going to do anything. I was so shocked. No explanation I gave could satisfy them; they believed Ebele instead of me. 

    That must have hurt. I’m sorry.

    It did, and what made it worse was that my relationship with everyone in that house started going downhill from that time. I even got accused of stealing once! Something that had never come up in the entire decade I had lived at that house before Ebele joined us.

    My friendship with Ibrahim especially suffered. He started by keeping his unreleased songs from me. I found out later that it was because Ebele told him I actually hated his music and I didnt think he was a good artist. That useless Ebele boy was actually the thorn in my flesh. Soon, it felt like Ibrahim was doing everything to he could to avoid spending time alone with me.

    Did you ever confront Ebele about his lies?

    Yes, but he was unapologetic. He told me I wasn’t “sharp” and no one was going to believe me over him. He threatened me and told me that Ibrahim’s house wasn’t big enough for both of us, and he wouldn’t rest until I left.

    I really wish I had recorded that conversation because Ibrahim didn’t believe me when I warned him to be cautious around Ebele. I don’t know how he did it, but the family trusted him so much that by the end of 2022, I felt completely alone and shut out, even though the house was full of people.

    I’m so sorry about that. What did you do next?

    What options did I have? I didn’t do anything. One day in March 2023, Ibrahim’s mum called me aside and told me I should start making plans to move out and live elsewhere. Ebele had a “vision” that there were “strangers” in the house acting as a conduit for negative energy to come into the house. Of course, the “stranger” was me, and Ibrahim’s mum asked me to leave.  I was gutted. Ibrahim’s place really felt like a second home for me.

    In July 2023, I moved out without fanfare to a miniflat in a different part of town. Ibrahim didn’t even say goodbye to me when I packed up the last of my things. It was really hurtful.

    What’s your friendship with Ibrahim like these days?

    Estranged is the best way to describe it. I reach out to him every now and again, and he gives one-word responses. Meanwhile, on his Instagram, he and Ebele seem to be thick as thieves. 

    I heard a gist from one of our mutual friends, though, that all is not well in paradise, and Ebele is getting kicked out as well. I’ll be so happy when that happens. 

    What did they say is going on?

    Apparently, Ibrahim’s mum took the “stranger danger” vision seriously and now wants ALL strangers out of her house. She has sent away all the maids, and now Ebele is the last stranger standing. I’m hearing he has until August this year to get new accommodation.

    How does this make you feel?

    My enemy’s despair is music to my ears, o. Anything he sees there, he should collect it. Sebi he was the one seeing visions and dreams.

    Fair enough. What about Ibrahim? Would you reconcile with him if he reached out to you or showed an interest?

    In a heartbeat. He has hurt me a lot but he is my blood. We have seen each other through some of the worst phases of our lives, and I miss him. I think if he ever wants to fix our friendship, the door is always open for him. Ebele can eat dirt for all I care ,sha. That dude is not my guy.

    Has your experience with Ibrahim and Ebele changed the way you navigate friendships?

    I gatekeep my friends now, and I don’t mix my friend groups anymore. After my experience with Ebele, I’ve started to doubt how discerning I am about my pals. I think when I become more confident in my ability to judge character, I can relax a bit and mix different friend groups again.

    If you want us to share your own Sunken Ships story, fill out this form!

  • Friendship breakups hurt, but sometimes, people say things so wild they make you question your entire relationship with them. 

    We asked six Nigerians to tell us the exact moment they knew a friendship had to end, and the toxic beliefs that pushed them to that point. 

    “He said beating a woman is just ‘discipline’” — *Amina, 26

    Sometimes, discovering friendship deal-breakers comes as a shock. For *Amina, it was realising her close friend supported domestic violence.

    “I had this friend I was super close to. One day, I sent him a tweet downplaying physical abuse, expecting us to drag it together. Instead, he said women exaggerate abuse and that sometimes, a man needs to ‘discipline’ his woman.

    He added that his dad beats his mum when she ‘oversteps’, and he wouldn’t mind doing it to his wife if she did.  That was my last conversation with him. I blocked him immediately. There was no need for goodbyes. Why should I be friends with someone like that?”

    “He was joining a ‘misunderstood’ cult” — *Mary, 30

    *Mary ran faster than her shadow when her crush revealed a secret so unsettling, she couldn’t compromise. 

    “*Andrew was a dependable friend who was always there for me. I even had a slight crush on him. One day, we got talking about spirituality, and I mentioned that I attend Cherubim and Seraphim. He got really comfortable and told me his dad is a top member of the Ogboni cult. He claimed they’re mostly misunderstood and casually said that when a member dies, they cut off a part of the person to preserve for the cult. He added that his own initiation was coming up in a few months. 

    I never waited to find out how misunderstood they were. I started avoiding him immediately.”

    “He tried to get me addicted to Colorado” — *Olamide, 24

    Living with a friend can either bring you closer or reveal their true colours. In *Olamide’s case, he got to know of *Tomiwa’s toxic habit and nearly got pulled in.

    “My friend, Tomiwa, had issues with his landlord, and so I let him stay with me for a while. I didn’t know he was a full-blown Colorado addict. He smoked like he had spare lungs. 

    At first, I took a few puffs when he offered, but I noticed myself getting pulled in. My house reeked of smoke. Tomiwa never cleaned up after himself and got mad when I asked him to reduce smoking.

    I eventually kicked him out, and that led to a huge fight that eventually ended our friendship. We don’t speak anymore, and I have no regrets.” 

    “She took me to a herbalist to get pregnant” — *Chioma, 37

    Desperation sometimes drives people to extremes. *Chioma thought her friend, Ada, took her’s too far.

    “I struggled to conceive for a long time. Doctors said everything was fine, but nothing was happening. Out of frustration, I turned to prayer meetings. That’s where I met *Ada, who introduced me to a Kaduna pastor who helped her conceive. After praying, he handed me a list of items for spiritual cleansing.

    It was a long list with weird items like white doves, 50 litres of palm oil, and a tortoise’s penis. It felt like I was in an episode of African magic. He said I could just pay ₦400k and he’d get them for me. I called Ada aside and told her he sounded more like a herbalist than a pastor, but she insisted I proceed.

    I played along, paid half the money and his transport, just to get out of there. Then I blocked his number and avoided Ada. Thank God I was patient. I now have two children, and no tortoise had to die.”

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    “He told me it was a woman’s job to feed him” — *Mimi, 27

    *Mimi didn’t know her re-connection with Abdul would turn her into a personal chef. His misogynistic mindset was her final dealbreaker. 

    “My childhood friend, *Abdul, and I reconnected when we got into the same uni abroad. It felt great to have someone from home with me. We did a lot together, and I even cooked for him often. I concluded he was just struggling to afford takeout, since he wasn’t earning much.

    One day, I asked why he never tried cooking. Abdul said, “Why would I need to cook when I have you?” I thought he was joking until he added, ‘My mum and sister cook for me at home. If you weren’t here, I’d find another woman to feed me.’

    That was my reality check. I also noticed Abdul only checked in when he needed something. I  once went through a horrible breakup and needed support, but he didn’t show up for me. That was my sign he needed to go.”

    “Male friendships are transactional to her” — *Dayo, 28

    *Dayo had to learn the painful way that his long-term friend only saw him as her ATM. 

    “In uni, I had this female friend who used to call me ‘bestie.’ To her, that title came with expectations. Somehow, I was the one paying for her nails, lunch and random things. I found it odd, but I shrugged it off as being generous.

    After uni, we drifted apart, until she found out I’d been in a terrible accident. She reached out, checked in a couple of times, and it felt nice to have her back. But less than a week later, she texted me to pay for her hair. Mind you, I’d just gotten out of surgery.

    That was when it clicked that our entire friendship was a financial transaction to her. I didn’t respond. I haven’t heard from her since.”

    “He said sex couldn’t wait because I have a Vagina“— *Regina, 23

    *Regina realised early that if someone sees your body as something they’re entitled to, the relationship isn’t worth holding on to. 

    “*Mike and I were friends first before things started getting romantic. When I noticed, I told him that I planned to wait till marriage before sex. He knew I was a strong Christian, so I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal. 

    But he snapped and said, “I’ll be horny when you have a vagina, and you think you can tell me to wait?” That statement was so jarring, and it made me rethink every red flag I’d glossed over. I remembered his off-hand jokes about women and how he casually rated girls like they were meat on a shelf. 

    I slowly ghosted him. He tried reaching out a few times, but I never responded. For me, some values just aren’t up for debate.”

    “They think cheating should be normal” — *Qosim, 29

    *Qosim’s story proves that sometimes, it’s not one big betrayal that ends a friendship, but the slow realisation that your values no longer align. 

    “My friend group had very questionable views about fidelity. They constantly bragged about cheating on their wives and girlfriends, and were planning a boy’s trip with the sole aim of sleeping with women from different countries. They saw absolutely nothing wrong with it and even accused me of pretending to be holy. 

    It really bothered me. I have strong personal values about relationships, and let’s be honest, friends rub off on each other. I knew that if I stayed around that energy for too long, I might end up compromising my relationship. So, I started to pull away.”

    Read Next: 6 Nigerians Open Up on Why They Cut Off Their Sibling

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  • Friendships come in different forms, but Yoruba auntie friendships? Those are a league of their own. They’re more about full-fledged commitment to the clique, owambes, uniformed aso ebi that costs a fortune, and the silent rule that you must never be the odd one out.  But what happens when an auntie decides she’s had enough? We spoke to five Nigerian women over 50 who chose to walk away from their long-time friendship groups — and never looked back.

    “I realised they didn’t rate me” — *Bose, 55

    Nothing stings more than realising your friends have deliberately left you out of something. It’s even worse when their excuse is that they thought they were doing you a favour. That’s exactly how *Bose knew it was time to move on.

    “I’ve been friends with these women for over a decade. We’ve done birthdays, weddings, and countless owambes together. But last year, one of them threw a massive 50th birthday party, and they all showed up in matching lace except me. Nobody told me about it. When I asked why, they said they assumed I wouldn’t want to buy it because it was expensive, and I’d been complaining about the cost of previous ones. That was my wake-up call. If they truly considered me a friend, they wouldn’t have left me out and made me feel like an outsider. I didn’t fight them, but I slowly stopped attending the group’s events.”

    “They turned my kindness into an insult” — *Shade, 51

    People always say “it’s the thought that counts” when it comes to gifts, but for *Shade’s friends, only expensive gifts were good enough. After years of friendship, she was shocked to realise they valued her money more than her presence.

    “I’m a single mum putting two children through university, so I don’t have money to waste. At every party, my friends hand out souvenirs like expensive blenders and food processors, but I keep it simple with detergent. After a while, I noticed two of them started acting distant. It all came to a head at a party when they deliberately left my souvenir on the table while leaving. When I asked them about it, they said I always gave ‘cheap’ gifts despite them going all out for me. I was hurt because they know my financial situation. That night, we had a heated argument, and I decided I was done with the group.”

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    ALSO READ: You’ll Find These Women in a Yoruba Mummy’s Social Circle

    “I got tired of trying to keep up” — *Funmi, 50

    For some women, friendships are a sisterhood. For others, they’re an extreme sport. Funmi spent years keeping up with hers, until she realised she couldn’t anymore.

    “Every weekend, there was one party or the other. Each one came with an aso ebi that ran into hundreds of thousands. And it wasn’t just that, you were still expected to hand out expensive souvenirs, and even your jewellery couldn’t be repeated too often, so it wouldn’t look like you didn’t have enough.

    I managed for years, stretching myself just to keep up. But at some point, I started withdrawing. I started turning down invites. When they brought new aso ebi, I told them I couldn’t buy it. Obviously, once I stopped participating, the calls became less frequent. Then, they stopped altogether. That’s how the friendship fizzled out. I didn’t even fight it. At my age, I know when something is no longer meant for me.”

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    “I was the problem because I chose myself” — *Helen, 52

    Leaving her marriage was hard enough, but *Helen never expected that the real battle would be with her own friends.

    “I thought they’d be my safe space, but instead, they treated me like I was doing something shameful. I had known these women for decades, women who had seen me struggle in that marriage. But when I finally left, they acted like I was betraying them. Most of them were still married, and I realised they weren’t just upset about my divorce; they were scared. My decision made them question their own marriages and wonder if they were truly happy or just enduring. It was easier for them to frame me as the problem than to confront their doubts.

    They didn’t come right out and say it, but I heard it in their comments: ‘Marriage is not easy, but we endure.’ ‘At our age, starting over is risky.’ One even said, ‘What will people say?’ as if that was supposed to matter more than my peace of mind. The final straw was when one of them called my ex to ‘pray’ for us to get back together. That was it. I realised they weren’t my friends, they were just women who needed me to stay in a bad marriage so they could feel better about staying in theirs. So, I chose myself and walked away.”

    “I was the bad person for wanting my own jewelry back” — *Adija, 56

    Yoruba auntie friendships thrive on trust and favours. But what happens when a friend takes advantage of that trust? *Adija, 54, learned the hard way when a close friend borrowed her gold jewelry worth millions and refused to return it.

    “I should have known better than to mix friendship and valuables, but when a close friend asked to borrow my gold jewelry set for her daughter’s wedding, I didn’t think twice. This wasn’t just any set; it was worth millions, a gift from my husband on our 25th anniversary.

    Weeks passed after the wedding, and she kept making excuses. ‘Let me hold it till my niece’s introduction.’ ‘I’ve been so busy, I forgot to bring it.’ Meanwhile, I kept seeing her wear it to different events. When I finally went to her house to demand it back, she acted like I was being dramatic. She told me she’d bring it later, but I refused to leave without it.

    The real shocker came when our mutual friends sided with her. They said I embarrassed her by showing up at her house. That I threw away years of friendship over ‘just jewelry.’ If I could do this to her, they said, what’s stopping me from doing it to them? As if I was the one who borrowed millions worth of gold and refused to return it. We’re still cordial, but I know where I stand now. Some friendships only work when you’re the one being taken for granted.

    READ THIS NEXT: How Do You Deal With A Friendship Breakup? Nigerians Share Their Experiences

  • We’re celebrating Women all month long and what’s sweeter than a great friendship?  We love a sisterhood over here, so to celebrate, we went out and spoke to some young women about the female friendships that have impacted them positively, and we got to hear some amazing stories. Enjoy! 

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    “She helped boost my self-confidence” — Jade*, 26

    In what ways has this friendship been special/transformative for you?

    So we met in our first year of university because we were in the same department and hostel, and became fast friends.
    My parents were overprotective, so I grew up very sheltered. I also had two siblings who were more academically adept than I was (and my younger sister was much prettier—which people constantly told me). So when I got to university, I was sorely lacking in self-confidence.

    My best friend Temi* was the exact opposite. I’d never met anyone that was so self-assured. So when she’d tell me that I was beautiful and intelligent for the first time in my sixteen years of life, I actually started to believe it. I was really mean to myself when I was younger about everything, but she was always there to reassure me.

    We also wore roughly the same size, and she liked clothes, so when she did routine declutters, she’d always save the best for me and give suggestions on how to pair them. 

    Our friendship has really boosted my self-confidence in my looks, my intelligence, and my self-worth. It has also made me more intentional about the type of men I allow in my space.

    What’s one experience during your friendship that has really stood out to you?

    In our second year in school, I was in a friends-with-benefits situation with a guy because he claimed he didn’t like labels. Once, he left me stranded after I had travelled from Ife to Ibadan to see him. He basically wasn’t reachable, and I had to make several calls to estranged friends from secondary school to find a place to sleep that night because it was late by the time I gave up on reaching him. The guy called me a week later to apologize because his phone was bad and promised it wouldn’t happen again a second time.

    When I told Temi about my plans to go and see this guy again, she said, and I remember it verbatim, “Jade, you’re a beautiful woman. Even if he doesn’t rate you, why don’t you rate yourself?”

    After that, my standard for dating men became any man that I knew she’d approve of — I was still working on my self-worth at the time, so it was just easier to judge men based on what Temi thought I deserved). It saved me a lot of heartbreak and embarrassment till I was more confident in myself and my choices. She’s still my go-to whenever I feel down.

    “Even though my husband disapproved, she encouraged me to forge ahead in my profession” — Bolade*, 54

    In what ways has this friendship been special/transformative for you?

    We have been friends since we attended Sacred Hearts Primary School in Ibadan in the 70s. She has been a constant source of encouragement to me throughout our friendship.
    Even though my husband disapproved, she encouraged me to forge ahead in my profession and that has allowed me to get to where I am today. I will always be grateful to God for her.

    What’s one experience during your friendship that has really stood out to you?

    My best friend got pregnant when we were in our final year of polytechnic study. It was a gruelling time and I had to help me do basically everything because the pregnancy was tough on her. What really stood out to me then was that even though she could barely move because of exhaustion and morning sickness, she would write me pages of letters about how much she appreciated my help and how she would repay me when she got better.

    Her daughter is almost thirty years old today and it feels like she’s my daughter too. Our many years together has been more than enough repayment in my eyes.

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    “They uplift me, remind me how special I am and hold me accountable.” — Tola*, 25

    In what ways has this friendship been special/transformative for you?

    I really feel lucky to have a group of female friends who don’t make me feel alone. They uplift me, remind me how special I am and sometimes, when necessary, they hold me accountable. I think it’s also important to mention that my friendships aren’t perfect. There are certain friends I can’t share all parts of myself with but, I don’t love them less, I can simply see that there might be parts of me they can’t understand yet. However, I still have other female friends that nurture the parts of me that are hidden.

    Sometimes, I try to hold everything inside. Their friendship made me realize that I don’t have to feel alone; I can always share what I’m feeling with my girls.

    What’s one experience during your friendship that has really stood out to you?

    We went together as a group to support one of our friends because her dad had passed a day before her birthday. We wanted to show our support, and we got attacked by some of her dad’s family members for bringing up her birthday. They called us all sorts of names. 

    Long story short, we stood up for each other that day. It was a bit funny because one person started crying, and soon enough, almost all of us were crying while they were chasing us away. The whole thing made me realize that these are my people. We cry and laugh together, and we defend each other no matter what. 

    Just like birds of a feather flock together, the hottest babes in the world are coming together next month to party at HERtitude 2025! Grab your tickets here so you don’t miss the best women-only party of the year.

    “Her support is my greatest superpower.” — Biola*, 33

    In what ways has this friendship been special/transformative for you?

    I have a really poor relationship with my half sisters because of our family dynamic and Dera’s friendship— going on fifteen years now— has completely redefined what sisterhood means to me.
    She essentially adopted me into her own family and we have been sisters since. We’ve been thick as thieves since JSS 1 and as we grow older it just gets better. I’m happy I have someone to rely on, to gist and gossip with and to bare my soul to. She’s very special to me.

    What’s one experience during your friendship that has really stood out to you?

    When I lost my job in 2023, she had me move in with her for almost six months. During that time, she helped me revamp and CV, sent me job applications that we filled together and encouraged me after every rejection letter. She didn’t let me go back to my place until I got a new and better paying job. Her support is my greatest superpower.

    “she has never stopped believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” — Jemi*, 21

    In what ways has this friendship been special/transformative for you?

    I used to be bullied a lot in secondary school, and she always had my back. Even after I eventually left the school, she never stopped defending me. When I struggled academically, she was there to help me pick up, and she has never stopped believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. 

    Knowing I always have someone in my corner has helped me so much mentally. I also make better financial decisions now because she gave me some of the best financial advice.

    What’s one experience during your friendship that has really stood out to you? 

    It’s hard to pick just one, but coming out to her as bisexual and not feeling judged for it made me feel safe and normal. She didn’t blow it out of proportion; she just treated it as she would if I was talking about any other thing.

    “She has made me believe in the power of sisterhood.” — Shola*, 27

    In what ways has this friendship been special/transformative for you?

    I struggle with depression and used to have the worst coping habits when I was in a downward slump. Meeting Simi* has completely changed that for me. She showed me healthier ways to deal with my emotions and better ways to express myself. She’s my favourite person.

    Because of her, I am no longer afraid of the future. There is literally nothing I can’t do as long as we’re together. She has made me believe in the power of sisterhood.

    What’s one experience during your friendship that has really stood out to you? 

    When we were in our final year of university, my laptop crashed and I lost the first three chapters of my project that I’d spent all my money and time on. I decided I was going to drop out and gave up on redoing it. 

    This babe came to my room in school pretending she wanted to come for a sleepover and spent the entire night piecing my project back together from the notes on my table and earlier versions I had sent to our group chat. That act still leaves me speechless today: it was the only reason I was able to graduate. I can’t quantify my love for this woman.

    “They have given me a community that is not bound by distance.” — Sarah*, 28

    In what ways has this friendship been special/transformative for you?

    My friend group has been with me through thick and thin. I had to move out of the country for school when I was sixteen and despite the time difference, they were intentional about checking in on me, encouraging me and making sure I had community because I attended a school with very few black people. After school, when I was struggling to get a job, they would chip in money and send it to me to buy coffee or a nice lunch and that really touched me.

    They have given me a community that is not bound by distance. I visit Nigeria as often as I can, and it doesn’t feel like I ever left. Those girls are my sisters for life.

    What’s one experience during your friendship that has really stood out to you? 

    It’s very hard for me to study by myself so during my exam prep, they’d hop on a group video call with me and study or read a book just so I didn’t feel alone and I could concentrate. I graduated in the top percentile of my class, and I always attribute my success to their support.

    If you enjoyed reading this you’ll also enjoy: Then vs Now: 5 Nigerian Muslims on How Ramadan With Their Partner Has Evolved

  • The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad. 

    Adeola (21), the subject of this week’s Abroad Life, has never had a boyfriend. She assumed her luck would change when she moved to Australia, but it’s been two years, and she still can’t figure out where the single men are. She discusses why she prefers male friends and doesn’t think dating apps or Nigerian men are for her. 

    Where do you live now, and how long have you been away from Nigeria?

    I currently live in Queensland, Australia, and I left Nigeria in November 2022

    What was the motivation behind your move?

    There wasn’t any real motivation. My dad lives here, and he wanted me to join him.

    How has life been since you moved?

    Life has been good compared to when I was living in Nigeria. I couldn’t work in Nigeria, but I earn reasonably good money here. The only thing I don’t understand yet is where to find single men in Australia.

    How come?

    It’s not even just single men. I can’t find any Nigerian my age here. For the single guy’s thing, I’m not the only person that’s worried about it. All my immigrant friends can’t seem to find boyfriends, too, and I’m like, “What’s going on here?” It’s a problem for me—I don’t like clubbing or partying, so that might explain why I’m still single. But I’ve not seen any Nigerian person my age here. 

    How old are you?

    I’m 21.

    Interesting. Let’s talk a bit about your life in Nigeria. What did that look like, exactly?

    It was pretty chill. I’m an only child, so there wasn’t much to it.  I just wake up and sleep. Sometimes, I’ll go out with my mom or go to her shop. I was at a public university but didn’t get to do much there either because an ASUU strike started after I resumed. 

    Would you say you had more friends in Nigeria than you do now?

    Oh, definitely. I had a good number of male friends. I met most of my male friends at the university. I didn’t have many friends in secondary school, so it was actually nice to connect with people at university. Leaving those friends I had managed to make was one of the saddest parts of relocating to Australia. They didn’t even know I was leaving them because I didn’t tell them I moved until a month later. You know how you’re not supposed to expose some things because of your village people. 

    Please share why telling your friends you were relocating could have jinxed it.

    Ten years ago, I had the opportunity to travel. My mom and I told so many people, but it ended badly. When I was applying to move to Australia, our pastor told us not to tell anyone, so we didn’t. Australia is a hard place to get into, and even though we didn’t tell anyone, it was still hard to get in.

    I’m glad it worked out for you.  Were you in a relationship before you left Nigeria?

    No, I wasn’t in. I believed in focusing on my studies, so I didn’t date anyone in Nigeria.

    So, what changed when you moved to Australia?

    The culture here encourages young people to date. I’m talking about starting from 15—or 14-year-olds. Everybody kind of expects you to have a boyfriend. Even my colleagues at work always ask if I’m dating.

    What’s the reason why you haven’t found someone?

    In Nigeria, people can approach and woo you anywhere, but they don’t do that here. They mostly use dating apps.  Sometimes, you meet people in the club, but I don’t go to clubs. My white friends found their boyfriends in high school, and that’s not exactly a method I can recreate.

    Have you tried using the dating apps?

    I have tried dating apps, but I still don’t get them. I don’t even know what to write on my bio because it feels like I’m begging someone to date me. And I’m not like all those model-pretty girls you’ll see their profile pictures and go, “Oh, my God, she’s so pretty; let me ask for her number.” I always end up uninstalling the apps.

    Is being in a relationship a priority to you?

    Low key, I don’t want a relationship. What I’m looking for is male friends.  I have a lot of female friends now, which is something I’m grateful for, but  I’m not used to it. I’m just used to having male friends. Also, my female friends are not Nigerians, so it makes it easier to miss my friends back home.

    So what you’re looking for is Nigerian friends?

    I want someone who I can speak  Yoruba or English to without faking an accent. I’m tired of putting on this accent. I want to crack jokes without explaining what the joke means, and that’s why I want a relationship.

    What kind of man are you looking for?

    I don’t want a Nigerian man.

    I thought you said you were looking for people you can relate with

    Yes, but not necessarily a Nigerian. I like BTS, so I’m more into Asian guys. I also don’t mind an Australian guy, but he must be at least six feet tall. I’m a bit tall, so I want someone taller. He must also be God-fearing and shouldn’t be a fan of clubbing. I also don’t want to date someone who likes dogs or is irreligious.

    I’m curious: why don’t you want a Nigerian boyfriend?

    I haven’t really met a Nigerian man who’s a good example of what a boyfriend should be. My male friends back home were great, but I don’t know what they are like in relationships. A lot of Nigerian men want to be respected just because they are men. But if I find a Nigerian man who thinks like a good person, I will give it a chance.

    Thank you for sharing that. You mentioned moving to Australia to be with your dad; how’s that going?

    We are not living together because he’s hard-headed, and I didn’t feel like putting up with it. He’s probably somewhere in the country, but I don’t know where he is precisely. He might be going through a midlife crisis. I  lived with him and my stepfamily for about a year, but that didn’t work out for everybody because they wanted me to cook every day. I got tired of it and moved out. 

    What was his reaction to you moving out?

     At first, my dad didn’t agree with me moving out, but I was keen on it. When I lived with him, he could walk into my room, find me sleeping, and ask me why I was asleep. These were things that even my mom didn’t use to do.

    When I first talked about moving out, he said I’d only be allowed to leave whenever I get married. One day, he changed his mind for reasons I didn’t know and allowed me to move out. My dad is a very complicated human being, and he’s probably traumatized. 

    Do you mind explaining?

    He was hospitalized and almost died; I think that messed with him. He’s been up and about since then, and I cannot be chasing after an adult. I’m sure he’s fine wherever he is.

    Have you tried reaching out?

    I’ve reached out to him. We even agreed to meet up for dinner but this man stood me up. Since then, I’ve allowed him to do whatever he wants. It’s not his first time leaving anyway—I didn’t know he was until I was 10, then he came back and left again for years,  came back again with tears, talking about how he wanted to know his daughter because he was getting old. I didn’t trust him anyway.

    When I came here, I thought everything would be chill, but he wanted to be forming big man, which made no sense because I didn’t ask him to bring me here. We clashed regularly because of it. I wouldn’t sit down and let him talk to me anyhow. That’s one of the reasons why I moved out; I needed that space. The distance is good for us because we can’t live under the same roof. It just won’t work.

    I’m sorry to hear that. Is your mom still in Nigeria? 

    Yes. My relocation was a bit hard for her to process. She’s very introverted, so I was her go-to person—when I got here, she used to call me too often. We ended up fighting about it, but things are better now. I’ve been trying to explore options to help her move here. It might not happen anytime soon, though, but she’s looking forward to it.

    I hope it works out. What are some culture shocks you’ve experienced in Australia?

    Kids talk back at their parents here. The way people dress is also shocking; I am all about body positivity, but there’s a need to dress appropriately when you’re going out.

    Another culture shock would be the fact that children date here. For example, 14-year-old kids who don’t know what life is yet are allowed to date. 

    You mentioned that your friends are not Nigerians; how do these friendships work?

    I have to code-switch now and then. If I’m talking to my Australian friends, I talk a certain way. If I’m talking to my Indian friends, I can speak casually. My best friend is Australian, and she’s a charming person.

    Do you have any plans to move back to Nigeria in the future?

    I don’t want to move back, but I want to visit. I’m very hungry for Nigerian food; I’m tired of eating bland white people’s food. If I had the money, I would come back home just for the food, even if it’s just for one day.

    On a scale of one to 10, how happy would you say you are in Australia?

    9.5. I’m happy to be here.  I don’t have to stress about somebody kidnapping me when I’m going to another state. It’s a chill place.

    Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me here. For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT). 

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  • You can choose to do life alone if you want, but friendships are the seasoning that brings untold flavour into your life. One thing Nollywood never fails to deliver is interesting and inspiring relationships that’ll have you screaming “God, when?”.

    In case you’re out there hunting for a new bestie who’ll make your friendship the envy of town, draw inspiration from these fictional characters. 

    Kambili and Amaka from Purple Hibiscus: 

    Despite their initial tension, Kambili and Amaka bonded deeply over their shared experiences of family trauma, growing to understand and support each other. Kambili taught her cousin, Amaka, the virtue of patience while Amaka helped Kambili come into her own and become more confident. Your friends should improve your character just like that.

    Aki and Pawpaw from Aki Na Ukwa: 

    Aki and Pawpaw are inseparable, always backing each other up—  whether they’re causing mischief, dealing with challenges or getting out of the trouble their mischief has caused. Loyalty like theirs is what true friendship is all about.

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    Ifemelu and Ranyinudo from Americanah: 

    Ranyinudo was Ifemelu’s lifeline and connection when she returned to Nigeria after years abroad. She helped her reconnect with her roots and navigate the uncertainties of coming home. Sometimes, friends can be the light that brings clarity to your path.

    Kainene and Olanna from Half of a Yellow Sun: 

    Sisterhood may not always translate into a close friendship, but the bond between Olanna and Kainene only grew stronger with adversity. Until her disappearance, no matter the fight, Kainene always showed up for Olanna. Do you show up for your people even when it’s inconvenient?

    Isoken and Agnes from Isoken: 

    Agnes stood by Isoken during her struggle with societal and family pressure to marry. Her humour, honesty and unshaken support during Isoken’s personal crisis cemented their friendship as one for the books.

    Sunmi and Todowede from Breaded Life: 

    Your friends see you when no one else can recognise you. Todowede was the only one who recognised Sunmi and helped him when he was at ground zero. If your friends don’t back you up like that, is it even real?

  • Money can be a sensitive topic in relationships, and Hannah* understands that now. She talks about how being the rich friend has affected her long-term friendship group and why she wishes she had kept her salary a secret.  

    As told to Boluwatife

    The friendship I share with my two best friends has been the single most consistent thing in my life for the past 12 years. Now, it looks like money is changing that, and I don’t know how to feel.

    I met my friends Christie* and Mary* in 2012. We’d all just resumed SS 1 and found each other in the same class. I knew Mary from a distance because she lived on my street, but we had always attended different schools. So, I was glad to see a familiar face, and we soon started hanging out during break time. Christie was my seat partner, so she also tagged along. Before the end of the first term, we were a trio. 

    We became something like the “Queen Bees” of our school. Christie was the finest girl in our set, which did wonders for our popularity. The boys were always inviting us to hang out after school, and we, too, became experts in giving our mothers different excuses and lying that we were in each other’s houses so we could go out and do dumb teenager things. 

    One time, Christie’s mum caught us lying when she came to my house and found out that Christie wasn’t there like she’d claimed. I had to lie that she was in Mary’s house instead and literally ran all the way to Christie’s boyfriend’s house to get her since I didn’t have a phone. That was how far we went for each other.

    Our friendship grew stronger as the years passed, even though university admission came and sent us all to different schools. Our families still lived in the same area, so we always saw each other during the holidays. We also kept in touch with social media.

    We weathered everything together and told each other everything — whether it was boyfriend wahala or stupid crushes. We even talked about our money struggles and helped each other out when anyone was broke. I always imagined us growing to become the old mummies who wore matching outfits at owambes and followed each other everywhere. 

    But adulting came and changed things.

    I was the first to get a job after NYSC in 2022. The insurance firm I served at retained me and placed me on a ₦200k salary. I told my friends, and they were happy for me. Mary and Christie were still rounding up NYSC, and since neither had any income apart from the ₦33k NYSC stipend, I automatically became the person who paid for things when we went out. 

    I didn’t mind it. In fact, I started giving my friends money. I still lived with my parents and had no major responsibilities, so adopting gift-giving as a love language was easy. 

    My friends only had to complain about the slightest inconvenience, and I was throwing money at them. They often asked to borrow money, which I gave and never disturbed for repayment. Sometimes, they paid back. Other times, they didn’t.

    The loan requests reduced after Mary and Christie both got jobs in 2023, but I was still the higher earner, and it became an unwritten rule for me to always pay more whenever we had joint projects like surprise gifts and birthday celebrations for one of us. 

    Mary and Christie also rented an apartment together that same year. So, while I noticed I always paid more, I didn’t complain. They obviously had more responsibilities than me.

    I changed jobs early this year, and my salary has increased to ₦450k. My salary isn’t that much higher than my friends, who earn between ₦200k – ₦250k, but they treat me like I’m one rich woman.

    Whenever I complain about the rising cost of cabs and food, they laugh and say, “Rich woman like you?” Since my salary increase, I’ve tried to be more financially responsible by saving half of my salary and making better financial decisions, but my friends don’t understand.

    For instance, my friends and I have this weekly tradition of going out to a restaurant every Saturday to eat brunch. We’re supposed to rotate the bill payment, but I usually end up paying three out of four times. That usually gulps between ₦30k – ₦50k weekly.

    Some months ago, I suggested reducing the brunch dates to once monthly because of the financial implications, but Christie made it seem like I didn’t see our friendship as a priority. She was like, if I was trying to find a way to save money, why didn’t I consider cutting my cab costs and dry cleaning budget — They know I send my clothes to the dry cleaners every week. 

    But it’s not even the same. Laundry and transportation are necessities that make my life easier and more productive. We can survive without eating out every Saturday. 

    Mary recently asked for a ₦100k loan, but I told her I could only afford to lend her ₦50k. She asked me why, and I told her my money was tied up in savings. I think she got angry because she asked me not to worry about the loan again.

    To be honest, I don’t think I should’ve had to explain why I couldn’t loan a certain amount. It wouldn’t have cost anything to lend her the full amount, but I know I most likely won’t get the money back, and I can’t build a reasonable financial future by continuing that way.

    It’s not like I’m hiding my new intentionality with money from my friends. I told them I wanted to reduce my spending, and they said it was a good idea. But I think they assume it shouldn’t extend to them. They can question me about buying ice cream or spending on cabs, but they turn around and still expect me to fund our outings.

    I actually regret telling them how much I earn. Maybe they’d have been more understanding if they didn’t know my income. Or maybe I introduced them to a lifestyle I couldn’t maintain by throwing money at them in the first place. 

    Now, I feel like we aren’t as close as before. It doesn’t help that Mary and Christie live together, so I feel like the odd one out. They now have inside jokes, and I have this weird feeling that they talk about me behind my back.

    I’ve talked to them a few times about how I feel like they treat me differently, and each time, they promise it’s not like that. But I still sense a divide. I can only hope that we don’t grow further apart.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ:  I Catfished My Dad and Made Him Send Me Money for Weeks

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  • Janet* (28) first met her long-term best friend, Jesse*, when she was 13. She talks about their 15-year friendship, people mistaking their closeness for romance and why she doesn’t want to date Jesse.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Freepik AI

    My best friend, Jesse*, has been the one constant in my life for the past 15 years. It’s funny how I initially hated him.

    We met in 2009 when we were in JSS 3 at the same secondary school. Jesse joined my class in the middle of the second term as a transfer student, and I remember thinking, “Who joins a new class halfway through the school year?”

    We got talking when Jesse inevitably fell behind on most of the subjects. He had weeks and weeks of notes to write, so he came to my seat to ask me for my English notes. Apparently, other students had told him I kept the most detailed notes, so I was the obvious choice.

    I lent him the note, but Jesse lost it after two days. To make matters worse, he didn’t tell me because he was scared of how I’d react. He came up with excuses whenever I asked for the note and only came clean when it was three weeks to exams. 

    Of course, I was angry. I reported Jesse to a teacher who punished and directed him to rewrite my note from scratch. He wrote the note and even stuck an apology card inside. I was still angry with him, so I tore the card into pieces and dropped it on his desk.

    But Jesse didn’t mind my reaction. It was as if my anger only made him more determined to make me smile. Every day, he’d stop by my desk to tell me a joke or present me with snacks. On my part, I thought he was an unserious fellow who joked too much, and I’m not sure why, but I just hated his guts.

    He started to wear me down towards the end of third term, and I began to look forward to his “disturbance”. Then, when we resumed SS 1, we found each other in the same science class and immediately became fast friends. 

    Ironically, Jesse’s parents moved to a new house in my neighbourhood that same year, which made Jesse and me even closer. 

    Every morning, Jesse would walk down to my house to wait for me to get ready, so we’d walk to school together. The distance from my house to our school was about 30 minutes on foot, but rather than take a bus, Jesse and I chose to walk and gist all the way.

    When we got to school, we used our transport money to buy Ghana buns to share over lunch break. After school, we’d buy yoghurts and drink them while we walked home.

    We quickly became inseparable. Our classmates used to call us “husband and wife” teasingly, but we just really enjoyed each other’s company. Our friendship did not have a romantic undertone. 

    In fact, Jesse had a crush on another classmate when we got to SS 3 and begged me for weeks to talk to his crush on his behalf. They eventually got dating, but the girl dumped him by second term because he spent all his time with me. I did try to include her in all the discussions and walks that Jesse and I usually did together. But she wanted Jesse to stop talking to me to focus on her instead, and he just couldn’t do it.

    Leaving secondary school in 2012 was extra emotional because we knew we couldn’t attend the same university. Jesse’s parents had always said he’d attend their church’s private university, and I knew there was no way my parents could afford that.

    But somehow, even when we attended university in different states, we kept our friendship intact. We met up during school holidays, but whenever we were in school, we kept in touch through FaceBook, 2go, Blackberry Messenger, and phone calls. Omo, we made so many phone calls, especially at midnight, because it was cheaper.

    We also tried to create memories together by watching movies and TV series at the same time so we could talk about it.

    We’d just finished watching an episode of “Friends” when we decided to start telling each other, “I love you,” as an inside joke. We thought, well, people don’t understand how two people of the opposite sex can be platonic friends but still genuinely love each other, so let’s throw them off even more.

    Since then, we’ve ended every conversation with “I love you.” It’s still difficult to explain to others, but it was worse when we first started saying it. 

    Jesse had a girlfriend then, and while she was cordial with me, she always complained to him that she didn’t like our declarations of love. So, he toned it down whenever he was around her. It wasn’t much of a problem for me because I dated a lot of fuckboys in uni, and most of them didn’t care.

    Jesse thinks I expect too little in romantic relationships, so I typically go for guys who break my heart. I’m still not sure whether to accept that analysis, but knowing I have a best friend who loves me unconditionally and without expectations somehow reduces the hurt from my almost non-existent love life. 

    Jesse and I have lived in the same city since 2019, and while we don’t see each other as often because of adulting struggles and work, our friendship has remained as steady as a rock. We talk on the phone daily, send each other little gifts and are even part of each other’s families. I think of Jesse as my soulmate; he just gets me.

    He’s currently in a long-distance relationship with the girl he’s been dating since 2021 — she relocated last year — and I’m still as single as ever. This dynamic often makes mutual friends joke that we’ll hook up one day or suddenly realise we want to be together romantically, especially because we go on friendship dates at least once a month. 

    Some friends have even whispered to his girlfriend not to trust him fully since she’s far away in a whole other country while Jesse and I are so close in the same city.

    It gets tiring having to constantly explain that I don’t want to date my best friend. Is it really that difficult to imagine people can love each other and not want to have sex? 

    I’m very sure that attempting to make our relationship romantic will ruin our friendship. We’ve never talked about becoming more than friends, and I don’t want it either. Jesse is the one good thing in my life. I’m shit at romantic relationships. 

    What if we start dating, and I mess it up? I wouldn’t just be losing a boyfriend; I’d be losing my best friend and literal soulmate. That’s too big a risk to take just because of sex. At least, as friends, I know he’ll be part of my life forever, and I’m okay with that.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ: My Best Friend and I Plan to Marry Each Other if We’re Still Single at 30

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  • I was looking to speak with people who transitioned from the bestie to lover tag when I found Segun*.

    He talks about dating his childhood friend and how his insecurities around success sabotaged the relationship.

    Image by freepik

    As Told To Adeyinka

    I was in primary 6 the first time I realised my feelings for my friend Shade weren’t just platonic.

    We were 8 years old and lived on the same estate. After school, we’d join other kids to play until our parents returned from work. We acted out a drama during one of these playdates. I can’t recall the details, but I remember we planned a pretend wedding party. Shade and I were cast as the groom and bride, and I was excited as the other kids cheered us on.

    Shade wore my white jalabiya as we couldn’t find a real wedding gown, and I wore a black shirt and trousers. Her hair was adorned with yellow and red flowers we plucked from a tree, and we used the same flowers for her bouquet.

    As we walked around the estate holding hands, the other kids sang “Here comes the bride.” It felt like a scene straight out of a movie.

    Although the older folks in the estate laughed it off as childish play, it felt real to me. Later that night, as I prayed, I asked God to make the wedding a reality in the future.

    When I was 11 years old, Shade’s family moved from the estate to their house in Ikorodu. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say goodbye.  I was on holiday at my cousin’s when they moved. When my mum shared the news, I sulked the entire day. She comforted me, assuring me that we would visit them soon, but I didn’t believe her. Weeks turned into months, and months into years, and soon, I forgot all about Shade.

    Fast forward to 2009, social media had become a thing. While filling out my JAMB registration form one day, I logged into my Facebook account and found a friend request from Shade. Although I didn’t recognise the profile picture, the lady looked pretty, so I accepted the request. Almost immediately, she flooded my inbox with messages, and the memories of our childhood rushed back. It was my Shade.

    She texted me as though we’d seen each other just days ago, and it was hard to keep up because I couldn’t remember some of the things she referenced. But Shade was back in my life.

    Shade had a small phone, but I didn’t, so Facebook was our only means of communication. I’d save up my pocket money to buy hours at the cybercafe, and we’d end our chat by scheduling our next online meeting. We lived in different areas— Surulere and Ikorodu—so we couldn’t plan a physical meetup due to the distance.

    As time went on, I learned that she was also trying for uni. Her parents wanted her to stay in Lagos, so it was UNILAG for her. Meanwhile, I was headed to UNILORIN. In all of these, we didn’t discuss relationships much. We’d make random comments about boys and girls, but that was it. We were just really good friends.

    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.

    Our other mutual friends also knew because we were constantly tagging each other on our Facebook walls. I’m not sure if “bestie” was a slang back then, but I guess you could say we were best friends.

    A year after our reunion, she gained admission into UNILAG and I didn’t, which was tough for me. I’d heard stories about how wild UNILAG was and how it changed people. Suddenly, I feared I might lose her, and I didn’t want that to happen. So, I started telling her more about the fake wedding we had as kids and how I prayed about it, hinting that we should be partners. She’d laugh it off, saying she didn’t want to be distracted by a relationship until she was done with uni.

    My fear of losing her to UNILAG didn’t let me back down, though. I was on her case, trying to make her see reason with me. I told her I could wait until we were married if it was about sex, and I assured her there wouldn’t be any distractions since we barely saw each other. Deep down, I just wanted the friend tag to change to boyfriend. I thought it gave a sense of permanency and commitment. Slowly but reluctantly, she agreed.

    It was both of our first relationships, so things went smoothly in the first few months. The boyfriend and girlfriend tag gave me assurance that I wasn’t losing her to UNILAG. Yes, she made new friends, but I was the one receiving “I love you” messages, listening to her rants, and being her confidant.

    Our bond grew stronger, and it felt like the childhood wedding might actually happen. Since UNILAG was closer to me than Ikorodu, I visited her at least twice a month.

    I also managed to convince my parents to let me choose UNILAG for my next JAMB attempt. It wasn’t easy, but they agreed. Shade and I were thrilled about the prospect of studying in the same school, graduating almost at the same time, and potentially serving in the same state for NYSC.

    Out of the blue, things took a sour turn. It started when I didn’t get admission into UNILAG. My dad didn’t take it well because he wasn’t on board with the UNILAG plan, and my mum was disappointed because it meant another year of explaining to friends, relatives, and neighbours why I wasn’t in uni yet. Shade, on the other hand, was full of enthusiasm and shared stories of people who tried for up to three years before they got into the school. If her words and care were meant to comfort me, they didn’t. I wanted to know why I didn’t have her luck, why I had to try more than once, and why things weren’t working out for me.

    Soon, I stopped visiting her in school. It was embarrassing to constantly tell her friends that I was still seeking admission or hanging around when she was having classes. Our communication also lost the spark that had carried us through the years. I wasn’t as excited to text back when I got her messages, and when we spoke on the phone, I gave tepid, one-word responses. I was angry at her, but I couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. If she sensed a change in me, she didn’t act on it. She’d still send “I love you” messages, ask me to come visit, and send random pictures of herself in school.

    One day, I logged into Facebook and saw a photo of her with another guy inside a car. He had the trending “Ama Kip Kip” shirt on, and I could tell he was from a wealthy family. I was livid and left a long and nasty comment on the picture, unfriended her, blocked her number. 

    In my head, that was the end of the relationship. I didn’t bother to reach out for the next few weeks. I ignored messages she sent from different numbers as I fell into a depressive state. Everything happening all at once: no admission, my dad nagging about choosing UNILAG, endless errands for my mum, my friends from secondary school sharing pictures from their respective universities, and my girlfriend leaving me for a richer UNILAG dude.

    On one of the days I felt alive, I called Shade, but she didn’t pick up. For some reason, the anger erupted in me again. When she called and texted back, I ignored her, and I didn’t reach out to her for months. I knew the relationship was over. In my head, she had better options in UNILAG.

    In 2013, I finally got into a university in Osun state. It still ranks as one of the happiest moments in my life. I was over the moon and shared the news with everyone. But even then, it felt like my joy was incomplete because I hadn’t told the one person I really wanted to share the news with. I sent a request on Facebook, sent text messages, and tried to reach her through some of our mutual friends, but it all proved abortive.

    A few weeks after I started my degree programme, I got the rudest shock of my life: Shade had dropped out of UNILAG and relocated abroad. It was the first time I truly felt heartbroken. Again, I tried to connect with her, but it seemed like she had vanished from the internet. There was no trace of her anywhere. And just like that, we lost contact.

    I still randomly search for her name on social media, but I’ve not gotten any real leads. Once, a private Instagram account popped up during a search, but the user didn’t accept my request.

    I’ve heard so many stories of people who got into romantic relationships with their friends, and it worked out. Some even got married. I think I could have been one of those if I hadn’t let a low moment in life steal my joy.

    Looking to attend an event where you’ll meet your potential 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.

    READ NEXT: 9 Reasons Why Every Nigerian Woman Must Have A Male Bestie