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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.

Yemi*(27) and Chika*(26) met online and quickly became close friends. Despite not having met in person, they shared a deep bond.

In this Sunken Ships, Yemi shares how their friendship of over two years fell apart due to sudden distrust, disrespect and a final lie on her birthday that made her realise their friendship was never as mutual as she thought.

What was the moment that made you realise this friendship was sinking?

She lied to me about sending over a birthday gift to impress a guy she was seeing. When I didn’t hear from her after that, I knew our friendship was done.

Tell me how you guys met.

We became close on social media. She followed me on Instagram in 2023, and she would respond to my story posts, message me about personal stuff she was going through, and I’d do the same. I was always there for her when she needed me because I saw her as a true friend.

Did you guys ever meet up to hang out?

Not in the beginning. We lived in different cities. I’m based in Lagos, while she lived in Rivers State with her family. When she told me she was considering moving to Lagos for her service year in 2025, I was delighted. I wanted more friends who lived close by because several of my friendships are long-distance. But our first fight before we met dampened my excitement for her to move to my city.

What was that fight about?

It was money-related. I lent her some money, and she ghosted me even though she knew I was unemployed at the time. That was around the time she disrespected my mum as well.

Whoa. That’s a lot, tell me what happened?

In March 2025, she asked to borrow some money. I didn’t have much to spare because I had just quit a stressful job and I wasn’t making an income anymore, but I felt obligated to help her because she was my friend and I’d do anything to help the people I care about. When she initially borrowed the money, she swore that she would pay me the next day. But the next day turned into a week, then a month. Two months passed, and I didn’t see my money.

Ah. Was that the first time she burrowed money from you?

No, for the duration of our friendship, I’d help her out with some money if she were ever in a bind and tell her to pay me back when she could. I had done that a few times, so I didn’t have any issues helping her out with a loan every now and then.

Ah. Did you ask when she’d be able to pay you back?

Yes, I did. After the second month had passed, I called her and asked about when she would be able to pay back, but her response was cold and vague.

How did that make you feel?

I thought I had just caught her at a bad time and decided I’d reach out again later.

Okay, when was the next time you reached out?

About two weeks later, I had run out of money because I hadn’t found another job quickly enough. I had a small business on the side, but that wasn’t going well either, and I was desperate for some income. I sent Chika a message, begging her to repay the money, as it would have helped resolve several issues I was facing at the time.

What was her response?

She was just as cold as before, making me feel guilty for asking for my money because she was going through a hard time as well, prepping for the three-week NYSC orientation camp. It was around this time that she stopped taking my calls completely.

Did this make you scared that she would never pay you back?

No, I knew she wasn’t going to run away with my money, but the delay was frustrating. In June, I needed to contribute some money to help with a household repair. I remembered Chika and gave her a call to remind her about the money. I was in my mum’s room with my sister and took the call on speaker. She was very flippant about it and ended the call quickly without stating when I should expect the money. I was cool about it as usual, but her attitude annoyed my mum and my sister.

Did they directly get involved?

Yes, they did, even though I expressly asked them not to.

Why didn’t you want them to interfere?

I thought that it made me look a bit childish that my mum would have to get involved in a disagreement I was having with a friend, so I told them to let it go and that I had it under control.

So how did they get involved?

Well, first my mum got curious about my friendship with Chika and started asking questions about where we met, how long we had been friends and if I had gotten my money back. This scrutiny made me call Chika again a few days later, but she didn’t pick up.

How did this make you feel?

I was beyond frustrated. I sent her a long message about her holding on to the money she loaned was upsetting me because she knew I was having a difficult time after quitting my old job. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have the money because I saw her posting things she bought in camp on her Instagram stories, she just didn’t want to pay me back. I told her I was going to ask again and deleted her number.

What happened after that?

My mum asked if I had gotten my money back, and I told her to forget about it and that I would get the money from another source. My mum and sister didn’t want to let it go, though, so my sister went into my phone behind my back and took Chika’s number.

I see, what did they do with it?

My mum sent her some voice messages introducing herself and spoke to Chika as if she were a daughter. She told her how I was struggling and how it was unfair that she stopped taking my calls just because of a loan between friends. She urged her to reach out to me, and that was that.

Did she call you like your mum suggested?

Yes, but it only escalated our issues.

How do you mean?

She called me and angrily accused me of reporting her to my mum. It was the first time I had heard of the voice messages, so I was confused. She said that if it were the mother of a random goat that sent her those messages, she would have blocked the person, but because of our history, she only deleted my mother’s messages without listening to them. She warned me not to do it again.

How did that make you feel?

I was initially embarrassed because I had warned my mum and sister not to get involved. But the way Chika spoke about my mum and the fact that she didn’t even honour her with a response made me see red. She didn’t even apologise or take accountability; she was just yelling on the phone.

So what did you do?

I told her off sternly and asked her to pay me back my money and never to disrespect my mum or my family ever again.

What did she do?

She sent me back my money the next day and stopped responding to me everywhere.

Wow, that’s cold. Did you reach out to her again?

Yes, I did. I felt bad that we had such a nasty argument and wanted to see if we could reconcile. I gave her a call a few weeks later and asked if she had sorted her posting and accommodation in Lagos. Her reaction irritated me even more.

What did she do?

She didn’t respond to my message and instead put a screenshot of it on her WhatsApp status with the caption, “This one doesn’t know the kind of friend she has. Does she think I’ll come down from my high horse to apologise?”

Omo! Did you respond to that?

Yes, o. I immediately messaged her and scolded her for it. I thought it was wild that she would set me up for her friends to insult me without putting up the backstory of what led to our disagreement in the first place.

How did she respond?

She sent me a long message on Instagram apologising and asking for us to be friends again. I decided to give her one more chance, and we reconciled. Our friendship wasn’t as close as before because I found it hard to trust her, but I was willing to try again.

Did you wax stronger after that?

No, actually, several more small incidents increased the distance between us, but the last straw for me came on my birthday.

What happened?

She called me while she was visiting a guy she was seeing. She wished me a happy birthday and asked me to send her my address so she could send a gift over. I thought that was a pleasant surprise and shared my details.

It turned out that there was never any gift. She never followed up or shared the rider’s details. I figured out that, given her history, it was most likely that she only mentioned the gift to impress the guy she was with.

What did you do when you came to that conclusion?

I decided to let the friendship go. I soft-blocked her on all our social media and deleted her number. She’s toxic and an insincere person, and I can’t deal with that right now.

Do you think you’d consider reconciling with Chika if she were to reach out?

No, my peace of mind is very important to me, and I can’t do the mental gymnastics of constantly second-guessing if my friend is being honest with me or not.

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Every year, tens of thousands of young Nigerians move to the UK in search of a better life. Edidiong* (25) came for a master’s degree after his family scraped together every naira they could find. A year after graduation, he’s still hustling for a job that will sponsor his work Visa. The pressure is real, and failure could mean losing everything.

As told to Aisha Bello

I arrived in the UK in August 2023 with a suitcase full of big dreams and a heart full of hope. I was ready to take on the world, or at least, that was the plan.

My family and our extended network back home had scraped together every naira they could spare to send me here for a master’s degree in International Business Management and Entrepreneurship. Everyone believed in me and expected me to succeed. I believed it, too.

My first year in the new country passed in a blur of routine and cautious optimism. I worked as a healthcare support worker, assisting patients with their social and physical needs and providing hands-on support in hospitals and clinics. It paid roughly £700 a week, enough to cover rent, bills, groceries, and a small amount of pocket money.

I was surviving and also learning the rhythms of the UK: how to get around, how to live, and how to stretch every pound, while quietly imagining the future I hoped to build.

By September 2024, I had finished my master’s. With my degree in hand, I applied for the graduate visa, which would give me two years to work without restriction. It cost around £3,000 — money I had painstakingly saved over the year. I remember the day the confirmation came through. I felt a small tinge of hope. Finally, I thought, a bridge to the life I had been chasing.

Then the job hunt began.

I thought naively that an MSc would swing open doors on its own. A polished CV and a degree would carry the weight of my ambition. I pictured employers lining up, eager to hire me.

I was wrong.

The reality hit harder than I expected. To remain legally in the UK after my visa expired, I needed to find a job that would sponsor a Skilled Worker visa, which felt impossible.

I sent my CV everywhere: Indeed, LinkedIn, and company websites. I applied to any role that seemed doable, including customer service, marketing, sales, business operations, and retail. I prepared four different CVs, each tailored to a different type of role.

By the time I stopped counting, I had sent out almost a thousand applications, each one carrying the hope that this time, something would finally stick. Responses were so rare, reminding me how distant I was from finding a job.

Related: I Quit My Job a Year Ago. 500 Applications Later, I’m Still Jobless

And the few that did respond evaporated when they learned I needed sponsorship. Suddenly, I wasn’t a promising candidate.

I could sense the unspoken calculations in their heads: the cost, the paperwork, the uncertainty. I couldn’t blame them. I wasn’t a prodigy. I didn’t have years of experience back home; just a couple of internships, and a freshly minted master’s degree, and apparently, that wasn’t enough.

I hadn’t considered this before moving. I hadn’t thought about sponsorship costs, the competitive job market, or my lack of UK experience. International students face a brutal landscape. Millions of graduates from different racial backgrounds compete for every available position, so a master’s degree, along with a few internship experiences, barely counts.

Over a year has passed. Still nothing. I’ve had to double down on the healthcare job just to survive. It pays the bills, but it doesn’t pay off expectations, ambition, or the sense that I’ve truly “made it.”

Every day, the calendar mocks me. Another year. Another 365 days of existing, surviving but not thriving. The pressure from home hangs over me heavily. They must think I’m doing better. I should be. I should have a proper 9-to-5 job, a clear trajectory, and a semblance of security. Instead, I’m navigating a rollercoaster of hope and rejection.

I’m at a crossroads. My graduate visa gives me another year. The pressure is crushing. I’ve started to consider every possible way to stay in the UK, even options I never imagined before.

Could I arrange a marriage to secure residency? Could I study the immigration laws closely enough to find a loophole? Could I somehow fund another degree, perhaps even a tuition-free PhD in another European country, to buy more time?

The truth is, I have no desire to start from zero again in another country. I’ve poured too much time, energy, hope, and money into grounding my feet in the UK.

Frustration, worry, and anger have become my daily companions. Every rejection, every cold automated “We regret to inform you” email chips away at my soul. Each morning, anxiety gnaws in my stomach as I question my choices, my abilities, and whether any of this was worth it.

Hindsight is ruthless. At night, I lie awake, running scenarios over in my head. Perhaps I should have gained more experience in Nigeria, networked harder while studying, or chosen a master’s degree that offered a clearer path to employment.

I’ve learned a hard truth: as an international student, you start at a disadvantage. The visa clock ticks relentlessly. Every day without a proper job edges me closer to a deadline I cannot ignore. I have to face it: If sponsorship doesn’t work, what do I do?

So here I am, working my healthcare job, and sending out yet another hundred CVs, caught between desperation and determination. I don’t know what the future holds. However, I do know this: I refuse to give up, and I refuse to return home to Nigeria as someone who failed.

This is Deji’s Dilemma, As Told To Boluwatife

The past three years have been the most peaceful and happy I’ve been in my life. But I may have just done something to change that.

I met Teni* at a friend’s wedding in 2022, an event I almost didn’t attend. I’d debated sleeping away my exhaustion from work over spending my precious weekend at yet another social gathering. I’m glad I eventually decided to attend.

Teni and I shared a table at the wedding. I remember stealing glances at the beautiful lady beside me, wondering how to start up a conversation with her. My opportunity came when the ushers served food, and we both reached for the only plate of amala on the tray.

I gestured for her to take the food, and when she did, I joked that she’d have to repay me with pounded yam. She laughed — this soft, musical sound — and that was it. I was gone.

We talked the entire afternoon, and I asked for her number. By the time we went on our first date a week later, it felt like we had known each other for years.

Everything with her was easy. Natural. Teni challenged me, supported me, and filled my life with a kind of peace I didn’t even know I needed. Early this year, I proposed at the same restaurant where we had our first date. It was perfect.

Even before our engagement, we’ve been preparing for the life we want to build together. We always knew that we’d most likely get married in 2026. Since December 2023, we’ve been saving jointly for the wedding and our future home — both of us contributing at least 30% of our monthly income.

We didn’t have a savings goal; the plan was to set aside some money so we wouldn’t have to raise money again when the time came.

Teni is a freelancer and experiences periods of high income flow, so she sometimes contributed more than 30%. For me, I already had plenty of living expenses and family responsibilities on my ₦650k salary, so I maintained my 30%.

We had a system that worked: I already had a mutual fund account, so we directed our savings there due to the high returns (between 18% and 20% per annum). We’d started active wedding planning right after I proposed, so we finally drew up a budget of ₦10m. We already had close to ₦5m saved, so it was a matter of raising the rest.

Teni handled the organisation, tracking how much we had and what we still needed, while I managed the vendors and coordinated plans. We made a great team.

Everything changed two months ago.

A friend told me about an importation business opportunity. The idea was to pool money to import gadgets, household decor, and fashion accessories from countries like China and sell them to wholesalers for a profit in Nigeria.

He swore it was legit. He told me he’d personally invested in it and showed me testimonials. I didn’t have to do the actual groundwork. I just needed to provide the capital, and I would practically make almost double my investment in a few months. It seemed like a genuine opportunity.

I kept thinking about how much it would help with the wedding, how proud Teni would be if I suddenly eased our financial burden and had more than enough left to start our family together. It felt like a chance to be a hero.

So, without telling her, I took out ₦3m from our joint savings and put it into it.

The plan was to surprise her when the returns came in. I imagined telling her how I’d proactively invested our money and made double back. It was supposed to be a good thing.

But the whole thing collapsed.

My “friend” disappeared. When I traced him down to his family’s house, I learnt he did the same thing to a few other people to raise money to relocate out of the country. The business itself was real; he just used it as an opportunity to steal.

Telling Teni was the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. She thought I was joking at first. She was furious when she eventually realised I was serious, accusing me of “gambling with our future behind my back.”

I tried to explain. I told her it was meant to be a surprise, that I was thinking of us. I even swore to raise the ₦3m back somehow and pay back every kobo. I honestly didn’t think it was a big deal.

Granted, my friend had scammed me, but it wasn’t because I misjudged a business opportunity. It was the person involved who turned out to be a snake. If all had gone well, she’d most likely be happy I took the initiative.

Besides, the wedding was still months away, and I could recover the money before then, even if it meant saving every naira of my salary.

But Teni said it wasn’t about the money. It was about trust.

For weeks now, she’s been cold and distant. She says she’s wondering if this should be a deal breaker; whether she can marry someone who would make a major decision about their shared life without even talking to her.

I keep telling her she’s overreacting. I didn’t cheat or lie for selfish reasons, and I didn’t do anything to hurt her on purpose. But every time I say that, she just sighs like she’s tired of explaining something I refuse to understand.

And maybe I truly don’t understand. To me, it still feels like a mistake I can fix if she’ll just give me a chance. But to her, it feels like a betrayal.

She hardly calls me these days, and I feel stuck in a loop. I’ve sent apologies after apologies, but a part of me feels she’s dragging this too much. Still, another part of me worries that she may have already made up her mind, and I might lose her. I’m not sure what I can do at this point.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Went From Broke to a Net Worth of Over ₦30m in 5 Years. Here’s How I Did It

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When Rasheedat* (51) imagined marriage, she pictured a quiet life with one man; the kind of companionship she watched her parents enjoy for decades. She never thought she’d find herself in a polygamous home, much less as the younger wife navigating rivalry, heartbreak, and a marriage she didn’t plan for.

In this week’s Marriage Diaries, she talks about entering polygamy against her better judgment, learning to survive a senior wife determined to frustrate her, and why love has never been enough to keep her going.

This is a look into her marriage diary.

Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

I used to imagine marriage as just me, my husband and our children

Growing up, I used to think that marriage would simply be my husband and me enjoying life together. That was the kind of marriage my parents had — peaceful, united and focused on their children. For the longest time, I assumed mine would be the same.

But after secondary school, life humbled me. I had my own share of heartbreak. My first boyfriend left me for my friend. The next guy just wanted sex. Back then, I started realising that men aren’t like my father. Many of them can be dangerous. Many don’t know what they want.

Still, I kept imagining a future where I’d meet a man who’d be mine alone. Even when life kept showing me signs, I continued holding onto that picture. In my head, it was always “me and my husband”. But somewhere along the line, I also started preparing myself for disappointment.

I never expected to be a second wife, but pregnancy clouded my judgment

Polygamy was never in my plans. If someone had told me I’d become a second wife, I would’ve sworn it could never happen.

I met my husband at my boss’s shop. After struggling to find a good job after polytechnic, I decided to learn fashion design. Around that time, I already knew I wasn’t interested in men my age. They seemed confused about life. But I also didn’t want someone too old.

My boss introduced me to one of her customers, a calm man in his late 30s who didn’t even look his age. We got talking, and he didn’t tell me he was married. When I eventually found out, I was furious. I told him I didn’t want to be a second wife. He kept insisting that things were bad with the first wife and they’d soon separate.

Against my better judgment, I believed him.

By the time I got pregnant, everything changed. He wasn’t leaving his first wife like he promised. My parents were angry and begged me not to continue, but I didn’t want to abort. I didn’t want to be someone who had multiple kids with different fathers. So, I entered the marriage with my eyes half-open, half-closed. That’s how I found myself in a polygamous home I never wanted.

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The senior wife made the first years hell

Those early years were tough. My senior wife didn’t welcome me at all. She frustrated me spiritually, emotionally and physically. We even fought at a family event once because she said I didn’t show her enough respect. I remember wanting to leave so many times.

But I also didn’t want to hear “we told you so” from my parents.

My husband tried to be fair, but he wasn’t ready for polygamy either. Anytime things got too hot between us, he would run away under the guise of work. In fact, there was a time he relocated to another state and left both of us behind because he couldn’t handle the constant tension. We didn’t let him rest until he worked his transfer back to Lagos.

I had many moments where I questioned if I was strong enough for this life. But I didn’t tell anybody. I’d cry, wipe away my tears, and continue my day as if nothing had happened. That was how I survived.

Everything I know about surviving polygamy, I learnt the hard way

Nobody prepares you for the realities of polygamy. I didn’t know anything about splitting my husband’s time, navigating in-laws, managing insults or protecting myself spiritually. My mother had only experienced monogamy so she couldn’t advise me much. She helped me spiritually — giving me concoctions, prayers, and verses from the Quran — but the rest I had to learn on my own.

I had to learn how to handle the senior wife without ruining my sanity. How to protect my children from the tension in the house. How to hold my husband’s attention without fighting. How to survive jealousy without letting it destroy me.

One particular incident taught me a hard lesson. My husband annoyed me, so I decided to punish him by withdrawing from him. I didn’t cook, I turned him down in the bedroom, and I went completely cold. But that didn’t solve anything. He simply stopped coming home. For almost two months, he was staying at the senior wife’s house.

That was when I knew I was the one losing. I had to change my strategy. I had to learn that in polygamy, silent treatment and withholding affection only give room for another woman to take your place.

We’ve had too many arguments to count, sometimes about us, but many times about things the senior wife did. There were days I felt like he didn’t defend me enough or that he favoured her. Other days, I knew all of us were just being unreasonable.

Over the years, I’ve also learnt to pick my fights. For example, during Ramadan one year, we both insisted that he should eat sahoor in one house and iftar in the other. But it wasn’t fair. As much as we wanted to “share him equally,” he was still the one driving between both houses, working and trying to keep everyone happy.

In moments like that, I remind myself to be human first, wife second. It helps me stay grounded.

Polygamy made me tougher and more competitive than I ever imagined

Marriage has changed me in ways I never expected. I didn’t know I was this competitive. Perhaps I had noticed small traces before, but polygamy brought them out fully.

Living with a senior wife who wanted to push me out forced me to become vocal, tough and firm. People now call me “Alhaja no-nonsense” because I don’t let anybody walk over me. I speak up immediately. I stand my ground. I protect myself and my children.

Sometimes, I miss the younger version of myself who was calm, soft and easygoing. But this life is not for the weak. If you don’t build a tough exterior, people will tear you down, especially in a polygamous home. Still, all the struggle has shaped me. I’m proud of the woman I’ve become.

If there’s one thing I tell my daughters every day, it’s that polygamy is not for them. Even though it isn’t as common with their generation, I still warn them: don’t ever agree to it.

If I could go back in time, maybe I’d have aborted that pregnancy. Maybe I wouldn’t be here.

But life happened, and I’m grateful for my first child; he’s doing very well now. And even though my senior wife and I will never be best friends, things are much better. We’ve both mellowed with age. She enjoys her corner. I enjoy mine. Our husband tries his best.

Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

Love comes and goes, but patience is what has kept my marriage

If I’m being honest, love has never been enough for this marriage. Yes, I love my husband, but that love fluctuates depending on what is happening. Love doesn’t solve the battles, the jealousy, it doesn’t remove senior wife drama. Love doesn’t help you navigate spiritual attacks, family politics or shared attention.

If you ask me what has kept this marriage together, I’ll tell you that it’s patience and understanding, long before love. Love is something that comes and goes. But patience is the real backbone of marriage.

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

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The golden days of Nigerian TV was packed with reality shows that could easily rival anything Love Island has ever served. I miss eagerly waiting for the next episode of Gulder Ultimate Search and swooning over Chidi Mokeme or being stressed out when they randomly replaced him with Bob Manuel Udokwu.

From Maltina Dance All to MTN Project Fame, here are some Nigerian Reality TV shows the TV Gods should consider reviving.

1. Gulder Ultimate Search

Year it aired: 2004

When it ended: 2016 (original run), revival in 2021

Type: Survival reality show

This was one of the most anticipated shows on Nigerian TV. It followed a survival format where contestants faced tough physical and mental tasks while navigating harsh terrain in search of a hidden treasure. Its biggest draw was the genuine survival element that set it apart from other reality shows. It tried to make a comeback in 2021 but unfortunately flopped.

2. MTN Project Fame

Year it aired: 2008

When it ended: 2016

Type: Music reality show

MTN Project Fame was a music academy style music competition that focused on training young singers and showing their growth week after week through live performances. It stood out because viewers could actually watch contestants improve rather than just compete for votes. The show launched in 2008 and ran for several seasons before going off air.

3. Maltina Dance All

Year it aired: 2006

When it ended: 2016

Type: Dancing reality show

Nigeria’s first family dance show, Maltina Dance All, brought families together to learn and perform high-energy dance routines, from hip-hop to salsa to contemporary African dance, all while competing for judges’ scores and public votes. Many viewers connected with it because the family angle made the competition feel warmer and relatable.

4. Who wants to be a millionaire?

Year it aired: 2004

When it ended: 2017

Type: Game reality show

Who Wants to Be a Millionaire Nigeria had viewers on the edge of their seats as contestants answered increasingly tricky questions for huge cash prize. Elements like 50:50 and Phone a Friend, added even more thrill to the show. Hosted by Frank Edoho, it became an instant viewer favorite, turning ordinary Nigerians into millionaires and making quiz night a must-watch TV event.

ALSO READ: 5 Insane Reality Shows We Need Nigerian Versions Of

5. Ultimate Love

Year it aired: 2020

When it ended: 2020

Type: Dating reality show

This was Nigeria’s first attempt at an iteration of Love Island. The show had 16 singles live together in a “Love Pad” under 24-hour surveillance, pairing up and completing tasks to test their compatibility. They were guided by the resident counsellor “Aunty,” as they navigate challenges while viewers vote to keep their favorite couples in the game.

6. Knorr Taste Quest

Year it aired: 2013

When it ended: 2018

Type: Cooking reality show

Knorr Taste Quest was a Nigerian cooking‑reality show sponsored by Unilever (Knorr), which began in 2013. Contestants go through auditions, and the top ones (usually 12) compete in weekly culinary challenges judged by expert chefs.The tasks tested their creativity, cooking skill, and use of ingredients, including mandatory items in certain challenges.

7. Nigeria Got Talent

Year it aired: 2008

When it ended: 2016

Type: Music reality show

Nigeria’s Got Talent is the Nigerian version of the global “Got Talent” franchise, first airing in 2008. The show featured a wide range of performers — singers, dancers, magicians, comedians — with no age limit. Contestants audition across multiple cities, and their acts are judged by a panel of judges. Viewers vote to decide which talents move forward, and winners get significant cash prizes.

8. Amstel Malta Box Office

Year it aired: 2005

When it ended: 2009

Type: Acting reality show

Amstel Malta Box Office (AMBO) was a Nollywood‑focused reality show launched in 2005. The show brought together aspiring actors who went through training and acting challenges under real “studio‑house” conditions. Winners not only got cash and a car, but also a lead role in a Nollywood movie. For example, Ivie Okujaye won AMBO 5 and starred in the brand‑funded film Alero’s Symphony.

ALSO READ: We Ranked Popular Nigerian Reality TV Shows From Messy AF to Squeaky Clean

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Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.

Wahab* (34) and Derin* (31) met at a secondary school mate’s wedding in 2018. After years of long-distance friendship, they finally got together in 2021 and married in April 2022. Four weeks into their marriage, a gas explosion burned down their home and hospitalised them for months.

On this week’s Love Life, they talk about falling in love, building a life together, and how a tragedy that almost destroyed everything ultimately made their bond stronger.

If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Wahab: December 2018. I was in Nigeria for the first time since I left for the UK in 2009. My mum was turning 50 and my secondary school mate was getting married. I’d been away for almost a decade, so it felt like a proper homecoming.

At the wedding reception, I saw this really pretty lady I couldn’t take my eyes off across the room. I wasn’t even sure if she’d attended our school, but I knew I had to talk to her before I left. I asked two of my guys about her, and one of them hinted she was a set mate who left in junior secondary. I approached her later and that’s how we got talking.

Derin: The wedding was also my earliest memory of Wahab. I don’t think I really noticed him in school.

Anyway, I caught him staring. At first, I thought he was trying to figure out if he knew me. When he finally walked over, he introduced himself, and I was like, “Wait, Wahab? From our set?” We clicked immediately and talked for hours—about school, life, what we’d been up to. By the end of the night, we’d exchanged numbers.

Sweet. What happened next?

Derin: We stayed in touch after the wedding. He was still in Nigeria for a few more weeks, so we’d meet up for lunch or just hang out. It was nice catching up with someone from secondary school, you know? Someone who understood where you were coming from. We always had so many things to talk about.

Wahab: I enjoyed our time together, but I knew I had to return to the UK soon. Before I left, I told her I really liked her and wanted us to be in a relationship. But she said no.

Why, Derin?

Derin: Long distance? No, thank you. I’d seen too many people try it and fail. Plus, we’d literally just reconnected. I wasn’t about to commit to someone who lives in another country because we hung out for a few weeks.

Wahab: Yeah, that bit really made sense. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of asking someone out within weeks of knowing them, but I was really drawn to her. I was disappointed when she turned me down, but I didn’t want to force anything.

So we stayed friends for about three years. We’d check in on each other occasionally—birthdays, holidays, random funny messages. Nothing serious.

Derin: Honestly, I didn’t think much of it. He was just someone I knew from school who lived abroad. I had my own life here in Nigeria, and I tried to keep my options open. I entertained a few guys who were interested in me just for the sake of it. Even though I knew of Wahab’s intent, I couldn’t give much thought to it since he was away in another country. But I also didn’t want to commit to anyone fully. I honestly don’t know why.

Wahab: I didn’t really have eyes for anyone in the UK. I’d always known I wanted to marry someone from home, so my mind was set on Derin. I had this blind loyalty, even though we hadn’t committed to anything outside of friendship.

Fair enough. So when did things change?

Wahab: 2021. I moved back to Nigeria for a longer period. My dad had been asking me to help him run his company, and I also wanted to explore some business opportunities. When I got back, one of the first people I called was Derin. Most of my friends had relocated.

We’d go out for dinner, catch a movie, and spend time together. And I realised all those feelings I had three years ago were still there. Even stronger, actually.

Derin: When I heard he was back for good, I was like, “Oh, interesting.” We started hanging out again, and this time it was different. There was no expiration date or a return date in sight. He wasn’t leaving in a few weeks.

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Derin, when did you start seeing him in a different light?

Derin: Maybe a month in. We were at this restaurant in Lekki, and he was telling me about his plans for the future — the businesses he wanted to start and the kind of life he wanted to build. I realised he knows what he wants. That’s when I started thinking we could work something out. I wasn’t dating seriously — just a bunch of timewasters who weren’t sure what they wanted. But he felt different, and I wanted to see where it would lead with him.

Wahab: I asked her out officially in March 2021. She said yes this time..

Nice. What were the early days of the relationship like?

Derin: It was easy. We already knew each other’s quirks from those years of staying in touch. There was no pretence. We could just be ourselves.

Wahab: My family, especially my mum, loved her.. She always had kind words for Derin and would occasionally send her gifts. It was the sweetest thing to know that my mum accepted her wholeheartedly. Derin’s family was welcoming too. Everything fell into place.

So, at what point did marriage come into the conversation?

Wahab: Pretty early. We both knew what we wanted from the start of the relationship. By the end of 2021— nine months into dating—we’d had our introduction. Some people thought we were moving too fast, but we didn’t see it that way. We’d known each other for three years at that point. Why wait?

Derin: We got married in April 2022, and it was a beautiful ceremony. Just thinking about it now makes me smile. Both our families came together. It was everything we’d hoped for. After the wedding, we went to Ghana for our honeymoon. It was perfect.

Those first few weeks of marriage were the happiest of my life. We’d wake up together, cook breakfast, and enjoy being newlyweds. Everything felt right.

You said “those first few weeks.” What happened after?

Wahab: About four weeks later, our lives changed completely.

Derin: It was a Saturday morning in May 2022. I was in the kitchen making breakfast— eggs and toast. Wahab was in the living room watching TV. Then I heard this loud pop. Like something had exploded. But before I could turn around, there was fire everywhere. The gas cooker had exploded. I screamed. I tried to move, but the flames were spreading so fast. I couldn’t see anything in the thick smoke.

Wahab: I ran into the kitchen when I heard her scream. The whole room was on fire. I could barely see her through the smoke, but I knew I had to get her out. When I finally saw her on the floor, I grabbed and tried to pull her out, but I also got burned in the process. My hands, my stomach.

I was screaming in so much pain as I dragged her.

Derin: I don’t even remember much after that. I remember coughing, feeling like I was suffocating. Then everything went black.

I’m so sorry.

Derin: I don’t know how long I was out, but when I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed. My chest hurt so badly and I couldn’t breathe properly.

My mum was also beside me, and I wanted to ask her so many questions, but my throat was on fire. My mum noticed and just kept telling me to stay quiet. When she realised I was asking after Wahab, she just kept saying he was fine and I shouldn’t worry.

Wahab: I couldn’t even open my eyes very well when I woke up. My hands were bandaged. I had burns on my stomach. I asked the nurse where Derin was, and she told me she was in another ward.

You were in different wards?

Wahab: Yes. Because of our injuries. I had burns, and she had severe smoke inhalation. They kept us in separate rooms.

Derin: I kept asking when I could see him, but the doctors said I needed to focus on recovering first. My lungs were injured from the smoke. I could barely talk without coughing.

How long were you both hospitalised?

Derin: I was there for about six weeks. Wahab was there longer — about four months.

Wahab: Those months were hell. I couldn’t see my wife. I couldn’t hold her. We’d only been married for a month, and we were both lying in hospital beds, fighting for our lives.

Derin: We mostly communicated via phone calls. Our families would bring us phones, and we’d call each other every day. But it wasn’t the same. I wanted to be next to him, to hold his hands, to see for myself that he was okay.

Wahab: Honestly, those calls were the only thing keeping me sane. Hearing her voice reminded me that we were both still here, still alive. We tried to stay positive, but we were both scared. Scared of what this meant for us and our future. We’d just started our lives together, and now everything was falling apart.

Derin: I remember crying on the phone more than once while asking him, “Why did this happen to us?” He didn’t have an answer. Neither of us did.

You mentioned you left the hospital first, Derin. How did it feel leaving him behind?

Derin: Relieving, but also hard. I was discharged after six weeks, but I was still recovering. I couldn’t walk properly. My breathing was still bad. I had to do physiotherapy to build my strength back.

I wanted to visit Wahab, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the strength. Just getting out of bed was exhausting. My family kept telling me to rest and focus on my own recovery. But I felt so guilty about not being there for him. He was still in the hospital, and I couldn’t even visit. What kind of wife does that? We’d only been married a month, and I was already failing him.

Wahab: I didn’t feel that way entirely, though. She was sick. She needed to recover, too. But yeah, it was hard. I felt alone. I kept drawing up different scenarios in my head. Perhaps her family members want her to leave, or maybe she was considering it herself. Just the craziest thoughts forming in my head.

I can imagine. So when did you finally leave the hospital?

Wahab: I left around October and moved in with my parents. Our place had been destroyed by the fire. Everything we owned — our furniture, our clothes, our documents — burned to dust. We had nothing left.

It was a particularly challenging period that tested our faith and union. We were both still in pain — physically and emotionally. We couldn’t be intimate because we were still recovering. We couldn’t even have a normal conversation without one of us breaking down.

Derin: People visited and offered condolences as if we’d died. And some of them were saying things that still managed to get to us. They said maybe the explosion was a sign and we weren’t meant to be together. Just imagine.

How did that make you feel?

Wahab: Angry. Confused. I started questioning everything. Like, did we make a mistake? Is this punishment for something?

Derin: I didn’t believe that. However, hearing it over and over again got to me. I’d look at Wahab and wonder if he also had similar feelings about our union being a mistake.

Did you ever discuss those doubts with each other?

Wahab: Not really. We were both broken. We didn’t have the energy to dig into those kinds of conversations.

Derin: We weren’t being romantic or intentional about our marriage. We were just two people who’d gone through the same trauma, trying to survive each day.

Curious. What got you through that time?

Wahab: Family. Without them, I don’t think we would’ve made it. We couldn’t work for a while, and we never had to worry about money. Both my parents and Derin’s pulled their weight in every regard. We also had friends, siblings and cousins who surrounded us and wanted us to be as comfortable as possible.

Derin: And we were also there for each other. Even when we couldn’t talk about it, we were there. Wahab would sit with me when I cried. I’d hold his hand when the pain got too much. I don’t think we’ve cried together as much as we did during that period. It took two full years before we could even think about the future. We’d planned to have a baby in our first year of marriage. We’d planned to travel, to build a business together. None of that happened. Everything just stopped.

Wahab: By late 2023, we both realised we needed a fresh start. Everywhere we went in Nigeria reminded us of what happened. People still looked at us with pity. We couldn’t move forward. So we moved to the UK. It was the best decision we made. We could finally breathe again when we found ourselves in a place where people barely knew what we’d been through.

How is your marriage now?

Derin: Stronger. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true. We went through hell together. We saw each other at our lowest. And we’re still here.

Wahab: I look at her now and think about everything we survived. If we can make it through that, we can make it through anything.

What about children? You mentioned you wanted to have a baby in your first year.

Derin: We’re taking our time now. We’ve been through so much. We’re not rushing anything. When it happens, it happens. Currently, we’re focused on being happy. On actually enjoying our marriage.

That’s fair. What’s the best thing about being with each other?

Derin: The fact that we both stay present even when it’s not the easiest thing to do. When everything fell apart, when people were telling us it was a sign, when I couldn’t even visit him in the hospital, he stayed. That’s the kind of man I want to build a life with.

Wahab: Derin’s the strongest person I know. She went through hell and came out still believing in us. Still wanting to fight for this marriage. That’s everything to me.

If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1-10?

Wahab: 9. We’ve survived the worst, but we’re still healing. Still figuring out who we are after everything that happened.

Derin: 9 for me too. We’re not perfect. We have scars. But we’re here together, and that’s what matters.

What does the future look like?

Wahab: Hopeful. We’ve lost so much time, but we’re rebuilding. The life we wanted is still possible. It’s just starting later than we planned.

Derin: We’re going to have kids. Travel. Grow old together. The explosion slowed us down, but it didn’t stop us. We’re still fighting, and we’re not giving up.

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

Take the survey here.

There’s this long-standing idea that men only respond to toughness, stoicism and all the loud parts of masculinity. But that’s not always the truth; men want love, reassurance and softness just as much as anyone else.

For International Men’s Day, we asked 10 Nigerian men to share what they truly desire in love and how they want to receive care in their romantic and platonic relationships.

“I want the space to be vulnerable without fear” — Timothy*, 27

For Timothy, love and vulnerability in a safe environment define what love means to him.

“Being loved means I can open up to my partner and be vulnerable without feeling like I’ve made a wrong choice.

I wish women knew that I love how I am treated when I see the same level of energy and enthusiasm I give. I hate feeling like a second option or replacement. If I get the same vim I’m giving out, I feel like that connection is special.

I feel most cared for when my partner or friend comes through for me when I need their help. If I can count on you when it matters, it tells me you really rate me.

“I’m a simple man; I don’t need the grandest efforts to feel loved” Abraham*, 30

For Abraham, love doesn’t have to be grand over the top as long as it feels safe and nurturing.

“Being loved feels like a warm hug for my soul; like having a safety net that’s always there, catching me when I fall. It’s the comfort of knowing the people I consider intimately have my back, no matter what.

I like to think of myself as a simple man who doesn’t require the grandest effort to make me feel loved. This means I love the way I want to be loved. Sadly, this doesn’t always translate well, since everyone has their own love language. However, I’ve been intentional about communicating this as often as possible with the women—platonic and romantic—in my life. It’s been a work in progress; love itself requires constant nurturing and tweaking to accommodate the feelings of the people experiencing it.”

“I want to be gifted more” — Lore*, 25

For Lore, the best way to his heart is through a thoughtful gift from the women he holds dear.

“I like gifts a lot. I feel like a lot of the women in my life think I want to be told it’s okay to cry or be more vulnerable. I don’t think that’s the best way to celebrate my existence as a man. To me, it’s lazy. Gifts do it better for me.

If I feel supported — financially and emotionally — and I’m with someone with effective communication, there’s not much more I desire in a relationship.”

“Loving men requires more intentional work” — Tony*, 24

Tony believes that for men to feel more comfortable expressing their emotions, they need to be given signals that it’s safe to do so.

“I believe that loving men often requires a little more intentional clarity than just telling them ‘Be more vulnerable.’ Many men feel deeply, but don’t always have the language to express those feelings, so small, steady signals mean a lot.

Consistency, genuine appreciation, and a safe space to relax where I don’t have to perform strength matter to me. I don’t need grand gestures; I just need to know my presence matters and my efforts aren’t invisible. I need to know that it’s okay for me to be soft when necessary without a question tag on my masculinity.”

“Kindness and love are intertwined for me” — Murewa*, 28.

For Murewa, love, kindness and accountability are closely knitted and shape what he looks for in love.

“To love me is to be kind to me. I despise assholes who find it hard to take accountability or apologise for their questionable behaviours. These people would rather make excuses because they’ve grown used to getting away with it. They have no place in my life.

I love in my love language, and I’m willing to learn theirs and give my 100%. All I ask in return is that you give me 100% too. Be expressive and show kindness. Don’t be self-centred or snobbish. People can care and still be all these things, which I find mind-boggling. Many relationships have ended because of this. ”

“I wish women knew that loving physical touch doesn’t translate to sex” — David*, 27

All David wants in a relationship is emotional support and good food.

“I feel most loved when my partner believes in me, cares for me and supports me and loves physical touch. I especially enjoy it when I have similar interests and hobbies as my partner; it just makes things easier for me.

I wish more women understood that loving physical touch doesn’t always mean it has to end in sex. I just enjoy non-sexual physical intimacy with my friends and romantic partners.”

“When I’m appreciated by my loved ones, I feel seen” — Bolu*, 31

Bolu wishes the women in his life knew that, even if it doesn’t always look like it, he’s trying his best.

“Being loved and appreciated by my loved ones makes me feel seen and is one of the many ways I define love. I wish the women in my life knew I’m trying my best even when it doesn’t look like it. Past hurt and trauma have influenced some of my past actions, but I’m genuinely trying. It would be nice to receive some acknowledgement as a form of encouragement to continue on this path.”

“Consistency makes me feel cared for” — Toluwani*, 29

Toluwani believes love looks like grace, and he feels most cared for when the support he gives others comes back to him with the same consistency.

“For me, love feels like grace. It’s when someone chooses not to assume the worst about me in a moment where they easily could. When they see me on a rough day, they treat it as what it is — a rough day. It also looks like space: the freedom to be unsure, to say what I mean without rehearsing it first. It makes me human in a way I don’t always permit myself to be: living, breathing, still growing.

Much of what I do stems from a simple place: I give because it feels natural to me. Being useful — offering help, stepping in quietly, doing small things that make someone’s day easier — is my way of showing care. There’s no hidden motive in it. I’m not keeping scores. It wears me down when I’m treated like there must be.

That consistency makes me feel cared for. I appreciate knowing what to expect and feeling confident in someone’s patterns. When my partner is steady and predictable in how they show up, it gives me one less thing to worry about. It’s the reliability that lets me relax. It tells me I don’t have to brace myself.”

“Just because I want some space doesn’t mean I don’t love you” — Ibrahim*, 27

For Ibrahim, nothing beats the security of feeling loved and valued by the people around him.

“I always think of genuine happiness when I think of love. Knowing someone truly cares tells me they value me, and that comes with the knowledge that they want the best for me. That sense of security makes everything feel better.

This also applies to the women in my life. I wish they knew that I still care deeply for them, even when I need some space. With me, silence doesn’t translate to unreciprocated love.

I feel cared for when the women in my life show up during hard times. It’s another way to show that you value me.”

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“Supporting my interests shows that you know me, and I love that” — Adesoji*, 30

Adesoji shares how his wife’s intuitive support of his interests immediately made him feel safe and loved.

“You know when, as a kid, something bad happens and your parent soothes you? That’s how being loved feels, a deep comfort. Protected. Reassured.

I wish more women would try to figure out other people’s love languages. I did that with my wife. You should ask yourself, ‘How does this person love, and how do they express love?’ Sometimes, a person who loves gifts might express their love through acts of service. It’s important to always seek clarity of intentions..

During our early years, I once visited her in a different city, and she planned a visit to a museum for me. I hadn’t asked, but she knew my love for history and culture, and knew exactly what I would enjoy. It showed that she cared and wanted me to be happy. That’s exactly what makes me feel cared for in a relationship: careful consideration.”

See what other people are saying about this article on social media.

We’re surveying Nigerians about their real experiences with relationships—the good, the bad, the complicated. Whether you’re single, married, divorced, or somewhere in between, your story matters.

This anonymous survey will help us create Nigeria’s most comprehensive report on modern love. Click here to participate.

Extra income used to mean late nights or weekends working a second job. Now, with tools like ChatGPT, earning income can be surprisingly beginner-friendly.

Since its launch in 2022, ChatGPT has assisted millions with various tasks. But some people are taking it a step further: turning AI into a real money-making machine.

If you’re looking for ways to make extra cash without overloading your schedule, there are simple, creative ways to start earning today. Here are 15 options to explore:

1. Tutoring

If you’ve mastered a subject: Math, English, Sciences or Arts, tutoring can be a solid way to make extra cash. Tutors usually set their own rates, depending on experience and subject.

ChatGPT can help you create practice questions, quizzes, and study guides tailored to a student’s grade level. However, you need to remember to double-check everything — AI often generates incorrect information.

2. Virtual Assistance

Virtual assistants help busy people, freelancers, and small business owners stay on top of their work. You can manage emails, calendars, social media, or customer messages, and ChatGPT makes this much easier by drafting emails, writing captions, or even suggesting schedules.

It’s a flexible role that can be performed remotely, and the rate can vary between ₦125,000 and ₦300,000 per month, depending on the client. The AI support enables you to offer more services without requiring any specialised technical skills.

3. Landing Page & Sales Copy Creation

Small businesses and entrepreneurs need compelling landing pages that convert. ChatGPT can help you write headlines, product benefits, call-to-action messages, and overall page copy tailored to the brand’s voice. You don’t need a marketing degree; you just need to understand your audience and the problem your product solves. Landing page copywriting is a high-value service: one page can earn $100–$ 500 or more on freelance platforms, making it a lucrative side hustle.

4. Language & Translation Services

If you’re multilingual, ChatGPT can speed up translation tasks. It can produce a first-pass translation, and you refine it to make sure the wording, tone, and meaning are accurate. Your fluency is still key. ChatGPT isn’t perfect, but it can save a significant amount of time when combined with your knowledge.

5. Travel Planning

Love planning trips? As a travel agent, you can help people design itineraries, find deals, and create travel guides. ChatGPT can assist by suggesting destinations, day-by-day plans, packing lists, and even personalised travel tips. Travel agents earn commissions or service fees, and side hustlers can make hundreds of thousands per month, depending on how much time they put in.

6. Resume & Cover Letter Writing

Job seekers are willing to invest in resumes and cover letters to make a strong impression. ChatGPT can analyse job descriptions, highlight skills, and draft polished documents that catch the eye of recruiters or applicant tracking systems. You can offer these services efficiently, but make sure your personal touch shows — fully AI-written resumes may feel generic and not provide clients with the edge they need.

7. Editing & Proofreading Services

Writers, bloggers, and businesses need clean, clear, and professional text. ChatGPT can help you catch grammatical errors, tighten sentence flow, and suggest more effective word choices.

You can even offer different levels of editing, including light proofreading, style enhancement, or a complete content overhaul. By combining AI with your attention to detail, you can scale faster and deliver higher-quality work in less time.

8. Social Media Management

Businesses and professionals need engaging social media, and that’s where you come in. ChatGPT can help you generate post ideas, write captions, find hashtags, and even organise a content calendar. This means you can manage multiple accounts efficiently and help brands grow without endlessly staring at a screen.

9. Video & Podcast Scriptwriting

Content creators and brands need scripts for YouTube videos, TikToks, or podcasts. ChatGPT can generate engaging outlines, dialogue, and talking points based on your topic, audience, and preferred style. You provide the finishing touch: adding humour, examples, or personality to make it authentic. Scriptwriting can be billed per script or per episode, ranging from $30 to $200 per project, depending on your experience, client, and the complexity of the script.

10. Product Description Writing for E-Commerce

E-commerce sellers consistently require compelling product descriptions to convert browsers into buyers. ChatGPT can draft catchy titles, bullet points, and persuasive descriptions for a wide range of products, from fashion items to gadgets. Your role is to tweak for accuracy, tone, and brand voice. Sellers pay well for high-quality content because good descriptions have a direct impact on sales.

Related: 5 Nigerians Break Down the Side Hustles That Pay More Than Their Salaries

11. Digital Products

Selling digital products is a low-effort, high-reward way to earn money. ChatGPT can help you create printables, such as planners, guides, budget trackers, or worksheets. You can sell these on platforms like Etsy , Paystack Storefront or Flutterwave store, reach buyers instantly, and make a steady side income without managing physical stock or complicated design software.

12. Online Courses & Workshops

Turn your knowledge into a course. ChatGPT can help you draft lesson plans, educational content, and workbooks. You can sell these on platforms like Selar, Mainstack or Gumroad.

Set your prices, offer bundles, or even subscription plans. The platform handles payments and delivery, so your primary focus is on teaching and letting AI handle the heavy lifting.

13. YouTube Channel

Starting a YouTube channel is a fun and profitable side hustle. ChatGPT can help brainstorm video ideas, create compelling titles, and even draft descriptions that attract viewers. To start earning, you’ll need 1,000 subscribers and 4,000 hours of watch time (or 10 million Shorts views). Once you meet the requirements, you can monetise with ads, memberships, and more.

14. Personalised Meal Plans & Nutrition Guides

If you have a background or interest in nutrition, fitness, or healthy eating, you can use ChatGPT to generate tailored meal plans for clients. Simply input your dietary preferences, restrictions, and goals, and ChatGPT will create weekly meal guides and shopping lists. You provide the personal touch, checking for health accuracy, making substitutions, and adding tips. This can be monetised per plan or via monthly subscriptions for recurring income.

15. Research & Report Assistance for Entrepreneurs and Graduate Students

Struggling to dig through mountains of information for a project, thesis, or business idea? ChatGPT can save hours of research by summarising articles, comparing data points, and generating structured reports. Entrepreneurs can quickly understand market trends or competitors, while students can get an organised starting point for essays or dissertations. The key is always to fact-check — ChatGPT is fast, but it can get details wrong. Charge per report, per hour, or per project, depending on complexity.

Tips for Maximising Efficiency and Earnings With ChatGPT

ChatGPT can save hours, but the key is knowing how to use it effectively.

Batch similar tasks together, such as generating multiple product descriptions or video scripts simultaneously.
Use detailed prompts to get more accurate and creative results. Don’t just settle for the first output; refine, tweak, and personalise it.
Repurpose content whenever possible: a blog post can be transformed into a newsletter, a social media thread, or even a video script.
The faster you work, the more clients or projects you can take on, which directly means more money. Efficiency isn’t just about speed; it’s about turning ChatGPT into a high-earning sidekick.

Ethics, Safety, and Legal Things to Keep in Mind

AI is powerful, but it comes with responsibility. Always fact-check information before delivering it to clients or publishing it. Avoid presenting fully AI-generated content as your own without adding value, as you may encounter copyright or plagiarism issues.

If you’re dealing with sensitive data: client info, student work, or personal health details — handle it carefully. Transparency is key: let clients know how you’re using AI to assist your work. Doing so builds trust and protects both you and your side hustle from legal or ethical complications.

Tools & Apps That Make ChatGPT Money-Making Easier

You don’t need coding skills to automate and scale your ChatGPT side hustles. No-code tools can make a huge difference:

Zapier / Make (Integromat): Automate workflows like sending AI-generated content to Google Docs, emails, or social media.
Canva: Turn ChatGPT-written copy into visual content for social media or digital products.
Notion / Trello: Organise content calendars, client tasks, and ideas efficiently.
Buffer / Hootsuite: Schedule AI-generated social posts across multiple platforms.

Combine ChatGPT with these tools, and you can handle more clients, deliver faster, and earn more without burning out.

Common Mistakes People Make When Using ChatGPT for Money

Even the best AI is useless if used incorrectly. Common pitfalls include:

Relying 100% on AI: You still need a human touch, especially for proofreading, creativity, and client-specific customisation.
Poor prompt crafting: Vague prompts = vague results. Be specific about tone, style, and format.
Ignoring copyright and plagiarism rules: Using AI-generated content without adding your own input can be a risky practice.
Overpromising: Don’t guarantee results you can’t control, like viral social posts or guaranteed sales.
Skipping fact-checking: ChatGPT can hallucinate; double-check numbers, dates, and information before delivering.

Avoid these mistakes, and your side hustle will run more smoothly, efficiently, and profitably.

The Bottom Line

ChatGPT is a tool that can help you make money, even if you’re not tech-savvy.

The trick is to combine human creativity, ethical practices, and smart workflows. Start small, refine your process, and scale gradually. With a bit of planning and a lot of curiosity, ChatGPT can transform a simple side hustle into a reliable revenue stream or even a full-time opportunity.

“I turned $1,200 into almost $10,000 by taking profits early from a crypto trade” — Korede, 25

I’m a full-time crypto trader, so I’ve spent a significant part of my year rotating money into different coins, taking profits when possible, and protecting my capital when the market turns. When I talk about my smartest investment of 2025, one trade stands out.

On September 17, a relatively unknown token called “A S T E R” began gaining attention after CZ, the co-founder of Binance and one of the most influential voices in the crypto industry, mentioned it on Twitter. His endorsements tend to move markets, so I took it seriously.

I caught the token early, at around $0.17 per unit, and allocated about 10% of my portfolio — roughly $1200 — to it. At the time, it didn’t feel like a big, calculated bet. I was just trading how I typically do: get in early, monitor sentiment, and react fast.

But it became my most profitable trade of the year.

My trading income fluctuates between ₦700k and ₦1m monthly, sometimes more when the market is bullish. Still, nothing this year matched what that token “A S T E R” did. Once it started pumping, I sold in stages. Any time I saw a 200–300% pump, I took partial profits and left the rest to compound.

By the time I exited fully after 48 hours, selling portions at $0.40 and eventually the rest at around $0.80, my $1,200 had grown to almost $10,000 — an 8x return.

The token eventually crossed a 10x surge, but I had already taken all my profits. I needed the win more than I needed the perfect top, so I wasn’t going to be greedy. The combination of discipline and the luck of catching the token early made it my smartest investment of 2025.

Related: These 10 Nigerian Stocks Quietly Turned Investors Into Millionaires in Just 6 Months

“I don’t chase quick riches; I show up, invest, and compound over time” — Emmanuel, 25

I work in media and earn between ₦200k and ₦500k a month. My financial priority this year has been simple: to build a long-term buffer and grow my wealth. Investing is the tool that helps me do that, so it’s central to everything I do.

Stocks are my smartest investments in 2025. I bought into Coreweave, an AI startup, which nearly doubled in value. But if I look at all my holdings, Viasat has been my biggest winner since I started investing last year, up more than 300%. I saw a recommendation from an analyst, did some digging, and noticed strong prospects, especially its contracts with the US government. When a congressperson disclosed a purchase earlier this year, I doubled down.

I don’t invest to become wealthy overnight — so the power of investing shows over the long term. My strategy is simple: diversify, be consistent, and balance risk. Stocks are my higher-risk plays, while fixed deposits, Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs), mutual funds, Treasury bills (T-bills), and equity funds provide steady foundations. This balance lets me take bigger bets on opportunities like Coreweave without jeopardising my base.

I invest a set portion of my income each month, currently a little over ₦30,000, and let my income growth determine the increases. Even if I earn more than usual in a month, I stick to the plan. This year, I’ve invested approximately $80 in US stocks using wealth-tech apps like Bamboo to buy fractional shares. That means I don’t need to pay the full share price. I can invest as little as $2, with roughly $1 going to fees. My $80 has already returned $115, and combined with other alternative assets, my portfolio has surpassed $300, including returns.

It’s proof that small, consistent steps build financial discipline over time, and those habits compound far more than any single “big win.”

For example, Coreweave nearly doubled this year. I bought it at $5 per fraction, and it’s now worth $8.77 per fraction. Viasat remains my most profitable overall investment: I bought it at $3.71, and it’s now worth $15.37. Across all my assets, I’ve more than doubled my capital, reinforcing the value of patience, consistency, and thinking long-term.

Investing won’t make me rich instantly, but I know that by starting early, sticking to my plan, and combining it with other wealth-building moves like starting a business, owning equity, or supporting friends’ ventures, I’m setting myself up to win the long game.

“Knowledge plus positioning equals opportunity. That’s my smartest investment this year,” — Mariam, 22

I’m a student working in Web3, with a primary focus on community, content, and ecosystem growth. My income sits between ₦200k– ₦500k, and at the start of 2025, my main goal was simple: to increase my income and build a proper financial cushion without spreading myself too thin.

My smartest investment this year was putting both time and money into learning Web3 properly and getting in early on a few solid projects. At first, it wasn’t about the money at all; it was about understanding the space.

Web3 rewards people who are early and consistent. I realised that knowledge plus positioning equals opportunity, so I treated learning, content creation, and early participation like an investment.

I started small with beginner-friendly projects, dedicating a few hours a week to learning, creating content, and consistently showing up. The returns weren’t just financial; they came in the form of growth, connections, job opportunities, and project incentives.

It’s my most brilliant move because it changed my earning power. It also taught me that at this stage of my life, the best investment isn’t always money; it’s skills, knowledge, and showing up early in the right spaces.

“I bought land today for my future self. Patience now, multimillion returns later” — Shittu, 26

I bought a plot of land in Ibadan this year for ₦3.5 million, and it’s probably my smartest long-term investment yet. I didn’t just stumble into it. I’d been saving for over three years, cutting back on unnecessary expenses, and being deliberate about setting aside money for something that would grow in value over time.

It isn’t about instant gratification. Land is a patient investment. I know the ₦3.5 million I spent isn’t going anywhere tomorrow, and I’m okay with that. In ten years, that same piece of land could easily be worth five times what I paid, maybe more, and potentially pay me in multimillions. It’s the kind of asset that doesn’t just sit there; it appreciates, and it protects you against inflation in a way that a savings account can’t.

The best part is that this was money I could afford to put away — money I know I could do without in my day-to-day life, which gave me the confidence to commit without stress. Every time I think about it, I view it as an investment in my future financial freedom. It’s about patience, strategy, and understanding that some of the smartest investments aren’t flashy or quick; they’re the ones that grow quietly, steadily, and reliably over time.

“She became afraid of what we shared” — Jolade*, 25, Bisexual

Jolade shares how her first big love fizzled out after her ex couldn’t face the reality of her sexuality and pulled back.

“I met my former partner two years ago at church. We were part of the social media team and paired to work on a project together. In the process, we became close. We hung out even after the project ended, and it eventually morphed into something else.

We both knew we were queer before meeting, but that was the first queer relationship either of us had been in. It went well at first, but when we got physical, she began to pull away.

She claimed she felt guilty about what we were doing, and insisted God wasn’t happy with us. Then she said she didn’t want to like it too much and had to stop and get with a guy while she still could — whatever that meant. We officially broke up after a year, although things between us ended long before then.

I was hurt for a long time after we fizzled out. I tried to shut down the part of me that liked girls, but it didn’t work. It’s been a long road to accepting myself and trying to reconcile my faith and sexuality. It’s an ongoing and perhaps lifelong process. I haven’t found closure yet. I think a door is still open in my mind for her because she was my first great love. I’m not holding my breath that she’ll come back, though.”

“She told me she was getting married to a man” — Rukayah*, 25, Non-binary pansexual

Rukayah shares the heartbreak they felt when their ex told them she was getting married on the day of her wedding.

“My ex and I met at university. Her room was right next to mine, and we bonded over our shared love for movies and our favourite celebrities. We became best friends, and I got comfortable enough to come out to her. She came out to me as bisexual in return.

A short while later, we realised we had feelings for each other and started a casual sexual relationship. I didn’t think my feelings for her were so strong, but after she graduated a year before I did, I realised I wanted to make her mine. So, I asked her out, and we started dating.

I noticed things were off when she’d say she wished I were a chishet man, so everything will be a lot easier, ’ or talk about how scared she felt to enter the relationship because she’s the first daughter of her muslim parents. They’d expect marriage from her as soon as she graduated. I didn’t think too deeply about it because I know how hard it is to be queer in a place like Nigeria.

Then, in May 2023, she ghosted me. I started to worry about her safety, especially her mental health. One day, I woke up to a 3:00 a.m. message from her saying she was having her wedding introduction later that day, she didn’t know how to tell me, and she was sorry.

I was her best friend, but she never mentioned any man. I didn’t know if there had ever been a proposal or an official engagement.

I was gutted. A part of me always worried about our future as queer people living in Nigeria. It made me wonder where we’d end up. I stopped dating bisexual women who partner with cishet men after that. It made me develop bad insecurity and trust issues.

I don’t think I’ve gotten any closure from that experience. My ex wasn’t willing to talk about it after she apologised for hurting me and being selfish. I had to do the work of healing and coming to terms with the entire experience on my own. Fortunately, I’m the kind of person who loves love, and I’ve had the opportunity to love and experience some awesome people as a result. ”

“I saw him with his girlfriend on campus” — Emeka*, 28, Gay

Emeka recalls how his ex hurt him by not giving him the courtesy of a break-up message.

“We met at school and got close when we took the same elective course in our third year. After class, we’d walk back to my hostel cafeteria for lunch, and soon we started hanging out even when we didn’t have that course.

I was attracted to him from the start, and I tried to hide it, but he constantly flirted with me when we were alone. One day, he visited my apartment off campus, and we had sex. It was amazing for me. We weren’t officially together, but we spent a lot of time together and saw each other at least once or twice a week for the rest of our third year.

When we resumed for final year, I suddenly couldn’t reach him. He stopped visiting and ignored my messages and calls. I started to worry because I didn’t know his friends or how else to reach him. During that resumption week, as I headed to class, I saw him walking with a babe. I waved at him, and he just looked away like he didn’t see me.

It stung, I won’t lie. I felt disposable. I still tried to contact him just to get some closure. I wanted him to at least say we were through, but he just blocked me. After that, it became tough for me to open up again. I didn’t even try to date anyone until after I graduated. I still have trust issues. I don’t fuck with bisexual or pansexual men at all. I think there’s a part of me that’s still afraid of getting dumped without a hint of care.”

“She seemed removed from her sexuality” — Sarah*, 25, Bisexual

Sarah shares how her first girl crush opened her eyes to her bisexuality and how she handled it when she chose another guy over her.

“We met in school, and I was always attracted to her, but I hadn’t yet accepted that I liked women. We went to a party together off-campus, and I remember hoping I’d get to kiss her during a kissing game. She came with a guy she was seeing, but I didn’t mind because I liked him too.

After that, we became friends who sometimes made out, but nothing more. In public, she spent more time with the guy. I still liked her, but the more we talked, the more I noticed that she had distanced herself from her queerness, and that’s not where I am at all.

I’m comfortable with my sexuality and don’t feel any need to compensate or hide. I’ve moved on and kept exploring my options. The experience with her didn’t really affect how I saw myself or my identity. I was hurt when I realised that she wasn’t going to choose me, but that was about it.”

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“She popped out on Instagram with a boyfriend” — Wura*, 24, Non-binary Lesbian

Wura shares how their situationship ended when their ex started dating a guy out of fear of being outed.

“I met her at a party off campus, and we were immediately drawn to each other. She told me she was bisexual and joked that I’d ruin her for boys after we kissed. She was still deep in the closet when we started our situationship. She didn’t like me touching her in public, but I thought she was just being careful because of how homophobic people can be, especially in the North.

One day, during a visit to her hostel, her roommates were joking about the way I dressed and asked her if I was her husband. She laughed, but I felt something change between us after that. She started pulling back and took longer and longer to respond to my messages. Then, one day, she stopped replying altogether..

I’d already started to worry after a week of no contact when one of our mutual friends sent me a link to her post. She’d hard-launched a boyfriend on her page.

It felt like whiplash. I tried to reach out to her for an explanation, but she just kept saying she was sorry. I got upset and blocked her everywhere for my peace of mind. I’m not sure if I’ve gotten closure from that split. We weren’t even official, so it feels like mourning something that never was.

It made me feel a bit insecure, but I’ve since overcome that, thanks to my community. I understand her fear, though. I just wish she’d tried to talk to me about it so we could end things properly. It hurt, but thankfully, I’m over it.”

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We’re creating something Nigeria has never had: a comprehensive, data-backed report on how young Nigerians really experience love, dating, marriage, and relationships.

But we need your voices to make it happen. Whether you’re: single and navigating the dating scene, in a relationship trying to figure it out, married and living the reality, divorced and healing, engaged and planning your future, your experience matters. This survey is 100% anonymous. Participate here to help shape the national conversation about love in Nigeria.

What was the moment that made you realise this friendship was sinking?

Tell me how you guys met.

Did you guys ever meet up to hang out?

What was that fight about?

Whoa. That’s a lot, tell me what happened?

Ah. Was that the first time she burrowed money from you?

Ah. Did you ask when she’d be able to pay you back?

How did that make you feel?

Okay, when was the next time you reached out?

What was her response?

Did this make you scared that she would never pay you back?

Did they directly get involved?

Why didn’t you want them to interfere?

So how did they get involved?

How did this make you feel?

What happened after that?

I see, what did they do with it?

Did she call you like your mum suggested?

How do you mean?

How did that make you feel?

So what did you do?

What did she do?

Wow, that’s cold. Did you reach out to her again?

What did she do?

Omo! Did you respond to that?

How did she respond?

Did you wax stronger after that?

What happened?

What did you do when you came to that conclusion?

Do you think you’d consider reconciling with Chika if she were to reach out?

As told to Aisha Bello

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What’s your earliest memory of each other?

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Sweet. What happened next?

Why, Derin?

Fair enough. So when did things change?

Derin, when did you start seeing him in a different light?

Nice. What were the early days of the relationship like?

So, at what point did marriage come into the conversation?

You said “those first few weeks.” What happened after?

I’m so sorry.

You were in different wards?

How long were you both hospitalised?

You mentioned you left the hospital first, Derin. How did it feel leaving him behind?

I can imagine. So when did you finally leave the hospital?

How did that make you feel?

Did you ever discuss those doubts with each other?

Curious. What got you through that time?

How is your marriage now?

What about children? You mentioned you wanted to have a baby in your first year.

That’s fair. What’s the best thing about being with each other?

How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1-10?

What does the future look like?

“I want the space to be vulnerable without fear” — Timothy*, 27

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“I’m a simple man; I don’t need the grandest efforts to feel loved” Abraham*, 30

“I want to be gifted more” — Lore*, 25