Imagine being with someone who ticks all your boxes, but the sex? Mid. You’ve spent months fake-moaning through it so you don’t bruise their ego, but now, you’re exhausted. Even thinking about bringing it up gives you a headache. What if they take it the wrong way? What if it leads to a fight or they call you an ashewo?
For many Nigerians, talking about sexual needs can feel awkward, even shameful. But it doesn’t have to be that hard. We spoke to six Nigerians about how they navigated the conversation, and a sex therapist who shared how to have ‘the talk’ without ruining your relationship.
“I had to bring it up mid-fight” – Adah*, 25
*Adah’s sex life felt like a bad case of ‘what I ordered vs what I got’. Her takeaway? If bad sex doesn’t kill you, resentment might.
“We started talking online and finally met after months of a long-distance relationship. He promised me heaven-on-earth sex, but when it finally happened, it was underwhelming. I cried.
He must have sensed it too because he started making excuses— that he was tired and wasn’t used to my body. I pretended it was good because I didn’t want to be rude, but each time we had sex, I got more frustrated. I only vented to my friends. Soon, I started dreading sex altogether. I’d come up with a hundred excuses just to avoid it.
I eventually exploded during a fight and told him how unhappy I was. That conversation didn’t go well. It actually led to our breakup.”
“I was in so much pain, but said it was great” — Ayo*, 26
*Ayo didn’t expect his first encounter with his crush to leave him crab walking for days. Turns out, he couldn’t match her freak.
“I was into this girl I met, but when we finally hooked up, I had no idea she was a dominatrix. She locked the door, told me to strip, and started jerking me off super aggressively.
It hurt so bad, I was wincing. I asked her to go easy, but she wasn’t listening. I eventually gave up and let it play out. When it ended, I told her it was great, even though I was in pain for days. I honestly feared my penis might fall off.”
“I fake orgasms just so he’ll stop” — Ayesha*, 30
*Ayesha’s situation left her wondering if love is enough reason to keep faking pleasure forever
“I love my partner, but I’ve never orgasmed with him. For a long time, I thought I was the problem. He’s amazing in so many ways, but he just doesn’t get me there.
After some research, I realised we needed more foreplay, so I hinted at it and we tried to incorporate it. But now, there’s a new problem: oral sex hurts. He uses his teeth, and I end up faking orgasms so that he’ll stop.
I know I need to say something, but I can’t bring myself to. I’m scared of hurting his ego; it might even affect our relationship.”
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“I don’t know how to tell her my mind is with my ex” — Mubarak*, 29
*Mubarak’s body is present, but his mind? With someone else. It’s hard to admit to himself, let alone his partner.
“During sex with my partner, I find my mind drifting to my ex. I hate it, but I keep comparing them. It makes me feel guilty. What’s worse is, I now struggle to stay hard. One time, I lost control barely after we started. I shook and pretended to orgasm just to avoid explaining what was wrong. She’s mostly focused on her own pleasure, so she hasn’t noticed.
I also don’t enjoy oral sex because she uses too much teeth. I always ask her to stop, hoping she’ll get the hint. But nothing has changed.”
“I want more from sex, but I’m scared to say it” — Esther*, 42
*Esther’s story shows how years of shame and tradition can hold one back from speaking up.
“I grew up believing sex was something you gave your husband as a duty, not something to enjoy. So when I got married, I didn’t expect much. It was just part of the routine.
But after hearing my friends talk about enjoying sex, I started wondering why I didn’t. I researched and learned about foreplay and intimacy, and I want to try those things. But my husband is very traditional. I don’t even know how to start that conversation. I’m scared he’ll shame me for even thinking about it. So I’ve just accepted it as my cross to bear.”
How to Have the Conversation Without Hurting Your Partner
We asked Ms Feyikemi Fawole, a certified sex therapist and sexual wellness educator, to walk us through how to approach difficult sex conversations and how to respond if you’re on the receiving end.
1. Understand there’s nothing to be ashamed of
Feyikemi explains that shame is valid, but it shouldn’t be the end of the conversation.
“Like in *Esther’s case, many women think it’s wrong to want pleasure, let alone talk about it. But what’s worse — speaking up and improving things, or constantly dreading intimacy with the person you love?”
She also clarifies, “While society often pits religion against sexual conversations, no religion forbids them. Culture has simply made people feel like talking about sex makes them sound loose or excessive. But sex is meant to be mutual. It takes two to enjoy it, and you deserve to be heard. Silence shouldn’t be the price of someone else’s comfort.”
2. Ease into it
“Start with emotional check-ins about your sex life.” Feyikemi says. “People who talk regularly about sex find it easier to bring up what’s working and what isn’t. You can start light — talk about sex casually, send flirty or suggestive messages, or ask playful questions. These little moments help build comfort and confidence.
If it still feels too difficult, you can even suggest couples therapy as a way to open the door together.
3. Consider the timing
There’s good and bad timing when talking about sex. “Right after sex is not the time to talk,” Feyikemi says. “Let your partner enjoy the moment and feel good. Save the conversation for when they’re genuinely relaxed and in a positive mood.”
Avoid bringing it up during arguments or a fight — heightened emotions can make your partner feel attacked. Timing and body language are just as important as the words you use.
4. Use the right tone
“Don’t start with ‘you,’” she warns. Saying ‘you don’t satisfy me’ puts your partner on the defensive. Instead, try softer, self-focused phrases like ‘I really enjoy it when my penis is handled gently’ or ‘I’d love it if we tried this next time.’ This invites improvement without sounding like an attack.
Tone matters when your partner is dealing with issues beyond their control, like erectile dysfunction, painful sex, or insecurities about size. In these moments, it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it. If your delivery feels accusatory or impatient, your partner won’t hear your intention.
Try: ‘Can we work on this together?’ or ‘How can I support you?’ You can even bring up lifestyle factors like stress or diet gently. Be a teammate, not a critic.
What if you’re on the receiving end?
According to Feyikemi, your first reaction matters. “Pause. Breathe. Don’t take it as an attack or rejection. Your partner is opening up because they want you to be better, not because they’re trying to shame you.
You can always unlearn and relearn. Watch educational videos. Read. Get curious. Sexual satisfaction is something you can work on, and you’re not a failure for needing growth.”
The bottom line? You need emotional safety
If you want to have honest conversations about sex, you need to feel safe. Emotional safety makes it easier to say the hard things. Regular check-ins, soft teasing, and vulnerability all help build that trust.
When safety is missing, silence gets louder, and the sex doesn’t get better. If communication keeps breaking down, it might be time to re-evaluate the relationship.
*Tokini, 28, never thought marriage was in the cards for her. A childhood marked by loss and trauma convinced her it wasn’t worth the risk. But two years into a marriage where her husband rubs her feet, fills her water bottle every night and never lets her lift a finger, she’s terrified — not because the love is fading, but because she doesn’t know if she’ll ever find this kind of love again if she loses him.
This is a look into Tokini’s marriage diary.
I never saw myself getting married
I didn’t grow up dreaming of marriage. My mum died when I was young, and I watched my dad spiral into depression. It was a scary sight. I saw firsthand what it meant to lose a partner, and I didn’t want to feel that kind of pain. On top of that, I didn’t know what a typical family dynamic looked like. The few examples I saw around me felt off. Women in those marriages seemed like second-class citizens while their husbands were kings. I couldn’t picture myself in that kind of setup.
That changed when I joined a religious group. I started seeing married couples who actually looked like they enjoyed each other’s company. During prayer sessions, they’d hold hands. They had kids, but still called each other “babe” and “sweetheart.” They looked like best friends. I remember seeing a man I respected use his handkerchief to wipe his wife’s sweaty cleavage. It was such a tender moment, and I was mesmerised. It was the first time I thought, “Maybe marriage isn’t so bad. But what are the chances of finding a man like this?”
Eventually, I started dating and got married.
But I had to overcome a lot of trauma. I was molested as a child, first by a neighbour and later by my dad. He used to drink a lot after my mum died, and did things he wouldn’t even remember. That experience messed with how I saw my body. I didn’t feel like it was something to be protected — I had to protect it myself. But my husband was the first person who truly respected my body. He made me feel like I deserved care. He’s the one who first told me, “You need to cherish your body.”
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Marriage has made me realise how spoilt I am
I’ve always been on the big side, so before marriage, I was used to eating just once a day, maybe snacking on biscuits when I felt hungry. Cooking wasn’t really part of my life.
Now I’m married, and the biggest surprise has been how much thought and planning go into food. If we’re going out tomorrow, I have to think of what we’ll eat before leaving. If we’re travelling, I need to plan light meals. The mental load is overwhelming.
My husband tries his best to lighten the load. When I complained about sweeping and cleaning, he got a cleaner. When I grumbled about laundry, he got a dry cleaner and eventually hired someone who does all the laundry. We also have someone who shops for food and preps it, like cleaning the vegetables.
Still, with five soups in the freezer, we’ll be stuck figuring out what to eat at night. I make suggestions and he goes, “Oh, I’ve had too much rice,” or “I’d have preferred beans and plantain.” That cycle can be exhausting.
But the truth is, I’ve become so spoilt in this marriage. I don’t cook every day, I don’t do laundry, I don’t clean, and I still find myself complaining. Sometimes I feel ungrateful. I think, “Some people will kill for this life.” But I just want a break. I want my husband to look at me one day and say, “You’re the love of my life. Don’t do anything for the next three days. I’ll serve you, massage your feet, just rest.” I don’t want to be the one bringing up eating out or what to cook. I want to be cared for — the way he’s always done — without asking.
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Sometimes I hurt my husband with my words, and I hate it
We had an argument once that made me question if I was cut out for marriage because I said a lot. That’s my problem: When I’m deeply hurt, I go all in with my words, trying to make the other person understand my pain. When their reaction isn’t as strong for me, I keep going; I keep driving home the point to make them see what they’ve done to me. I don’t do this with other people — with them, I choose my words carefully. But with my husband, I keep pushing and talking.
The problem with that is that I end up hurting my husband. The worst part is that he’s such a calm communicator. He never yells or lashes out. But I sometimes say so much that it hurts him, and then I have to apologise. That cycle has made me question if I was even ready for marriage.
It’s not that we don’t communicate well — we both do. But our communication is often laced with emotions. We try to keep things calm and avoid hurting each other, but honestly, the heated emotions are already present when we talk.
Take frustration, for example. I tend to get irritated easily. Sometimes, we’re heading out, and I just want him to open the car door. He needs to press a button for me to open it from my side, but he’ll be on the phone, chatting away, completely distracted.
Meanwhile, I’m just sitting there, waiting for him to press the button. By the time I say, “Please, can you open this door?” I’m already irritated. Then he gets upset, like, “Why’s she talking to me like that?” And suddenly, he’s acting up, and I’m annoyed too—because why is he even angry? Why can’t he just be sensitive to his wife’s needs? Maybe I sound entitled, or my husband spoils me too much.
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I don’t know who I’d be if I lost him
The thought of my husband dying terrifies me. I’m so aware of mortality because of how I grew up. And frankly, I’d rather die than watch him die. I can’t imagine meeting someone new or starting over. He’s done so much for me — and spoilt me so thoroughly — that I don’t know who else could match up.
He rubs my stomach during my periods, ensures I have warm water and socks, and checks that I’m cosy. He fills up my water bottle with cold water every night, reminds me to sleep on time, rest and do my skincare. I hate skincare, and he still makes sure I do it. He shaves me. He tells me I’m beautiful every day. Even when I haven’t made my hair, he gives me money for it and still says I look gorgeous.
I’ve never bought fuel since we got married. I don’t take out the trash. I don’t open the gate. He does everything. I make my own money, but I’m fully dependent on this man. I don’t ever want him to fall sick for just a minute. Where will I start if I ever lose him?
Marriage has grown me into a more confident version of myself
I’ve gained weight since I married, and we haven’t had kids yet. But my husband never makes me feel less than. He tells me I’m beautiful. He encourages me when I go on random diets, even though I never follow through. He builds me up.
Before him, I dated someone who constantly made comments about my body. He wrecked my self-esteem. But now? Even though I’m bigger, I feel more confident. I know my worth, and I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m not deserving of love and respect.
If I could talk to my unmarried self, I’d tell her to stop worrying so much. I used to magnify everything — if he said, “I’ll call you later,” I’d demand to know what time “later” was. If he missed the call, I’d bring it up and ask how he’d keep to his word in marriage.
I took everything seriously because I didn’t want to make a mistake with whoever I married. But I’d tell younger me to chill. He’s human. Mistakes don’t mean he doesn’t love you.
Now I understand him better. When he’s quiet during a disagreement, it’s not pride. It’s that he needs time to think and process. He’s not like me — I’m a force. I’m intense. He needs time to see my perspective. And that’s something I now appreciate deeply.
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Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
Korede (31) and Susan (26) met on Twitter in 2021, and what started as casual TL banter slowly turned into a whirlwind romance neither of them expected.
On this week’s Love Life, they talk about saving themselves for marriage, how their very different relationships with money tested their bond, and why they chose to marry quickly before temptation caught up with them.
What’s your earliest memory of each other?
Korede: My earliest memory of meeting Susan in person was when I first saw her in church in 2021. She was with her sisters and came to say “hi”. Before that, we were Twitter mutuals and had chatted occasionally. We connected easily online because we realised we attended the same church.
I think I sent her a DM asking if she went to my church, and when she confirmed, I said I’d see her in church the next day to say hi.
Susan: We still can’t remember who followed who first on Twitter. But yes, that’s my earliest memory of Korede too — the day he finally slid into my DMs.
Right. So, what was the interaction like when you met in person?
Susan: I knew what to expect since we’d already interacted online. I’d seen his pictures, knew he was this friendly, jumpy person with lots of energy, and he didn’t disappoint. He seemed genuinely happy to meet me in person. Even though our conversation was brief, there was a lot of warmth.
Nice. And what happened next?
Susan: We continued talking online.
Korede: Yeah. It wasn’t a “Oh my God, I need to date this person” situation. We just continued being friends. I’d been talking to her online, now I’d seen her in person, and she was just as cool.
Also, we were dating other people then, so we weren’t even thinking romantically.
At what point did things progress?
Korede: Susan’s relationship ended in 2022. Mine ended shortly after. Once we were both single, we started seeing each other differently.
Curious. What led to the breakups?
Susan: Mine didn’t have the potential to grow into anything solid. It was a lot of “let’s see how it goes”, and I don’t enjoy riding on vibes. But I kept holding on because I didn’t want to hurt the guy.
I eventually realised it was more selfish to hold on and hurt him later. So I ended it.
Korede: My relationship was actually quite serious. But we had different timelines and wanted different things. She wanted something I couldn’t give at the time, which caused a lot of friction. So for everyone’s peace, we ended things. I’d go into the details, but it was a dramatic breakup, and I don’t want to revisit what’s already buried.
Fair enough. Were you both aware of each other’s single status?
Susan: Korede was still dating, so I didn’t tell him I broke up with my partner. He found out during a random conversation.
Korede: My relationship ended a few months after hers. Even before it ended, I already knew it was hanging by a thread. I’d already checked out, so there wasn’t a big emotional crash when it ended.. Throughout that period, Susan and I remained friends. She knew what was going on. I’d talk to her about how I was feeling and how I was hurting.
When my relationship ended, I looked at Susan and thought, “This girl actually has sense.”
That’s when our friendship started to shift. I wasn’t saying, “Let’s date,” but the energy changed. I started paying closer attention. I wanted to really know her and see if her sense was “relationship sense”. So our conversations became more frequent.
Susan: This phase continued until September 2022, when we officially started dating.
Curious, Susan. Were you in the headspace for another relationship at this point?
Susan: You know what? I wasn’t. After my breakup, I stayed away from relationships. I wanted to focus on making money and personal growth. I had a few talking stages but didn’t proceed with any; I just didn’t want to waste my time anymore. If I was going to enter a relationship, it had to be the real deal.
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So, at what point did things change?
Korede: I guess I swept her off her feet.
Susan: Please.
But yeah, it’s hard to say when. I think it happened when our conversations became more frequent. When you keep talking to one person and shut everyone else out… things fall into place. I eventually realised I was always looking forward to talking to him.
Was there anything that made him stand out from the other talking stages?
Susan: I liked that he wasn’t just a churchgoer but also genuinely invested in his relationship with God. He had sense and knew what he wanted, which I found attractive. He was also funny, warm and super caring. It was just hard not to fall for him.
Right. Talk to me about when things became official.
Korede: September 4th, 2022. I can’t ever forget.
Susan: He asked me out on a date, and I said yes. I already knew the question was coming, so after church, we went to the beach — my favourite place in the world — and he asked.
Korede: You know how people say, “When I met you, I knew I’d met my wife”? That’s kind of how it was for me. She had all the qualities I wanted in who I’d want to marry. She wasn’t one of those “give me money” people. Of course, I spend on her, but she wasn’t trying to turn me into an ATM without reciprocating.
Also, she’s very prudent with money. Let’s say she had ₦400k and needed a phone. Instead of saying, “Can you help me add ₦200k to buy a ₦600k phone?”, she’d rather buy a ₦200k phone and keep the remaining ₦200k in savings. I respected that.
And physically, Susan’s really pretty and always smiling. I also fell for her because I smile a lot and I’m fond of cheerful people. When I asked her out, I already knew I wasn’t just asking her on a date — I’d kind of concluded that this relationship would go the distance.
Makes sense. What were the early days of dating like?
Korede: They were sweet. I was constantly posting about us on Twitter. It was the first time I dated someone, and never once thought about breaking up. You know how sometimes you’re in a relationship and wonder if it’s working? I never had that with her. We talked and laughed a lot. We’d go out when we could, but it wasn’t often because it kind of felt like a long-distance relationship; she lived on the outskirts of Lagos. Still, we stayed in touch and enjoyed being in love.
Susan: Butterflies were flying everywhere. They’re calmer now, but the beginning stage was full of so much excitement. He’d send voice notes confessing his feelings, which was sweet. We once talked for four hours on the phone, and I’d never done that with anyone.
Must have been nice. Did you discover anything new about each other?
Korede: One of my biggest discoveries was that the same thing that attracted me to her — her prudence — could also be a problem. She’s very frugal. I could send her ₦50k and say, “Go spoil yourself this weekend,” and find out she locked ₦40k away and spent only ₦10k. That used to annoy me.
I knew she was used to saving, but it started feeling excessive. Even when I wanted to buy her something nice, she sometimes said, “Just send me the money instead.” It made me feel like, what’s the point?
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Why was this the case for you, Susan? Was it a ripple effect of past experiences?
Susan: Growing up as a girl, I constantly heard, “Always have your own money.” I read books, attended seminars, and all of them hammered on savings. I also saw what happened to people who didn’t have emergency funds, and the idea of not having money when you needed it scared me.
So when I had money to spoil myself, I’d think, “This isn’t enough for the big luxury I want. Why waste it on small treats?” I don’t even enjoy food that much, so that kind of ‘spoiling’ didn’t appeal to me.
If he wanted to buy me a fancy bag and I already had bags, I’d be like, “Can we use the money for something more useful?” He believes in enjoying money when it comes. Me? I’m already thinking about savings and the future.
Did you guys ever find a resolution?
Susan: We talked, but nothing really changed. Another thing that upset him was that I never asked for money. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t used to asking anyone for help like that. I’d rather work and earn my own money. If you gift me something, that’s fine. But to ask? No.
Korede: It’s not easy to undo something someone has been used to for years. It was rooted in her upbringing. Imagine having a girlfriend who would rather stress herself finding ways to raise ₦20k than just ask you for it. She’d start calculating: “If I remove ₦10k from here, add ₦5k from there…”
And then I’d find out and go, “I don’t get it. It’s just ₦20k. Why didn’t you ask me?”
I’m curious, Susan. Was this relationship with money just with Korede?
Susan: I hardly ever ask anyone for money. Most times, people just do things for me. It’s rare to hear me say, “Please, can you send me money?” I prefer working for what I have.
Korede: She eventually came up with the perfect excuse: “If I need it, I shouldn’t have to ask. You’re supposed to see the need.” So I started sending her money randomly. I stopped waiting for her to ask. That was the temporary fix that helped us coast for a bit.
Right. Let’s move on. When did you know you’d fallen in love and wanted marriage?
Susan: There was a day I visited him, and he showed me a book he’d written over 100 confessions in — things he wanted to see happen in the lives of his friends, family and future wife. Some had already come true, and he marked them off.
I was shocked. It showed how intentional he was. I also saw how he treated his friends with real care and respect. I thought, if this is how he treats friends, how much more someone he wants to marry?
But I didn’t rush. I prayed. I asked around about him. Feelings can be blinding, so I wanted to know who he really was. Eventually, everything checked out, and heading towards marriage felt natural.
Korede: I knew I wanted to marry her from the first day we met. I don’t know how, but I just knew. And we’re Christians, right? I was madly attracted to her, but I didn’t want us to cross any lines. So I said, “Let’s just marry quickly so we can enjoy each other guilt-free.”
Wait. No intimacy throughout the relationship?
Korede: Not at all. We went out and all, but physical intimacy was off the table. Of course, I wanted to, but I held back. I’d see her and think, “God, I just want to eat this babe.” But I couldn’t.
That’s why I was pushing for early marriage — before temptation dragged me by the neck.
Was there any resistance from Susan?
Korede: Yes. She wanted to have serious money before marriage. I kept telling her, “Let’s just do this thing. The money will come.”
How did you convince her?
Korede: I don’t remember what I said exactly. I just knew I wanted to get married early. Maybe that conviction rubbed off on her. We got married on April 25th, 2024.
Sweet. Was marriage any different from dating?
Susan: Yes, it was. We saw each other only once a week and talked mostly online when we were dating. Now that we live together, we see everything — how I cry when I’m tired, happy, or overwhelmed.
We also realised we do things differently. We both cook but clash in the kitchen, so now we just take turns.
And it’s different when we fight, too. Before, I could end a call or ignore messages. But now, we’re in the same space and he wants to talk it out, while I just want time alone. This took some getting used to. I’d say sorry after an argument and move on, but he’d want to break it down and analyse what happened so we could avoid it in the future.
Korede: It used to annoy me a lot. She wanted me to argue and still be soft at the same time. She expected me to say, “I’m angry but I still love you, babe.” And I’m like, “I’m not a robot. I have feelings too.” She used to think saying “sorry” was enough. But I’m like, “No, let’s talk about what upset me and how we can handle it better next time.”
That was a big one for us.
Susan: There are times I’d cry during an argument and try to explain myself, and he’d be so uncomfortable. I’d have to tell him, “Ignore the tears, just listen to what I’m saying.”
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How do you handle the tears, Korede?
Korede: I’ve had to learn that her crying means different things. Sometimes it means I’ve said something hurtful; other times it’s just how she processes her emotions. I had to learn how to tell the difference and respond accordingly. Sometimes I’d just calm down and say, “Okay, I’m sorry.” Other times, I’d finish my thoughts regardless of her tears, then give her space.
Susan: He also does a lot of reflecting. Sometimes he’ll call me and say, “That thing you mentioned. “I’m working on it. It won’t change overnight, but I’m trying.” That helps me stay calm.
Korede: I try not to repeat the same mistakes. I work on myself and adjust where I can.
Nice. Has the money issue resurfaced in your marriage, and how have you navigated it?
Korede: One of the things I did early on — maybe not the textbook way to do it — was to stop “sending” her money. I just told her, “If you need money, here’s my account. Transfer it yourself.” She has access to my phone, passwords, and everything else. I wanted her to feel like she didn’t have to ask. It made her comfortable with the idea that the money was ours.
Susan: It was hard at first. He’d notice I hadn’t sent anything to myself in a while and still go ahead and send me money, even after saying he wouldn’t. He’d hand me his phone and say, “Take whatever you need.” Even now, I often feel guilty sending large sums. I prefer withdrawing in small batches of ₦50k. I think the highest I’ve transferred to myself is ₦200k.
At once?
Susan: Yes. I’m still learning to be okay with it, but that method really helped. He was trying to help me get over the mindset that I needed permission to access money meant for both of us. So he never answered when I asked, “How much should I take?” He just wanted me to get comfortable using what we had together.
Curious, Susan. How do you manage finances at home, considering you’re naturally a saver?
Susan: It’s still a work in progress. I’m still trying to reduce his meat portions sometimes.
Korede: God, abeg.
Susan: But seriously, I’ve learnt that some things must be spent on. You can’t save everything. He’s helped me see the value in enjoying life too, not just saving for the rainy day.
For example, my husband likes big chicken. So I make sure we have that, even if prices have skyrocketed. We try not to overspend, but we’re also not suffering. He’s a careful spender, so I trust him with money. I just focus on making sure the house has what it needs.
Makes sense. Have guys had a major fight or disagreement yet?
Susan: Not really.
Korede: Even when we argue, we don’t go our separate ways to cool off. I prefer to talk things out immediately.
Susan: However, he once called me “ungrateful.” That one cut deep. I don’t remember what caused the fight, but it had something to do with money. He’d been doing something for me financially, and I said or did something that made him feel like I didn’t appreciate it.
Korede: I didn’t mean it harshly. I just felt like she didn’t realise I was doing these things from a place of love, and it hurt. I used that word, and I think it really triggered her.
Susan: I didn’t talk to him for two days. That word? It shocked me. I’m the kind of person who says thank you constantly — he even teases me for overdoing it. So hearing “ungrateful” from him felt like an attack. And it’s not even like I asked for anything — he was doing it on his own. Then for him to turn around and say that? I was hurt. = I never thought of leaving the relationship.
Korede: Same here. I’ve never questioned our relationship. When we fight, I know it’s something we’ll sort out. We might not talk for a bit, but I’m never thinking, “Did I make the wrong decision?”
How did you guys resolve this, and has that shaped how you communicate your issues?
Korede: I’ve realised she has a separate dictionary in her head during our arguments. I might say something like, “You’re ungrateful,” and in my mind, it’s just how I felt, not necessarily an insult. But she hears something completely different. So now, I’m more careful with my words. Instead of saying, “You’re ungrateful,” I’ll say, “I feel like you didn’t appreciate what I did.” That way, I’m not using heavy words that trigger unnecessary reactions.
Susan: Yeah. That sums it all up.
How has being with each other changed you as individuals?
Susan: I’m still smart and reasonable, but I’m not who I was. The quality of my life has gone up. I used to just say what someone did to hurt me and move on, whether they apologised or not. Now, I sit with my uncomfortable feelings and try to process them instead of shutting down.
Is that just with him or in your other relationships, too?
Susan: Mostly him, but it’s spilled into other personal relationships.
Korede: Being with Susan has helped me understand women better. I used to think she wouldn’t care about gifts or gestures because she prioritised saving, but she did. I’ve realised that even when women say they don’t mind, thoughtful gestures still matter. For example, last Christmas, she wanted a photoshoot. I said we had bills, and she was hurt. I didn’t get it then, but I do now.
My communication has also improved. I prefer in-person interactions—hanging out physically, gisting face-to-face. But she’s pushed me to be better. Now, when the phone rings, I don’t ignore it. I’m slowly getting better at it. However, this doesn’t extend to Susan. She has my attention all the time.
Right. How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1-10 ?
Susan: A 10. I usually wake before him and lie there staring at him while he sleeps. I’m content. What people see outside is sweet, but what we have privately is even sweeter.
Korede: I’ll say 9 out of 10. We’ve only done a year. We still have decades to grow, learn, and evolve together. When we’re 80 and we’ve weathered everything life has to offer, maybe I’ll say 10.
If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.
*Tayo, a 29-year-old father of one, never planned to become a parent so early. He’d barely wrapped up NYSC when his then-girlfriend told him she was pregnant. At the time, he wasn’t emotionally, mentally, or financially ready. He tried to convince her not to keep the pregnancy, but she was firm. “I considered walking away,” he admits. “And I did disappear for the first two months. But something about knowing I had a child out there just wouldn’t let me rest.”
He eventually returned — not to a perfect situation, but to the start of something he would grow into. His son turns five this year, and even though parenting still feels like an uncharted path, Tayo is trying to do better than his parents ever did.
“My childhood was mostly about survival, not love”
Growing up, Tayo’s parents never spared the rod. “They beat us so much, it became hard to separate discipline from outright hatred,” he says. “I remember telling friends in secondary school that I didn’t think my parents liked me. They didn’t act like they did.”
The house was filled with rules, mostly centred on scarcity. “Don’t waste food. Don’t use too much water. Don’t ask for anything.” He internalised it quickly. Instead of calling home for money or provisions in boarding school, he endured punishments from teachers or found ways to trade protection for snacks with younger students. “It just didn’t make sense to ask my parents. It would put them in a bad mood, and I’d still leave empty-handed.”
But in all that coldness, one thing stood out: a brutal kind of honesty. “My dad used to say, ‘I don’t owe you anything. My own parents didn’t do half of what I’ve done.’ Those words stuck with me.” It wasn’t encouraging, but it pushed Tayo to be independent early. “I learned to hustle from secondary school, and that mindset has served me well in adult life.”
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“I won’t beat my child. Ever.”
Tayo painfully admits that the physical abuse from his father felt almost gleeful, like he enjoyed it. His mother’s beatings felt more reactionary than malicious. “My mum? I’m not sure she enjoyed it, but it was her go-to method whenever she wanted something done fast.”
But Tayo knows for sure that he’s not continuing that legacy. “He’s only four, but I’ve already caught myself reaching for the kind of discipline I grew up with. Still, I hold back. I remind myself that he’s just a child. He needs understanding, not pain.”
Discipline for now is limited to stern warnings. No smacks, no canes. “I used to be that neighbourhood uncle kids ran from — cane in hand. But with my son, it’s different. I think, maybe for the first time, I’m seeing what parenting without violence can look like.”
“I want him to ask me for things. That’s new for me.”
Tayo doesn’t remember ever feeling like he could ask his parents for anything. Now, even though he didn’t plan to be a father, he’s committed to making sure his child knows he’s there. “I try to meet his needs. If he wants something and I can’t afford it immediately, I write it down and find a way later. That’s already miles ahead of what I had.”
That freedom to ask — something Tayo never had as a child — is one of the things he’s most proud to offer his son now.
“I don’t owe my child everything. But I care.”
Tayo’s parenting philosophy is rooted in independence. “I won’t coddle my child forever. Once he hits 18, he should be able to make his own way in life. That’s how I survived.”
But unlike his parents, Tayo balances that tough love with presence. “I actually care. My parents didn’t. Even now, if I don’t call or visit them, they’re fine. As long as I’m not disturbing them, they have no issues. But I genuinely care about my son. Yes, I want him to grow up independent, but I also want him to know I’ll be there if he needs help.”
Hyper-independence is something he’s intentionally passing down, but now with a bit more care. “I want him to be strong, but not because I forced him to be. Because he knows he has the tools.”
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“If they saw how I parent, maybe they’d reflect. Maybe not.”
Tayo isn’t sure what his parents would think of the way he’s raising his child. “They’ve only met him twice. I honestly don’t think they care.”
But if they did observe him, he hopes it would make them think. “But maybe—just maybe—seeing how I handle parenting might make them reflect on how they raised me. That’s a stretch, though. I’m not holding my breath.”
For now, he’s focused on doing better, not perfect, just better. “I’m figuring it out as I go, but I know one thing for sure: my child will never question if I care. He might not get everything he wants, but he’ll never doubt that I love him.”
Missing someone you love is a feeling that sneaks up on you. Maybe it’s been a few hours since you last heard her voice, or she’s all the way across the world — sometimes, just sending a simple “I miss you” message to her doesn’t feel like enough.
That’s why we created this list of over 150 “I miss you” messages for the woman you love. These deep love messages for her are perfect for letting her know she’s on your mind. Whether the vibe you’re going for is romantic, funny, apologetic, or just cute, the right words can bring you closer when she’s away.
With this collection, you’ll never run out of the perfect “I miss you” message for her — making sure she always feels loved, no matter the distance.
Short and Sweet “I Miss You” Message For Her
For: Quick, heartfelt notes she can read anytime.
Sometimes you don’t need a long love message to say something meaningful.
These short and sweet “I miss you” messages for her are perfect for sending a quick reminder that she’s on your mind, whether you’re in a meeting, stuck in traffic, or just in your feelings.
I miss your smile, your touch, and your laughter. Come back soon, my dear.
Life is not the same without you. I miss you more than words can say.
Your absence leaves a void that no one else can fill. I miss you, my love.
I can’t wait to be in your arms again. I miss you more with each passing day.
Every day without you feels like an eternity. I miss you so much, my dear.
I miss the way you make me feel complete. Come back soon, my love.
I can’t help but miss you every second we’re apart.
Every moment without you feels like an eternity.
I wish you were here to fill the void in my heart.
Your absence has left a void in my soul that only you can fill.
My heart aches for you, my love.
I long to be by your side, holding you close
Distance means nothing when someone means everything.
I miss your smile, your laugh, your everything.
Thinking of you brings a smile to my face but missing you brings tears to my eyes.
I miss your hugs, your kisses, and your presence. Come back soon, my dear.
Every moment without you feels like a lifetime. I miss you deeply, my love.
I miss the way you make everything better just by being there. Hurry back to me.
Your love and support mean the world to me. I miss you so much.
I miss the way you make everything feel right. Hurry back to me, my love.
Love has a way of turning “I miss you” into poetry. These romantic “missing you” messages for her are for when your chest feels heavy with longing, and all you want is to remind her how deeply she’s loved.
My heart feels like a kite without a string — it just can’t stay grounded without you. I miss you!
The only reason I sleep is that each day is closer to when I can see you again. I miss you my love.
Even my favorite songs sound empty without you to sing them to. Come back soon, my love!
I never knew missing someone could feel this deep. Come back and complete me.
The nights are colder, the days are duller, and my heart longs only for you.
Distance may keep us apart, but nothing can stop me from loving and missing you.
Every heartbeat whispers your name. My soul aches for you more than words can say.
Without you, my world is colorless. I miss the light you bring into my life.
I count the hours until I can see you again. Every moment without you feels empty.
My sweetheart, life feels so empty without you by my side.
You are my heart’s greatest desire, and I miss you with every breath.
Missing you is the hardest part of loving you, my dearest.
Every moment spent away from you feels like a moment wasted.
I miss the way you hold my hand and whisper sweet words in my ear.
My sweetheart, you are my world, and I miss you more than words can say.
I find myself smiling at our memories, but my heart aches without you here.
Distance is cruel because it keeps me away from the one I love the most.
Even in my dreams, I miss you, my love. You are always in my heart.
It’s not easy waking up without you beside me. I miss the morning cuddles, the lazy talks, and the way you smile when you’re still half asleep. I miss everything, babe.
I wish you could see inside my heart and know how much space you take up there. Every beat whispers your name. I miss you, and I’ll never stop.
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Not every I miss you needs to be deep or dramatic. What she needs could be something sweet and playful. These cute “I miss you” messages for her are the digital equivalent of forehead kisses
Even my pillow misses you. It told me to send you a kiss from its fluffiness. I miss you, babe!
You’re my favorite notification on my phone, but I’d rather have you next to me than just hear the ping. Missing you tons!
Every time I see something pink, I think of you. Missing my pink princess!
Your laughter is music to my ears, and I miss our little symphonies. I’m counting down the days until I can hear it again.
You’re like a cupcake; sweet, adorable, and I miss your flavor in my life. Can’t wait to see you!
My days are colourless without your vibrant smile. Missing you so much, my rainbow.
Each time my phone lights up, I hope it’s a message from you. Missing your cute texts and your cuter face!
Even the stars aren’t as bright without you by my side. I miss my little star.
You’re my sunshine on a rainy day, and it’s been pouring since we’ve been apart. Please come back soon!
Every little thing reminds me of you and your adorableness. Missing my sweet girlfriend so much.
My heart does a happy dance every time I think of you, but right now, it’s missing its dance partner.
Every moment apart just reminds me how cute and special you truly are. Miss you, cupcake.
The world seems a little less magical without you in it. Missing my fairy princess every second.
My pillow is mad at you. It says I cuddle it too hard because you’re not here.
Missing you is my full-time hobby, but I’d rather do it with you around.
Are you a magician? Because every time you’re gone, everything feels off.
I miss you more than my phone misses Wi-Fi in the middle of nowhere.
You’re the peanut butter to my jelly, and I miss our sweet combo.
Missing you is like waiting for a reply to my text—painfully slow and very real.
If I had a star for every time I missed you, I’d have a whole galaxy by now.
You’re my favourite notification. Come back and ring my heart again.
When simple texts won’t cut it and you need to pour your entire heart into a message, these are for you.
This list of long and emotional “I miss you” messages for her helps you say everything you need to, especially when you want her to feel every word.
I can’t put into words how much I miss you. It’s like a piece of my soul is missing, and nothing can fill the void. You’ve become such an integral part of my life that being away from you feels like losing a part of myself. I hope you know how deeply you’re loved and missed every second of the day.
Every moment without you feels like a lifetime. I never realized how deeply I relied on your presence until you weren’t around. I miss your smile, your voice, your energy — everything. I just want you back beside me.
It’s not just the big things I miss — it’s the small ones, too. The way you laugh at your own jokes, the way your hand fits in mine, even your random texts during the day. Life feels a little emptier without you.
I can’t pretend it’s easy being apart. My days blur together without the sound of your voice or the comfort of your love. I miss you more than I ever thought was possible, and I just need you to know that.
You took a piece of my heart with you when you left, and now everything feels incomplete. I miss your presence in my world, the warmth you bring, the calm in your words. Come back soon — I need you.
I miss you like the night misses the stars. You lit up my world in a way no one else can, and without you, even the brightest days feel a little dim.
Some days are fine, but most days, I find myself reaching for my phone just to see if you messaged. I miss you in ways words can’t fully express. I miss us.
You’re always on my mind. I try to stay busy, but there’s an ache in my chest that only you can soothe. I miss you more than I ever imagined I could miss someone.
This distance between us has made one thing clear: I can’t go through life without you. Every part of me longs for you, and I count down the days until I see you again.
They say time heals all wounds, but missing you feels like a wound that keeps reopening every time I think about your absence. I love you, and I miss you deeply.
I wish I could bottle up every ‘I miss you’ and send it to you so you’d know how often you cross my mind. This space between us is temporary, but my love for you is forever.
I never knew how quiet my world could be until you weren’t in it. Your laughter, your love, your energy — I crave it all. Come back and make the noise in my heart beautiful again.
Missing you is a constant reminder of how lucky I am to have someone so special in my life. It hurts, but it’s also a testament to how deeply I love you.
Every moment we’re apart feels like a cruel punishment. I miss the way you made even the simplest things feel extraordinary. Life has lost some of its color without you here, and I find myself yearning for the warmth of your presence. I hope the day comes soon when I can hold you close again.
I miss you so much it feels like my heart is carrying the weight of the world. Every memory of you is both a blessing and a curse — it reminds me of the happiness we shared and the pain of not having you here. I hope you know how much you mean to me, even in our time apart.
Missing you isn’t just a feeling; it’s a constant ache in my heart. I miss the way you brought light into my life, and I hope you know that you’re irreplaceable. You are my everything, and I can’t wait to see you again.
The world feels empty without you by my side. I miss your laughter, your touch, and the way you made me feel like I could conquer anything. Life isn’t the same without you, and I long for the day we can be together again.
I thought time would make it easier, but it only makes me miss you more. Every day without you feels like a missed opportunity to tell you how much you mean to me. I hope you’re safe, happy, and thinking of me too, because I can’t stop thinking about you.
I miss you more than words can express. You were my safe haven, my partner, and my best friend. Life feels incomplete without you, and I hope we can find our way back to each other. You’re always in my heart, no matter where we are.
The distance between us is unbearable, but it also reminds me of how much you mean to me. I miss your smile, your voice, and the way you made me feel like the most important person in the world. I can’t wait to see you again.
Being far apart makes missing her even louder. These “I miss you” messages for long-distance relationships will help you bridge the gap and remind her that no matter the distance, she’s always on your mind.
Missing you is my new hobby, but it’s one I desperately want to quit. Can’t wait to see you!
Every day without you feels like a year.
You are always in my thoughts, no matter how far apart we are.
When I close my eyes, I can still feel your touch, that’s how much I miss you.
Every mile between us strengthens my love for you.
My heart aches for your presence every single day.
I’m counting down the days until we’re reunited again.
My favourite girl, I miss your smile and everything about you.
Every mile between us is a mile too many. I miss you more than words can express.
I miss your touch, your smile, and your presence. Hurry back to me, my dear.
Being away from you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I miss you deeply.
No matter the distance, my love for you remains strong. I miss you more than ever.
You should be arrested for making me miss you this much. It’s a crime!
I miss you like a fish misses water, except I’m drowning in thoughts of you.
You know you’re special when even my pillow complains that I hug it too much in your absence.
I miss your lips, your eyes, and everything about you. Especially the way you tease me.
Every time I miss you, I send you a text. So, if you get 100 messages, now you know why.
Each day without you is a reminder of how much I need you. Miss you terribly.
I’m counting the days until I can see your smiles again. Miss you immensely.
Home doesn’t feel like home without you. Miss you more than words can say.
Missing someone hits different when you know you’ve messed up. If you feel guilty and want to make things right, these “I miss you” messages with apology will help you show how sorry you are and how much you still care.
I miss you so much it hurts, and I’m sorry for causing this distance. I wish I could undo everything and just hold you again.
Every moment without you is a reminder of how badly I messed up. I’m truly sorry, and I miss you more than words can explain.
I never meant to hurt you. I miss your smile, your voice, your everything. Please forgive me.
I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness easily, but I hope you can feel how deeply I miss and love you.
Missing you is my punishment, and I accept it. But I also hope it’s not permanent. I’m sorry.
If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. I miss you like crazy, and I’m so sorry.
I hate that I made you feel this way. I miss you so much it keeps me up at night. Please let me fix this.
I may not be perfect, but I’m perfectly in love with you—and I miss you more than ever. Please forgive me.
I miss you and the peace you bring into my life. I’m sorry for disrupting that peace. Let me try again.
Being apart from you has made me realize just how much you mean to me. I’m sorry for not showing it enough before.
I made a mistake. I know that. And I miss you deeply. I’m ready to make things right if you’ll let me.
You have every right to be upset, but I hope you also know how much I miss you and regret what I did.
Every second without you is filled with regret. I’m sorry, and I miss you more than I can bear.
They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes me more aware of how wrong I was. I miss you, and I’m sorry.
I wish I could go back in time and make a better choice. Until then, I’ll just keep missing you and hoping for another chance.
I don’t want to let this mistake be the end of us. I’m sorry, and I miss everything about you.
Even when I messed up, you still made me feel loved. I miss you, and I hope I can give that love back the right way.
You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I miss you more with every breath.
Losing you, even temporarily, is a pain I never want to feel again. I miss you, and I’m truly sorry.
You’ve always meant the world to me, even if I failed to show it. I miss you, I’m sorry, and I’m ready to do better.
Bimbo* (44) always thought she would marry just once in her life, but after her first husband and childhood best friend passed, she found herself remarrying again, and again, and again. Thereby bringing her total marriages to four.
This is Bimbo’s story as told to Itohan
My first marriage was to a man I still consider the love of my life. We were childhood friends, and people always joked that we would one day get married. Then, when I was 21 and he was 23, we eloped. When we returned, our parents were upset because we’d denied them the opportunity to have a huge wedding, but we were happy, and that’s all that mattered.
The two years I had with him were the best of my life, but they were cut short by his death. He was so young and full of life, but God had other plans. I was distraught when I heard the news and even more disappointed by the ways people tried to console me. I was told I was lucky to still be young and without children, so I could easily remarry. Why that was something people felt comfortable saying to my face was beyond me, but it happened regardless.
After his death, I withdrew into myself. He had left everything he owned to me, and I suddenly had more money than a young woman my age should. My dad warned that it would make me a target for young men looking to take advantage, so he arranged for me to marry one of the young men he mentored. I was 25; he was 34. My dad felt the man had a good head on his shoulders. He was not wrong, but I’m a woman who values her freedom and the ability to have fun. I’m a passionate person, and it was the most passionless marriage I’d ever been in. Our sex life was horrible. He used to schedule sex for 8 p.m. twice a week, and it lasted all of 15-20 minutes on a good day. No foreplay, no passion, no pleasure. Just thrusting and ejaculating.
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I remember once asking my dad if he could reduce my husband’s workload so he might have more time for me. That’s when I found out it was my husband constantly picking up extra work and handling business. My dad told me. I realised my father had done it on purpose. He’d always said I was a bit of a wild child, so this marriage was his way to calm me down. Once I realised that, I filed for a divorce. We’d been married for three years, but I knew I couldn’t spend another second in that marriage. One thing my father did get right was the prenuptial agreement. So all I lost was time, and a bit of my sanity. My money remained intact.
I met my third husband at a friend’s 30th birthday party. He was 32 and I was 29, and we hit it off almost immediately. The sexual chemistry was electric, and although I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I enjoyed his company. We travelled to several countries together, tried new cuisines and had fun. For the first time in years, I felt like I had something great going for me. I felt young again. We started dating a few months later, and when I got pregnant, we got married. It was a nice ceremony and I felt absolutely beautiful. It truly felt like one of the happiest moments of my life. My parents, friends and I thought this would be the one that stuck. We were so wrong.
My pregnancy was difficult. I was pregnant with twins, and they stressed me from the beginning to the end. I couldn’t enjoy many of the things I used to. Morning sickness, swollen feet, heartburn, body pains, etc. At one point in my second trimester, I was rushed to the hospital because I was bleeding. Thankfully, the babies and I were fine, but the whole experience took a toll on me physically and mentally. After I gave birth, I thought things would get better, but I was wrong.
The babies were born through a caesarean section and my body did not snap back as fast as I thought it would. I was stuck at home breastfeeding and cleaning up the babies I was miserable. I was battling postpartum depression, I thought about killing myself and my babies so many times, just so it could end. There was a time I found myself screaming at them as they cried. Our nanny found me on the floor, screaming at them my lungs out while the babies lay in their bassinet. In all of this pain and suffering, where was my husband? He was out. Suddenly, he became much busier than ever. I was left alone with the children and the nanny for days. I needed his help and support, but he was nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t pick up my calls or respond to messages. I was deeply hurt.
A year and a few months after I had the twins, I was slowly getting myself back, but I still wasn’t as active or interested in sex and the partying lifestyle I enjoyed. One night, while getting the twins ready for bed, I received a video from a friend. It was of my darling husband in a club, kissing and touching a woman who looked like she was still in university. That was the first time in a long time I thought of ending my life again. I was disappointed. When he came home a week later, I confronted him with the video. He blamed me for no longer being “fun” and said he had needs that had to be met. That night, I packed a few things, took the twins, and left.
The following week, I called my lawyer and filed for a divorce. It was the hardest marriage to dissolve because of the children and how long it had lasted, but with evidence of adultery, the court allowed me to end it. Custody was granted to me, with visitation rights for him, and he paid monthly for our upkeep.
By the time the twins turned seven, I filed for custody to be transferred to their father. I’d gotten a job that required constant international travel, and I didn’t feel I was providing a stable environment for children. Plus, my ex-husband had remarried and they had another child. I believed it was better for the twins to be with them. Luckily for me, the court agreed. At 38, I felt freer than I had in a decade. I decided to start living for myself and enjoying life. I saw my children when work allowed and sometimes took them on trips. Life was good. I was happy, but a bit lonely.
At 39, I decided to get a “sugar baby”. I was rich, I could afford it, and I wanted regular sex. I had always dated older men, I wanted something different. My friend introduced me to someone she knew. He was 30, smart, and the sex was great, and I was enjoying myself. A year or so later, he said he wanted to be in an actual relationship. I agreed. A year after that, he asked me to marry him. And so, at 41, I was getting married again. It was a small courthouse ceremony with a few friends as witnesses. My parents didn’t attend, and honestly, I don’t blame them.
After we got married, he became a househusband. He worked, but I was the breadwinner. He managed the staff and took care of the home. My children liked him, and it was nice to hand over “wife” duties, I’ve never been that type anyway. I was happy and content. That is, until I came home early from one of my trips and found him in the bed with another man. I dropped my bag from my hands, and that’s when they realised I was there.
My “husband” explained that he was a bisexual and the man he was having sex with was his boyfriend of over five years. Apparently, he only got into a relationship with me for money. He and his boyfriend were planning to relocate and start a new life together, but they couldn’t afford it on their own. After listening, I wish I could say I was angry, but I wasn’t.
I understood why they did it, I was just irritated he hadn’t told me from the start. I would have gone along with it from the very beginning. All the sneaking around was unnecessary and disrespectful. He said their end goal was marriage and a new life together. I called my lawyer and asked her to help them with the process. I also donated some money towards it, called it their wedding gift. Then we began the process of ending our marriage.
I’m 44 now, and I’ve officially been married four times. I have another sugar baby, but I’m not interested in having another husband. After reflecting on the life I have lived, I think marriage isn’t for me. Being single isn’t so bad. I love my children and get to spend time with some of my friends in their 40s. Life is good, and I’m content.
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Nigerian weddings are usually a full-blown community affair, complete with family expectations, age-old customs, and plenty of unsolicited opinions. But what happens when young people flip the script and do things their own way?
We spoke to nine Nigerians who are ditching tradition and choosing what feels true to them.
“My mother will walk me down the aisle” — *Precious, 26
Some people dream of the moment their dad walks them down the aisle. For *Precious, that dream has always belonged to her mum.
“My parents separated a long time ago, and since then, my dad has been completely absent. He’s been a deadbeat, and my mum had to step up and play both roles — emotionally, financially and physically too. She raised me and my siblings single-handedly, and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my dad in the past ten years. The last time was at my university convocation. He showed up, acting like a proud father, even though my mother’s sweat funded everything.
Now that I’m in a committed relationship, I’ve been thinking a lot about my wedding day and how I want it to go. I know I can’t exactly stop my dad from attending, but he definitely won’t be the one walking me down the aisle. That honour belongs to my mum. She’s been both mother and father to me in the truest sense of the words.
When I brought it up, she hesitated because “people will talk”, and even suggested one of my uncles could do it instead. But those uncles barely know me. I’ll convince her to do it. The least I can do is let her walk me into the next chapter of my life.”
“I’ll personally refund my bride price” — *Amaka, 28
*Amaka grew up watching her mother endure marriage as a transaction. But the buck stops with her.
“Growing up, I watched my father use the bride price he paid as a weapon against my mother. He constantly reminded her of it, as if it gave him permission to treat her however he pleased. It was degrading, and I swore I would never let that happen to me.
Now, I’m engaged to a genuinely kind man, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve decided that I’ll personally refund my bride price after our wedding. I’ve mentioned it to him before, but we haven’t had a serious conversation yet, especially because our families are both traditional. The items on the list have already added up to ₦400,000 for my introduction alone. I expect the bride price itself will be somewhere between ₦300,000 and ₦500,000. I’m putting money aside for that. It’s a small price for my independence.”
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“My siblings will not attend my wedding” — *Cecile, 24
For *Cecile, peace is more important than appearances. She’s known too much hostility from her half-siblings to pretend it’s all kumbaya on her big day. She shares:
“I’m my parents’ only child together. They both had children before meeting, so I have older half-siblings on both sides. But they’ve never really cared about me; honestly, the feeling is mutual.
What bothers me the most is how my dad’s children talk to my mum. They’ve never liked her, and they don’t hide it. I don’t want that kind of energy around me on one of the most important days of my life. Having all of them in one room feels like setting off an atomic bomb.
I already know my dad won’t be happy about it, but I’ve decided I’ll elope. I’ll have a private ceremony with the love of my life and tell everyone afterwards. It may not be traditional, but I’ll have my peace.”
“I’ll have a virtual wedding on Zoom or Google Meet” — *Yomi, 30
*Yomi’s biggest fear is having all eyes on him on his wedding day, Soo he’s doing it his way: online, low-key and on his terms.
“I have social anxiety and don’t do well in crowded spaces. I’ve always been more of a behind-the-scenes person, and being the centre of attention makes my anxiety spiral. Just imagining myself standing in front of a room full of people on my wedding day makes my chest tighten.
That’s why I’ve decided to have a virtual wedding. Whether it’s Zoom or Google Meet, I want a ceremony that feels safe and comfortable for me. If our families insist on a physical celebration, they can go ahead and organise it. But my partner and I will attend virtually from wherever we are.”
“My best friend is officiating my wedding” — *Chinonso, 32
*Chinonso doesn’t care much for religious clerics who are clueless about his life’s journey. For him, it’s more special to have a friend who’s seen it all pronounce him married. He shares:
“I’m marrying my dream woman in a few months, and I’ve decided I don’t want a pastor at my white wedding. My best friend will officiate it instead. My partner and I aren’t religious, and she fully supports the idea.
The only pushback is from my parents, who believe that without a pastor, the marriage won’t be spiritually recognised. I understand why they’d feel that way, but I honestly don’t care. It’s my wedding, and I want it to reflect my personal values.”
“I’m wearing a tux to my wedding” — *Ella, 29
*Ella doesn’t remember the last time she wore a dress, and her wedding day isn’t going to be an exception.
“Growing up, people always said I acted like a tomboy. I spent years trying to fit into their idea of what a girl should be. But now that I’m older, I no longer care about fitting into anyone’s box. I dress and live how I want.
I have a boyfriend, and we’re planning our wedding. But I honestly can’t remember the last time I wore a dress. I’m not about to start on one of the most important days of my life. I’ll be rocking an expensive tuxedo, and I don’t care if my parents lose their minds. I want to feel like myself on that day.”
“I’ll print out a banner with pictures of my guests” — *Ayana, 26
*Ayana’s not taking chances with gatecrashers. For her, a face-to-face screening is a must at her wedding ceremony.
“I hate how Nigerians feel entitled to crash weddings they weren’t invited to, especially when weddings are so expensive these days. I stopped trusting access cards after my cousin’s wedding. Despite having a strict guest list, the hall was jam-packed. We found out people were sharing their access cards with uninvited guests.
That experience taught me a lesson. For my wedding, I’ll print a large banner with pictures of every guest beside their names. You won’t even get the invite without submitting your picture. On the day, we’ll verify your face before you enter. People laugh when I say this, but I’m serious. I’m not feeding strangers on my big day.”
“I’m skipping all the traditional ceremonies” — Mustapha*, 28
*Mustapha knows what’s expected of him as a Yoruba Muslim son. But after years of feelings boxed in by cultural expectations, he’s calling the shots on his own terms.
“I come from a deeply traditional Yoruba Muslim family, but my fiancée and I are doing things differently. We’ve decided to skip the entire traditional ceremony. No introduction, no engagement, no traditional wedding.
Instead, we’re planning a simple, intimate beach wedding here in Nigeria with just close friends and a few loved ones. Our families have kicked against it and threatened not to show up. Honestly, that’s okay. We’ve made up our minds.”
“My husband and his friends must prostrate to me too” — *Toke, 23
For *Toke, the bride also deserves her own gesture of honour on such an important day.
“You know that tradition where the groom and his friends lie flat on the floor to beg the bride’s family to release her? I must flip that script.
After all the grovelling to my family, my husband and his boys must prostrate to me too. He’s not marrying my people, he’s marrying me. He should beg me to follow him to his house, too. It’s only fair.”
*Mujaheed, 44, is a married pepper miller in Mushin. He thought he found companionship in the arms of a younger herbal mixture hawker. But months into their undefined relationship, he’s slowly realising he may have been played all along.
This is Mujaheed’s story, as told to Adeyinka
I’ve been married for 10 years, but I don’t know if that’s the right word to use anymore. My wife and I live in the same house, but that’s about it. We haven’t had sex in over two years, and we barely talk beyond things about the kids or what’s missing in the house. It’s like we’ve both quietly accepted our marriage is dead, but no one wants to be the one to leave first.
So when I met *Rofia, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I just wanted some warmth and companionship. She hawks herbal mixtures around the market, and she used to pass by my stall while I was grinding pepper. That was how we started talking. She’d stop by, say “hi”, and show me some of her mixtures. Sometimes I’d buy, sometimes I wouldn’t. It was casual. She was friendly and really lively, and this energy reminded me that I could still bag a hot babe.
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Then one day in August last year, she came to my stall with swollen eyes and a face that looked like it hadn’t seen sleep in days. I asked what was wrong, and she said her mum was sick in the village in Ibadan. She had bills to send back home, but hadn’t made enough from hawking that month. I don’t know why, but I felt her pain. Maybe it was how her voice broke when she spoke, or perhaps it was just my soft heart. I gave her ₦30k. That’s three days’ worth of grinding pepper, but I didn’t even think twice.
After that day, she disappeared for two weeks. There was no hawking, no visits, and I even thought she had ghosted me. But then she returned and said she’d travelled to Ibadan to care for her mum. Her mother even called to say thank you. That was the beginning of everything.
We started spending more time together. She’d come to my stall in the evening, and I’d walk her to where she stays. Other times, we’d hang out at pepper soup joints or cheap hotels. There was no “Will you date me?” It just happened. I started sending her money regularly — sometimes ₦5k, sometimes ₦10k, once even ₦50k when she said she wanted to buy a second-hand phone to take clearer pictures of her products.
People say herbal hawkers are promiscuous, but I thought Rofia was different. She was soft-spoken, respectful, and she didn’t dress like some of the other girls who sold sex and libido enhancers.
But then she started doing this thing where she’d go completely off radar for days—sometimes two or even three weeks—no hawking, no visits. I’d call, and she’d say, “Ah, bros, my stomach has been paining me,” or, “One of my sisters needed me.” It started to happen too often.
One day, one of the butchers beside my stall — a talkative guy who sees everything — mentioned he’d seen Rofia at a beer parlour with one of those NURTW guys. I just laughed and said nothing. No one really knew we were together, so he wasn’t trying to shade me. I kept it in my chest.
I didn’t say anything to her that day, but the next time she came around, I asked casually, and she laughed like I was joking. She said he buys herbal drinks sometimes, and that was the only relationship between them. I didn’t press it, but my head was spinning.
About a month later, we went to a small hotel on the other side of town. Nothing fancy, just one of those places where nobody asks questions. But one of the attendants acted funny when she saw Rofia. She was looking at her like they were familiar, even though she didn’t say anything. After we left, I returned the next day, slipped the girl ₦2k, and asked her what was happening. She told me Rofia had come there the previous week with another man.
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I should’ve ended everything then, but I didn’t. Instead, I gave the girl my number and told her to call me the next time Rofia came with someone else.
It happened about three weeks later. I was just leaving the market around 9 p.m. when my phone rang. The hotel girl said Rofia was there again with another man. I couldn’t make it there in time, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what was up.
When I confronted her, she didn’t even act guilty. She looked at me and said, “You never told me you were married. You think you can hide your own secrets and call me out for mine?”
And she was right. I never told her I had a wife. I let her assume I was single or maybe divorced. But that was because I didn’t want to scare her away. I didn’t know she was juggling other men, too. She said, “We’re not in a relationship. You never asked me out. I never agreed to anything.” That hurt because I realised she was telling the truth.
We were never official. It was just vibes, money, and sex. Since then, I’ve stopped expecting anything serious. We still see each other sometimes. She still comes around after hawking, and sometimes we go to the same hotel. The truth is, the sex is crazy, almost addictive. She probably sleeps with other men, but I don’t even argue anymore.
I’ve reduced how much I send her, though. I no longer send her random money like before. If she needs something, she has to say exactly what and why. And even then, I think twice.
Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing. A married man in his forties, sneaking around with a herbal hawker who doesn’t see me the way I see her. But what’s the alternative? Go home to my wife who won’t even touch me? Spend the rest of my life pretending I don’t miss being desired?
At least with Rofia, I feel wanted even if it’s just for an hour or two, even if it comes with betrayal. I don’t know how long this thing will last. I know there’s no future here, but I’m just trying to enjoy the little attention I can get before time completely passes me by.
So yes, I’m still seeing her. I don’t expect anything serious anymore. I know she’s for the streets. But maybe that’s all I can manage right now. Because what else is there?
Atinuke* (32) grew up under the care of her wealthy father, but her childhood was marred by being cut off from her mother, accusations of witchcraft and verbal and physical abuse from her dad.
This is Atinuke’s story as told to Betty
My earliest memories are of me, my older brother and our mum in a little apartment in Ibadan, struggling to make ends meet. My mum’s salary as a secretary could barely cover even our most basic needs, but she did all she could to make it work.
I didn’t meet my dad until I was five. After years of emotionally and physically abusing my mum, he threw her and my older brother out of his house while she was pregnant with me. She built a small but stable life for us in Ibadan, doing a great job for almost five years. Then, in 1998, my dad decided he wanted his children back.
I’m still not sure what made him change his mind. I remember my mum telling me how she took me to his house when I was born, and he didn’t even bother to come outside to look at me. He also hadn’t made any attempt to find us in the five years that followed. Still, after intense pressure from both her family and his, my mum gave us up. Everyone believed my father’s wealth would offer us a better life. Looking back, nothing could have been further from the truth.
I remember the drive into his massive house in Ibadan, the compound lined with big trees, a wide lawn and two dogs — but we didn’t spend a single night there for months. Before we left, my mum packed some of my favourite clothes and toys to take with me. But as soon as we arrived, my father burned everything we’d brought from her home.
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That was the first of many traumatic experiences. My dad was convinced that my mum had used witchcraft to set traps for him, using us as the conduit. So for the first six months after we arrived, we didn’t go to school. He took us to a parish of the Cele church he attended and made us live there, hoping the prayers and holiness of the place would chase out any evil spirits in us. He would leave for work but always came back to sleep with us on the church floor. He would bring us new clothes when he came to see us, but we were constantly being prayed over and watched closely.
My brother was born with a clubfoot, which my dad saw as another manifestation of my mother’s supposed witchcraft. Although it could have been easily fixed with a surgery he could afford, the parish prophet claimed to have a vision of my brother dying on the operating table, so it was never resolved. This led to my brother being shamed and ostracised by other children as we grew up. I found myself subconsciously trying to compensate: I would purposely fail in school so that my brother could shine as “the bright child.” but this only created another source of tension between my dad and me.
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My father was a man of contradictions. When we finally moved from the church into the house, he kept it stocked so we were never hungry and sent us to quality schools. But the tradeoff was that he had no patience or softness. He was very hard on us, yelling or hitting us at the slightest provocation. I’ve blocked out a lot of the bad memories, but I remember shaking with fear every time he helped me with a school assignment because I knew I would get slapped multiple times. He was also generous with verbal insults, calling us everything from useless to stupid.
At some point in 1999, my dad got transferred from Ibadan to Lagos for work, but he was reluctant to have anyone watch over us in his absence. So, for about three months, we woke up very early each morning to travel from Ibadan to Lagos. My father would then drop us at school in Yaba, head to work in Ikeja, and then we’d make the long trip back to Ibadan in the evening. It eventually became clear that this wasn’t sustainable, so we moved in with one of his friends at the Yaba barracks for eight months.
We weren’t allowed to talk about my mum, and we had no way to contact her, so I was naturally drawn to the mother of the family that took us in. I saw her as my mum and treated her as such. One day, she bought a bale of second-hand clothes to share with the children of the house. Her biological kids got a new wardrobe, while my brother and I got two items of clothing each. The way she shared the clothes made it clear we weren’t her kids, and that shattered the “mother” pedestal I had put her on. I knew in my heart that my mother would never treat me like that.
During one of my dad’s visits, I told him about this and he quietly took us from that family and moved us to Lagos. It turned out that he had been paying the family a big sum to house, feed and clothe us, but the woman took most of the money and spent it on her kids.
In 2000, my father began allowing strict, supervised visits from my mum. This went on for a very short time. She wasn’t allowed to visit us at home so we would meet at the Lagos Country Club. We also weren’t allowed to talk to her. We were supposed to sit quietly so she could see we were doing well. I never listened. I missed her so much that I was always talking to her and telling her what was happening in our lives. Each time, when we got home, my father would beat me for talking to her.
The visits stopped that year when my dad started dating Yetty *, a woman who attended our Cele parish. With no cell phones at the time, we were once again completely cut off from my mum. Yetty was kind to me at first, but became increasingly wicked as she struggled to conceive for my dad. She believed I had witchcraft powers, which I was using to stop her from getting pregnant. She raised this issue so many times that my dad made me undergo multiple deliverance sessions.
These sessions were uniquely traumatic. They would whip me with brooms for hours and make me shower with a mix of salty ocean water, perfume and holy water. The mixture would run into the welts and wounds caused by the brooms and sting for hours. I was in an incredible amount of pain for weeks because these deliverance sessions were held several times back to back. I finally got some respite when Yetty got pregnant in 2006, but I was still treated like I had evil powers. It made me act out in school, and I took my studies even less seriously while my brother outclassed his mates.
Like his previous relationship, my dad eventually became physically and verbally abusive to Yetty and my step sister, and they moved out of our house in 2008. When I was 15, I began to rebel and act out as a way to get back at my dad. My teachers noticed and decided I was a girl who needed her mum. They somehow found a way to contact her even though my father had threatened to raise hell if that ever happened.
Reconnecting with my mum soothed something in me. It was great to finally speak to someone who didn’t think I was an evil witch or useless. She got me a small phone I used to stay in contact with her till I wrote and passed my final secondary school exams.
Unfortunately, we lost touch again for a year after I finished secondary school. This was because my dad took everything away from me to put me through another traumatic round of deliverance sessions. I was so depressed and hopeless till I realised the only way I could escape his clutches was to go to school.
I missed JAMB the year I graduated because of the deliverance sessions, so I sat for the exam the following year. But that time, I failed it on purpose; something I never told anyone. Although my brother had graduated at the top of his class with an outstanding WAEC result, his JAMB scores were withheld three years in a row.
I couldn’t bear the thought of passing and ending up in the same class as him. I still carried guilt over his disability, and academics were the one thing he had that set him apart. So, in 2011, I deliberately wrote wrong answers and failed, while my brother passed and went on to study computer science.
In 2012, I managed to get my hands on another small phone and reconnected with my mum. She helped me pull through that awful year with a lot of kindness and encouragement. With Yetty gone and brother in school, I was facing the full brunt of my dad’s unpredictable anger and constant beration. My mum would call me every day — calls I had to take in secret— and encourage me to study. She would reassure me of my intelligence and her belief in me. It really helped me push through. I studied as hard as I could, passed my JAMB and got in for my dream course: pharmacy.
By that time, my father had retired and squandered his retirement money on businesses that didn’t pan out. This made funding my degree very difficult because my father was unwilling to help with the little he had left. My mother stepped up, combining her efforts with mine to see me through school. It was a tough journey, taking odd jobs, interning and studying at the same time, but having my mum back in my life kept me going through my darkest hours.
You might think your job is just “stressful,” but there’s a thin line between character building and outright toxic behaviour. Beyond the long hours and bad bosses, there’s a deeper issue: how toxic work environments mess with your relationships, both at home and at work.
We spoke to Sarah Oyefeso, an organisational psychologist, who broke down exactly why it happens and what to do about it.
What makes a workplace toxic?
“At its core, it’s any environment where your emotional safety is consistently undermined,” Sarah tells Zikoko. “This could look like poor leadership, constant micromanagement, favouritism, harassment, unrealistic expectations, or just persistent disrespect. Once your work stress starts to spill into how you relate with others, that’s your sign.”
So, what should you look out for before accepting a job?
Sarah says the signs are usually there.
If they’re overly eager to hire you without due process, that’s a red flag. If they’re constantly hiring, ask yourself why people keep leaving. Pay attention to the vibe during the interview, too. If the interviewer is too casual or dismissive, chances are you won’t be taken seriously on the job either. Also, observe the current employees. They might not complain, but observe their mannerisms. And if you can, find someone who’s worked there before — ask about their experience and why they left. That alone can save you.
6 Nigerians Share How Toxic Jobs Changed Their Lives
To understand just how bad it can get, we asked six Nigerians about the toxic jobs that pushed them to the brink.
“I became deeply anxious and withdrawn. I barely spoke at home” — *Dan, 24
*Dan learned that even being around loved ones can feel like a chore when you’re deeply burnt out. He shares:
“I joined a digital marketing agency in 2024. On my first day, I greeted the managing director, Ronke, and she ignored me. I brushed it off, thinking she was having a bad day. I didn’t realise that was just who she was.
She constantly picked on me for little mistakes. I understand corrections are part of the job, but she humiliated me in front of the whole office. Once, just two weeks after I joined, the network was down and I couldn’t complete a task. I let her know, but instead of understanding, she scheduled an all-hands meeting and used it to insult me for an hour. I cried. I even got a query from HR that started with, ‘I believe you don’t have sense.’
After less than two months, I resigned. But the damage was done. I became deeply anxious and withdrawn. I barely spoke at home because I couldn’t even find the words to explain what I was going through. My relationship with my mum and brothers became strained. I used to be bubbly, but I had no energy left after work.”
Sarah’s take: “When you’re constantly anxious at work, your nervous system doesn’t just switch off when you clock out. That stress follows you home. You might withdraw, snap at people or stop communicating because you’re emotionally drained. Don’t assume your partner or family will automatically understand — overshare the mundane details of your days. Keeping them in the loop helps them show up for you.”
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“The same fear I felt walking into the office follows me everywhere” — *Faith, 25
Faith’s job didn’t just take her peace; it changed how she felt in every other space, too. She shares:
“I worked at a fintech where my manager, Tayo, was desperate to please our supervisor. So he started sabotaging me.
Once, I tweeted about enjoying remote work. Tayo messaged me privately about it, and we had a casual chat. Next thing, the supervisor called to insult me. Turns out Tayo had twisted my words.
He began taking my big leads and assigning me accounts that barely brought in commission. I became so guarded that I stopped collaborating and withdrew from even my friends. I still find it hard to go to church or talk to people. It’s like I’m permanently scared.”
Sarah’s take: “What Faith is going through is workplace-induced trauma. It causes anxiety that affects your confidence in relationships and stops you from reaching out in familiar spaces.
Reclaim your safe spaces, even if it’s just with one trusted person. And be gentle with yourself, healing from a job shouldn’t be your responsibility, but sadly, it is.
“I constantly lashed out at the people who loved me” — *Jachima, 23
Toxic workplaces don’t just stress you, they erase your sense of self. That was precisely *Jachinma’s reality.
“Working in that space really changed me. From day one, I felt unsafe. A senior colleague saw my pink bag and said, ‘Is pink your favourite colour? That’s the colour of my favourite part of a woman.’
The sexual and degrading comments targeted at women kept coming, and HR never did anything.
I once came in sick and asked to go home, but they refused. Meanwhile, my manager strolled in at 10 a.m. and left before 2 p.m. I ended up leaving around 4 p.m. because I was losing feeling in my leg. The next morning, I got a query.
It got to a point where I was crying on the way to work. I had panic attacks and snapped at my family and friends all the time. I hated who I was becoming.”
Sarah’s take: “Toxic workplaces can trigger anxiety, depression, and even suicidal thoughts. When you’re constantly berated, your body starts to absorb that message. You feel trapped, and that hopelessness can spiral into panic attacks, exhaustion, or depression. Like in *Jachinma’s case, you may even lash out at people who love you. Once you begin to lose your sense of self, it’s time to prioritise an exit plan.
A Human Resource Person is supposed to protect employees, but in many Nigerian workplaces, HR simply echoes management. If HR enables abusers or becomes one itself, that’s not just a toxic culture; it’s dangerous.
“I was suspended from work for three weeks without pay, amidst my struggles” — *Aisha, 26
Toxic workplaces don’t just steal your joy; they can crush your self-worth and convince you that you’re not worthy of compassion. *Aisha can relate:
“I worked at a logistics company during NYSC. They didn’t pay salaries for three months, and I had to survive on ₦33k, which barely covered rent, food or transport.
One day, I told my manager I couldn’t afford to come in because I didn’t have money. The next morning, I got a query — on the general group chat — where he called me lazy and unserious.
It hurt me because I expected him to understand.. Instead, he suspended me for three weeks.
There was never any explanation or apology about the withheld salaries. Over time, I started withdrawing from everyone, even people who cared about me. I felt like I wasn’t enough.
Sarah’s take: “If, like *Aisha, you’re stuck in a toxic job, detach emotionally. Find something that’s yours —a personal goal, hobby, anything that gives you joy outside work. It’ll give you perspective. Also, lean on friends and family who love and affirm you. Their support will help protect your self-worth until you can walk away.”
“My blood pressure shot up” — *Hameed, 29
Beyond your mind, toxicity from work also affects your body and physical health. *Hameed shares:
“I had a managerial role at a food company, but instead of feeling empowered, I was always on edge. Whenever a staff member made a mistake, my superior threw me under the bus because he wanted to be in the CEO’s good books. Even when staff made mistakes, I paid the price. If funds went missing, they’d deduct it from my salary.
I was so anxious I couldn’t sleep. My blood pressure shot up. I was constantly sick and snapping at my fiancée, who didn’t understand what was happening to me. Truth is, I didn’t understand either.
Sarah’s take: A lot of people underestimate how physically the symptoms of stress and toxicity from work manifest. It can show up as headaches, high blood pressure, and insomnia. And even if you don’t ‘look’ stressed, that doesn’t mean it’s not real. Everyone reacts differently, even in the same environment.
“I began to question myself and my skills as an artist” — *Peter, 24
*Peter’s job didn’t just drain him. It made him doubt his competence and talent. He shares:
“My boss got me the job, so I felt indebted. But the way he spoke to me?Always condescending.
He’d give feedback in ways that made me feel stupid. Other colleagues noticed, so it wasn’t just in my head. But I couldn’t report him. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or cause problems.
Over time, I lost confidence. I began to question myself and my skills as an artist. Things I used to feel confident about suddenly seemed basic in my own eyes.”
Sarah’s take: It’s tough when your boss is also your helper, but silence only enables abuse. If they treat you poorly, you’re likely out of favour. If you can’t talk to them about how you feel, quietly plan your exit. In the meantime, seek feedback and encouragement from people outside that space who can affirm your work.
The bottom line
You spend most of your life at work. It shouldn’t leave you sick and anxious, or affect your relationships. If your job is stealing your joy, then it’s time to leave. You deserve a space that values you and lets your relationships thrive.
And to companies creating these environments? Free lunch and branded T-shirts aren’t culture. Culture is how staff are treated on a random Thursday morning.
