Quizzes

Stacks

Shows

Podcasts

Newsletters

Naira Life

Love Life

Hustleprint

Love Currency

Sunken Ships

What She Said

My Bro

So You Don’t Have To

Interview With…

Zikoko Memes

Jollof Road

Cholera Outbreak Update

Follow our socials

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Dayo: My cousin and I were sitting outside our house one evening in 2012 when I first came across her handle on Twitter. The private university banter was trending then; that was how I knew she attended Covenant University. We became TL buddies very quickly, and because Twitter didn’t have DMs at the time, that was the closest we were. Even when the DM feature became available, we still moved to Yahoo Messenger.

    Tinuke: I’d say my earliest memory of Dayo was in 2014 when we started chatting in the DM. Yes, we were somehow cordial on the TL, but I didn’t really pay any attention to him until we started chatting in the DMs, and it took two years for that to happen.

    What was the TL banter like?

    Dayo: She was pretty friendly. I’ve had bad experiences talking with ladies on the TL, but Tinu was different. She’d reply to me as soon as I tweeted at her. She was unlike other people who ignored or insulted me. And since everything was on the TL, it was always so embarrassing. Once, I tried to edit someone’s tweet and reply with something funny, and I got the insult of my life.

    Tinuke: He was actually funny and full of positive energy whenever we interacted on the TL. 

    Dayo: Thinking about it now, she’s right — we didn’t start talking properly until 2014 when the DM feature became available. 

    I’m curious. How did that first DM conversation go?

    Tinuke: He asked for my email address. I was in school then, and we weren’t allowed to use phones. But we could communicate via Yahoo Messenger.

    Dayo: I don’t remember the details, but I know the interaction was short-lived. We also didn’t have a lot in common then. I was just a teenager attracted to a pretty girl. 

    What about Yahoo Messenger? Was it any different?

    Tinuke: I really don’t remember us chatting on Yahoo Messenger.

    Dayo: The truth is, I tried to reach out many times, but I was fighting a losing battle with my 3G network.

    Mad. So, when did things progress between you two?

    Tinuke: Our communication became more consistent for a while in 2014, and I got to know more about him. I think it was at this point that we developed some level of friendship.

    Dayo: I agree. We got really close between 2014 and  2015 because of our frequent communication. I was in school at the time, and I would tell her about my insecurities and fear about failure in the future. But Tinu is a big-time believer and would drop aspire to maguire type motivation for me. Her words really helped me, and they were part of what fuelled my passion for my current career path. She would also tell me about her work and relationship issues, and I would console her.

    [ad]

    How did you feel about her relationship status, Dayo?

    Dayo: I enjoyed our friendship and didn’t try to change the dynamic. Plus, it felt like we were in a relationship because we had funny pet names and would occasionally flirt on the TL. But that was about it. 

    Tinuke: Yes. It was all jokes from my end.

    Did you friendzone him because you were dating?

    Tinuke: Not really. I never knew about his feelings because he never told me anything. So  I innocently saw him as a friend the entire time. 

    Right. So what happened next?

    Dayo: We stopped communicating around 2015 when I took a long break from Twitter to focus on school and my career.

    Tinuke: I didn’t know why the communication fizzled out. I just knew he would pop in once every two years to say “Hi” and go off again.

    Dayo: Even while I was away from Twitter she always crossed my mind, and whenever she did, I popped in to say “hi” and went off again. Our TL chitchat stopped, the DMs became shorter, and we lost contact for a long time because she changed her handle. 

    Tinu: Dayo also sent his once-in-a-blue-moon messages with a changed handle every time. He changed his handles so much that I forgot about him.

    Dayo: I didn’t find her account until 2023. 

    Curious. Did you both pursue other romantic interests during this hiatus?

    Dayo: For the longest time, I didn’t. I was more concerned with focusing on school. I noticed some other people, but it didn’t amount to anything serious. However, I was in a relationship around 2023 when I found Tinuke again.

    Tinuke: I got into a relationship in 2015, and at around the same time, my communication with Dayo took a nosedive. But I was already single again by the time we reunited in 2023.

    Right. Talk to me about the reunion

    Dayo: Well, in 2023, I got tired of Lagos and needed to change my environment. But I didn’t decide until June 2024, because I was in a short-lived relationship that eventually ended in August because of genotype issues. I had no idea Tinu was also in Ibadan because I’ve always known her to be a Lagos babe. When we reconnected and spoke, I found out she had relocated to Ibadan for work. I was genuinely happy about her progress and all. I also asked about her husband and kid, because we didn’t communicate for so long and I assumed she was already taken. However, she said she wasn’t even in a relationship, let alone married with a child. After hearing that, I really wanted us to hang out for the first time since 2012 when our paths first crossed. But our meeting didn’t happen until October 2024, and I specifically told her I wanted to marry her on that day.

    Tinuke: I moved to Ibadan from Lagos a few years ago and had no idea he was following me on Snapchat. Every now and then, he’d drop random comments on my posts, and I’d acknowledge them, but I couldn’t quite place who he was. Eventually, his face clicked, and I remembered him from Twitter. The first time I properly responded to him on Snapchat, I called him by the wrong name. He corrected me, and I had to admit I didn’t remember him. He laughed, reintroduced himself, and from there, we started talking again. That’s when I found out he had also moved to Ibadan.

    At the time, I didn’t have many friends in the city, and the few family members I had, I barely saw. So when he suggested we meet up, it felt like a good idea. I figured I’d have someone to explore Ibadan with. I wasn’t thinking too much about it; I was just excited to finally meet someone I hadn’t seen in 12 years.

    How did you feel about his marriage proposal, Tinuke?

    Tinuke: I thought he was joking and simply laughed it off. 

    Dayo: The truth is, it wasn’t the first time I’d confessed my feelings. I did that on Snapchat before, but I was even more determined to ask for her hand in marriage when we met in person. Over the years, the age difference between us had stalled me from taking action—I wasn’t confident enough. I also didn’t know her exact age, but I knew she was older, especially because she was in her final year when we started talking. However, enough time had passed to build my confidence.

    Right

    Tinuke: Anyway, the conversation ended there. I was flattered, but that was about it. It didn’t move me; I thought it was the usual tactical move by men.

    Was the age difference ever a problem, though?

    Tinuke: It was something I eventually had to think about and seek counsel on when I figured he was serious about his proposal. We had more conversations after that meetup in October, and I told him to give me some time to think. I spoke to some trusted people in my circle, and they made me see the reason it wasn’t a big deal. But I was still bothered, especially about what our families would think of our dynamics. I didn’t want to involve myself in any such drama. But after a lot more counseling, I realised that it wasn’t that bad. Maybe it would have been when we started talking in 2012–I definitely would have said NO because we were both inexperienced. But for our age,29 and 31, as of 2024, I felt it was fine. And aside from the age, I was comfortable with his personality and level of maturity. We were on the same page on most things, and all these factors made me confident in my choice.

    Nice. Was this when you started dating?

    Dayo: Dating? I won’t call it dating because I almost immediately started talking about meeting her parents and picking a date for our marriage. But yes, we started spending more time together. We would visit Agodi Gardens from time to time, enjoying each other’s company over suya and soft drinks. We’d talk about what we wanted in a marriage and other important matters. All of these times spent together allowed me to get to know her more and further confirmed my standpoint: she was the right woman for me.

    Tinuke: He was waiting for my “yes” this entire period, but we hung out every other weekend. We even started using the same workspace just to spend time together. Low-key, I was waiting for his energy to drop after two weeks or a month, but that never happened.

    Apart from the age difference, was there any other reason to stall?

    Tinuke: I just wanted to be sure I wanted this as much as he did. And he finally got his answer on November 9, 2024–to be his girlfriend and wife. 

    Sweet. Dayo, you mentioned earlier that you were in a short-lived relationship that ended in August. Do you think you sat with your feelings long enough to know this wasn’t a rebound? 

    Dayo: I’d say my journey with Tinuke is beyond the natural. In my natural self, I’d have pushed for a regular relationship…you know, one that goes through the entire “getting-to-know-you ” and proper dating phase. However, I felt a strong conviction within me that this was meant to be. That’s why I never asked to date her and instead pushed for marriage. 

    Tinuke: I knew he had just gotten out of a relationship but didn’t know how much time had passed between his breakup and when he asked me out. However, I didn’t want to linger in the past, especially because I knew why they broke up. I didn’t want our relationship to start with discussing exes and past relationships. Again, because it was a genotype-related issue, Dayo seemed to have moved on, and I didn’t want to dwell on it or make it seem like I doubted his feelings for me. I also didn’t want him to feel forced to talk about past issues. There was a free flow of communication between us, and I picked what I needed from those exchanges. Eventually, I was convinced we’d both put in effort to keep our relationship clean and shut down old doors before we started our journey.

    Neat. How did your families react to you talking about marriage barely six weeks after reconnecting?

    Tinuke: My family didn’t bother asking how long we’d been together before deciding to get married.

    Dayo: My dad was confused because one minute, I wanted someone, and the next,  I wanted yet another person. He kept asking if I knew what I wanted. My mum, on the other hand, was only concerned about the genotype. Even after I told her Tinu was AA, she insisted I get tested myself because the last person also claimed to be AA. But at the same time, she also didn’t take me seriously until I showed up in December and informed her I was going to meet Tinu’s parents. She and my dad realised I was serious, and they went into their ‘African prayer warrior’ mode. Eventually, they prayed about it and said Tinu was good for me, and she eventually met them in January. 

    Nice. How would you describe the last four months of your relationship?

    Tinu: It’s been quite the ride. It almost feels as though we’ve been dating for years. I’ve dated other people, and being with Dayo has been a very refreshing experience for me. I used to be a believer in dating for a long time, gradually getting to know and adjusting to each other. I always believed this process should take time,  but it’s quite spontaneous with Dayo. I find myself doing things without being cajoled. However, I’ll also say it has taken a lot of intentionality to be attuned to each other’s needs. But he has it all so easy; this man worships the ground I walk on. He loves and cares for me, pays so much attention to my needs, even down to the colour of my favourite jewellery. I feel seen in this relationship, and I feel at peace.

    Dayo: I’d say the life I was living before has been completely different from the last four months. I’m someone who used to live life on my terms, but that has changed since having Tinu in my life. She’s a mindful and super caring person. I’ve seen her treat others with so much kindness, and this is something I continue to learn from her. She’s constantly tipping when we step out, and I’ve learned to be intentional about giving through her. Also, everything she does for strangers, she does for me as well. Overall, I’ve just become a better person because of her. 

    Tinu: And on February 14, he popped the question properly and asked me to marry him in the presence of my best friends. 

    Sweet. Have you guys had a major fight yet?

    Tinu: Not really fights, but we’ve had moments of disagreement. However, we have this unspoken rule “the quarrel has to die that same day; it can’t be carried over.” So, we always have to talk about our issues as quickly as possible. But I’m also not one who wants to address issues immediately; sometimes, I want to take time in and process things first. I’ve found that I can snap sometimes, and Dayo is a soft boy, I always put it at the back of my mind to be as gentle as possible so I don’t hurt him. 

    Dayo: I agree. We’ve not really had fights, but I’ll say she’s quite blunt. However, there are times when she wants to take her time to process things before reacting; meanwhile, I want to address issues as they come up because I find it hard to function knowing I’m not cool with my person. But like she said, we now have an unspoken rule of resolving issues on the same day they come up, and it helps our relationship. 

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

    Tinu: 10, it’s perfect. Not because there won’t be challenges ahead, but because we are intentional about going through them together as one.

    Dayo: It’s also a 10 for me. It doesn’t feel like a burden, and I love that for us.

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

  • Love Autopsy is a Zikoko series that dissects relationships after they’ve ended. In each episode, someone fresh out of a relationship sits down with a licensed relationship expert to unpack what went wrong, what could have been better, and the lessons they’re walking away with.

    TW: Domestic abuse

    *Dolapo, 34, an Ekiti-based civil servant, thought she had found the one in *Toba, 41, when they met in 2015 through an Egbon Adugbo.

    A year later, they were engaged, and everything was perfect. His friends had only good things to say about him, and Dolapo felt secure knowing she was with someone so beloved.

    “He was everything I wanted in a partner,” she says. “Kind, quiet, attentive, and always there when I needed him.”

    Then the shift happened.

    The mood swings came first. It was jarring, but she brushed it off.

     “I’d say good morning, and he’d snap, ‘Did I ask you to greet me?’”

    Then the silent treatment followed, often lasting for weeks. The man who had once been Dolapo’s safe space became emotionally unavailable to a point of hostility.

    In 2024, as their divorce was being finalised, Toba told her it was all her fault.

    “He said he got tired of me because I allowed his excesses,” Dolapo says. “He said I should have stood up to him, fought him harder or reported him to our families. He argued that I didn’t handle him the way he needed to be handled.”

    Dolapo is recounting over Google Meet, her expression a mix of frustration and reflection. Comfort Omovre, who’s been a relationship counsellor for over three years, is also on the call. She listens carefully before responding. “That’s something I hear a lot. Abusers often blame their victims for the mistreatment. But it’s never your fault. A relationship shouldn’t be a battleground where you have to fight to be treated right.”

    Dolapo nods in agreement. “I know that now. If someone tried that nonsense with me today, I’d walk away immediately.”

    She continues. “And I noticed the red flags early. He was financially irresponsible and couldn’t account for his earnings, even though he demanded financial transparency from me. Then there was the emotional, financial, and even sexual abuse.”

    “He would ghost me for months,” Dolapo recounts. “One time, he disappeared for eight months. Then he called like nothing happened, expecting me to show up — and I always did.”

    “Did you talk to anyone about what was happening?” Comfort asks.

    “No,” Dolapo admits. “I shielded him. I lied to my family about his whereabouts, made excuses for him, and painted a perfect picture when they asked. I convinced myself we were still connected, so I kept holding on.”

    “Now that you mention it, there’s one incident I should share,” Dolapo says.

    She was pregnant again. Then she had another miscarriage and needed an evacuation. Toba had promised to be there but he wasn’t. She waited for hours, calling him repeatedly.

    Desperate, she called his mother, sobbing. Within 40 minutes, he finally arrived — but instead of apologising, he snapped, “What right do you have to call my mum and embarrass me?”

    Comfort listens carefully. “Dolapo, I need you to know that everything you’ve described is abuse. This was never about love. It was about power and control. And I hope you can see how much strength it took for you to walk away.”

    It took Dolapo three years and some help to find that strength; it wasn’t until 2021 that she realised the scale of her situation. “I found a post from a relationship therapist on Twitter talking about narcissistic abuse, and everything she described sounded like my relationship,” Dolapo says. “That was the wake-up call I needed. I filed for divorce in 2022.”

    Toba didn’t take this move well. “He called my family members, crying and begging them to talk to me. People who had no idea what I’d been through suddenly became involved, asking me to reconsider. But I was done.”

    Then he switched his tactics.

    “He told me he was ready to change — he’d start therapy, we’d try IVF, we’d start a family. He even booked a marriage counseling session and asked me to come to Lagos. I wanted to believe him, so I travelled to Lagos.

    I spent three days alone in an empty house, waiting for a man who’d never truly been there. That was the moment I knew there was nothing left to save.”

    “And now?” Comfort asks gently.

    “We finalised the divorce in December 2024,” Dolapo reveals.

    When Dolapo decided to start the divorce process, she knew there was only one way to break free: using the element of surprise, not giving room for his manipulations.

    “I didn’t tell him when I filed for divorce,” Dolapo says. “I sent the papers to his family’s home. He was furious and got a lawyer to fight me. But I didn’t care anymore. I was done.”

    “Now that your divorce has been finalised, how have you been processing everything?” Comfort jumps in.

    “It’s been hard,” Dolapo admits. “On some days, I feel fine. Other days, I wake up crying, wondering why I wasted so many years. But I also prepared for the worst. I bought pepper spray and a taser because I knew Toba could show up at any time.”

    ALSO READ: 4 People Tell Us About The Red Flag That Made Them End Their Relationships

    Dolapo contemplates for a second before she continues. “My aunt tried to help me leave after he beat me so badly I was hospitalised for a month, but I stayed. I told myself I loved him, but I think I was just scared to be alone.”

    “Many survivors struggle with guilt,” Comfort says. “What matters is that you finally left. You saw the truth, made a decision, and took your power back. It takes immense strength to do that.”

    Dolapo sighs. “I hope so. I just wish I had done it sooner.”

    “Healing isn’t linear,” Comfort reassures her. “But you’re already on the right path.”

    Dolapo nods. “I’ve blocked him everywhere, but he has six different numbers. Every few months, he tries again — birthday messages, Christmas wishes, empty apologies.”

    “That’s called hoovering,” Comfort explains. “It’s a classic abuser tactic: love-bombing, guilt-tripping, then insults when they don’t get their way. Have you noticed the shift?”

    Dolapo exhales. “Exactly. After months of begging, he flipped. He called me a lowlife, mocked my job, and swore I’d die in Ekiti.”

    At first, Toba’s words stung, making her question her worth. But then she reminded herself — he didn’t send her to school, raise her, or contribute to her education. Her family had never relied on him financially. So why should he have the power to define her?

    But his messages escalated. “I will come for you,” he threatened. “You think you can just leave me? You think you can disrespect me like this?”

    “That was when I knew I had to protect myself,” she says. “I signed up for kickboxing classes. I told his best friend to let him know that I had already reported him to the police. I forwarded all his messages to my lawyer, my dad, and my brother. I wanted him to know that if anything happened to me, people would know exactly where to look.”

    Comfort nods. “I’m so glad you took his threats seriously. Many abusers escalate their behaviours when they realise they’ve lost control. You did exactly what you needed to do.”

    Dolapo draws a deep breath. “I regret ever meeting him, and it gets to me sometimes. There are nights I wake up crying. Nights I feel cheated by life.”

    “That’s normal,” Comfort assures her. “You’ve come so far, and it’s okay to have moments of sadness. What’s important is that you got out.”

    For Dolapo, the hardest part was unlearning the guilt she carried.

    “I still blame myself for this situation. Maybe I should have fought back harder. Maybe I should have been smarter and never fallen for him in the first place.”

    Comfort shakes her head in disagreement. “That’s the thing about abuse — it’s never the victim’s fault. You didn’t ‘allow’ anything to happen to you. You were manipulated, controlled, and broken down.”

    Dolapo nods hesitantly. “I feel like I should have seen it coming. Maybe I was naive.”

    “You weren’t naive,” Comfort gently corrects her. “Abusers don’t show up in devil horns. They come as everything you’ve wanted. And you’re not the only one. I’ve worked with highly intelligent, successful women in their 40s and 50s who found themselves in abusive relationships. It has nothing to do with being smart.”

    [ad]

    Dolapo paused for a few seconds before she asks, “How do I make sure I don’t end up in another abusive relationship?”

    Comfort sighs. “That’s the tricky part. There’s no foolproof way to avoid abuse. Even if someone seems perfect at first, they can reveal a different side over time. But there are things you can do to protect yourself.”

    “First, look at your past experiences. Are there unresolved traumas — maybe from childhood, or previous relationships — that made you more vulnerable to staying in a toxic dynamic? Healing from those is key.”

    “Second, educate yourself on what abuse really looks like. Now that you know the signs, you’ll be able to recognise them earlier.”

    “Third, trust your gut. Abusers operate from the same playbook: love-bombing, isolation, blame-shifting, coercive control, mutual abuse. If something feels off, don’t dismiss it. Pay attention.”

    Dolapo takes it all in. “That makes sense.”

    “And finally,” Comfort adds, “stop blaming yourself. You think there was something you could have done differently, but the only way to avoid the abuse would have been never meeting him at all. The important thing is that you got out, and you get to rebuild your life on your own terms.”

    Dolapo has left, but moving forward isn’t as simple as she’d hoped. The idea of dating again feels impossible.

    “How do I even build up interest again?” she asks, the frustration evident in her voice. “Not even talking about dating immediately — just getting to the point where I can talk to a man, go on dates, get to know someone. Right now, if a man walks up to me and says, ‘I like you,’ I immediately detest him.”

    Comfort listens carefully before responding.

    “There’s no rush. You’re still hurting, and that’s okay. You were in the relationship for nine years — that’s enough time for someone to start university, get their master’s degree, and begin their PhD. That’s enough time for a baby to grow up and finish primary school. You can’t just move on from that overnight. In fact, trying to move on too quickly would do more harm than good.”

    Dolapo nods in agreement. She knew Comfort was right.

    “So what do I do in the meantime? How do I even begin to let go of all this resentment?”

    “It’ll happen naturally,” Comfort promises. “As you continue to heal, the anger will start to fade. You’ll get to a point where you can make the distinction. Yes, this man hurt me, and yes, there are others like him out there. But there are also men who will love, respect, and treat me the way I deserve.”

    Comfort pauses before adding, “But right now? You’re still grieving. And you can’t heal unless you’ve grieved fully.”

    Dolapo exhales.

    “I just feel like there’s a lot of pressure from people,” she admits. “Telling me to move on, to put myself out there again. But they don’t get it.”

    “And they never will,” Comfort says firmly. “They haven’t lived your experience. They haven’t cried your tears, carried your pepper spray, or woken up every day rebuilding a life from scratch. So they don’t get to decide when you should be ready again. Only you do.”

    For the first time in a long while, Dolapo allows herself to sit with that truth. There’s no deadline for healing. No timeline for moving on.

    And when the time comes, she’ll know.

    If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse, there is help available. The International Federation of Women Lawyers, Women Impacting Nigeria and Mirabel centre offer pro bono legal support and medical care.

    READ THIS NEXT: Step-by-step Guide to Seeking Justice Against Gender-based Violence

  • Some people believe that breakups in romantic relationships are the most painful form of heartbreak, second only to losing a loved one to death. While this may be true for some, I’ve found that platonic breakups — the loss of a close friend — can hurt just as much.

    I reached out to several young Nigerians to hear about their experiences with the end of a friendship and how they coped with the fallout.

    [ad][/ad]

    “He gave me the silent treatment, which he knew was a trigger for me.” — Toyin*, F, 22

    My friendship with Tobi ended abruptly last year. He was a friend of my cousin, and after we met in 2020, we became fast friends. Then, last year, we had our first and last fight. 

    I made a joke in passing, and Tobi told me he didn’t appreciate it. I didn’t have a problem with that and apologised, but he didn’t let it go. He started saying hurtful things about how I was self-absorbed and self-serving. It got to the point that I started wondering if it was because of a joke that we’d made several times in the past with no problem. It turns out that he was resentful and silent about many things that had happened in our friendship over the past four years. But how was I supposed to know what he was thinking if he never spoke up?

    After that day, he started giving me the silent treatment, which he knew was a huge trigger for me. After months of trying to reach out and find a way to mend our friendship with no answer, I gave up and started grieving the end of our friendship. I told him not to text me anymore and I apologised for hurting him again. Then he started tagging me in reels and TikTok videos like the past three months of silence never happened.

    How did you deal with it?

    I think I’m still dealing with it, to be honest. I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happened, but I also know who I am — and the things he said about me aren’t true. Still, some days, it’s hard not to doubt that.

    Regardless of how badly he treated me, I still really love him. I could barely eat or speak after our breakup happened. My friends tell me that I’m giving him unnecessary grace, but I think this is how I want to move past it. 

    Holding on to the thought that he might’ve not meant it, or I triggered him, and I could have handled the situation better keeps me up at night sometimes, but I’m looking to the future now. I took advantage of some free therapy opportunities to help me cope.

    ALSO READ: Sunken Ships: I Cut Off My Friend After She “Stole” My Crush

    “I didn’t lose a single person, I lost my entire friend group.” — Ayomide, M, 29

    I’d been friends with several of these guys since primary and secondary school, and I used to think that we’d be friends for life. We were so close that even if I went to a different part of town alone, people would ask, “Where is the rest of your group?” It breaks my heart that I had to sever our bonds.

    We fell out in 2020 because of money — well, how we made money. Back in uni we used to do writing gigs on Upwork and we’d make great money for our age. ₦100k here, ₦200k there; very decent money for the time, but like all freelance work, it was not steady. Unfortunately, my ex-friends turned to doing “Yahoo” to make money, and they made a lot.

    At first, I didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t support it, but I didn’t think I should force my own ideals on anyone. Then December 2020 came around, and the entire group did an intervention for me where they tried to pressure me to start doing Yahoo too. I stood my ground, and said I had no interest in making money that way. They ridiculed me and made me question my life choices. I wasn’t making a lot of money then either, so it really stung that my day ones would stoop to that level just to get me to do what they were doing. So after a lot of reflection, I cut all of them off. Some of them reach out to check on me every once in a while, but our friendship can never be what it once was again.

    How did you deal with it?

    I focused that energy on my friendship with my brother. I now see that he’s the only person I know who would never make me feel lesser for making my own life choices and choosing my own path. That’s the only kind of acceptance I need in my life, not one that depends on how much I make.

    “After we parted ways, my other friends in the friend group told me they were wondering how I was coping with her.” — Dabira*, F, 25

    I don’t know that it was an “official” break-up, but I kinda just had it up to here (my chin) and tapped out. I had noticed some extremely selfish behaviour and kept telling myself I was overthinking things. It was upsetting because I generally put my friends first or at least with more regard than regular people, and this babe was not about that life. I didn’t like how it was changing me, because I would want to do something nice for her and immediately think ‘If the roles were reversed, she wouldn’t be thinking about me.’ It was stressful. I didn’t have to do that with my other friends. 

    It was a lecturer that snapped me to reality. I had to submit an assignment for both of us, because we were in the same department, and I had hers on top of mine. I handed it over to the lecturer like that, and he asked why I would put someone else’s work before mine, and if he had decided not to collect any more after hers, what would I have done? He really went off on me, saying that I should put myself first, and it was the reset I needed. 

    I’m a nonconfrontational person, so I wasn’t going to ‘talk’ about anything because I knew it’d just get awkward. I slowly withdrew from her, and now we only wish each other happy birthday. 

    How did you deal with it?

    There wasn’t much to deal with. After we parted ways, my other friends in the friend group told me they were wondering how I was coping with her. It’s funny because I was the closest to her in the group. I felt so validated after that because I thought I was the problem.

    ALSO READ: Moving In With My Friend Has Ruined Our 10-Year-Old Friendship

    “I’d travel from Ajah to Surulere, but she never made the effort to come to my side.” — Tunmise, M, 29 

    For me, relationships — whether romantic, platonic, or familial — are like a ship on a journey. The ship moves forward only when everyone on board interacts harmoniously; if not, it stalls or even sinks. I believe in giving my all: it’s full love or no love at all, whether I’m a partner, friend, or family member. 

    I remember when I was 16, fresh out of secondary school. I was growing closer to someone, but at that time I had no boundaries — people could easily take advantage of me. It took a lot of hardship before I realised that I was the only one keeping that relationship afloat. While she was studying in Canada, and I was at UNILAG, we stayed in touch constantly despite the time differences. 

    However, after about six months, I started feeling that something was off. I was pouring so much of myself into the relationship, yet it felt increasingly one-sided — especially when she visited Nigeria for the holidays. I’d travel from Ajah to Surulere, but she never made the effort to come to my side. It became clear that the friendship wasn’t as important to her as it was to me, and that realisation changed everything.

    How did you deal with it?

    There wasn’t a dramatic fight, we simply drifted. What started as occasional silence eventually became days, then weeks, and ultimately a full year without a conversation. I never voiced my feelings, but I did feel taken for granted — though I now realise it was partly my fault for not understanding boundaries and how to protect myself. 

    There’s no hard feelings now; if she reaches out, I respond. In fact, she did in 2024, and we had a pleasant catch-up. I believe every relationship serves a purpose — some are lifelong, while others are temporary. For me, it takes a lot for a relationship to turn into a conflict, and thankfully, it never reached that point.

    “She demanded my attention but I was under a lot of pressure.” — Atinuke*, F, 28

    I met this babe in a book club in 2022. We instantly clicked over one of the books, and our commentaries were hilarious as we read together. So we exchanged numbers, and we quickly became “book besties.” We would pick a book to read and dissect, and it was great because our book tastes were practically identical. 

    I wasn’t working at the time, and I had a lot of time on my hands, so it was easy to keep up with texts and read new books. Then came 2023. I moved to a new city in August while still in the early stages of grieving the loss of a close friend who had passed away in May. The move was hectic, and as I tried to find my footing, I was also dealing with medical issues.

    Omo, looking back, it was just a lot. Naturally, I was distant and wasn’t reading as much. My friend would send me long messages, complaining that I had time to tweet but not to read books with her. I tried to explain that doomscrolling on X was just a way for me to cope and that I didn’t have the bandwidth to read or reply to texts as quickly as I used to, but I don’t think she really understood. She constantly took it as me not wanting to communicate with her.

    Then, sometime in 2024, she sent me another long message, and I had just had enough. I told her it was best for us to go our separate ways. You can’t be this demanding of my attention while refusing to understand that I was under a lot of pressure. And just like that, our friendship fell apart.

    How did you deal with it?

    I wouldn’t say I dealt with it. I just locked it away, waiting until I was ready to face the other emotional issues I had been avoiding. But I know I miss our friendship whenever I pick up a book and think, ‘Wow, she would have loved this one. We would have had a great time buddy-reading it.’

    How to Deal with a Friendship Breakup

    Letting go of friendships can be incredibly painful, especially when you still care about the person but there’s a growing rift between you. However, suppressing those emotions isn’t the best way to cope. Here are a few tips to help you navigate the loss:

    1. Limit their access

    To truly begin the process of moving on, you need to create some distance. This could mean unpinning their chat on WhatsApp, removing them from your burner accounts, or gently stepping back — just like Dabira* did. Giving yourself space can help ease the emotional toll.

    2. Write out your feelings

    Journaling can bring clarity and closure. Writing down your thoughts and emotions can help you process what happened, acknowledge your efforts in maintaining the friendship, and ultimately make it easier to accept the situation.

    3. Talk to a professional

    If you have access to therapy, whether free or paid, consider speaking to a professional, like Toyin* did. Therapy can provide valuable tools for healing, helping you work through your emotions and strengthen your existing friendships.

    4. Open yourself up to new connections

    Losing one friendship doesn’t mean you should close yourself off to new relationships. There are still so many people out there who will become part of your life. Even if it feels daunting, keep putting yourself out there. Who knows? Your next best friend could be just around the corner.

    If you enjoyed reading this, you’d also enjoy: Sunken Ships: I Lived With My Best Friend’s Girlfriend, and It Was The Worst Decision Ever

  • The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.

    How long have you been in your relationship?

    8 months.

    How did y’all meet?

    Justin and I have moved in the same friend groups since university. We were in the same department but didn’t get close until he invited me and some other classmates to a family event in July 2024. 

    We schooled in Lagos, but the event was in Owerri, so many of our friends couldn’t attend. I was already in Owerri — I have family here and was also trying to work out my NYSC posting to the state capital — and decided to attend. Initially, Justin and I only talked about the logistics of my accommodation. 

    Then I ended up staying over in one of the rooms in his family home, and we realised we were actually attracted to each other. I still joke today that it was love at first kiss for us.

    I rate it. Are you both in the same cities now?

    Oh yes. He moved back to Owerri after we finished school in 2023. Thankfully, my NYSC posting to Owerri worked out one month after we started dating, so there was no long-distance drama for us. 

    I also live close to his family home, where he lives, so I constantly pop in to say hi to everyone, especially his mum. The woman and I are now best friends. She loves me to pieces and makes sure I don’t forget it.

    That’s sweet. What are your finances like?

    When we first started dating, I was a broke babe with no earnings, but that didn’t last long because NYSC came to my rescue. I earn ₦63k now, which isn’t amazing money, but it meets my needs, and that’s better than nothing.

    Justin is a graphic designer for a Lagos-based tech company, and I think he earns at least ₦150k. I know it’s around that number because he had to pay ₦160k to swap his phone four months ago, and he said something about waiting for his salary to enter so he could do it.

    Is it safe to assume you both hardly discuss money?

    About two months into our relationship, I tried to ask him how much he earns, but he didn’t like how directly I asked. He said money was a sensitive topic, and he’d like us to get to know each other better before talking about it. That was our first argument.

    I understand he was probably trying to be careful and confirm I’m not the kind of person who’d start demanding money just because I knew his pocket. I don’t have a problem with that. I didn’t tell him my salary either, but I’m a corps member, so he knows I don’t have much. I haven’t asked about his income since then, and he hasn’t discussed it.

    You mentioned the salary question turned into an argument?

    Yeah. He told his mum I’d asked him, and she called me aside to say, “They don’t ask men things like that.” I felt blindsided that he’d report me to his mum, and we argued about it. We eventually apologised to each other. 

    But it wasn’t the last time Justin involved his mum in our issues, and I’m starting to think he’s a mummy’s boy. During my birthday in October, he asked what I wanted as a gift, and I shared screenshots of a wig and a smartwatch that’d been on my wishlist for a long time. 

    Both items cost about ₦420k, and I emphasised that he didn’t need to buy the two; I was just showing him what I wanted. You won’t believe this guy told his mum, and she warned me about being demanding. She was like, I shouldn’t use demands to chase a man who intends to marry me. He later bought me a dress for my birthday and told me his mum picked it.

    I see

    I’ve also noticed that his mum hears about our arguments and major discussions. In December, my sister had accommodation issues, and I told Justin about the situation. When I visited his mum for Christmas, she asked if my sister had solved her accommodation issues. 

    Sometimes, it’s weird that his mum is so actively involved. I love the woman; she’s incredibly nice and checks on me. But I’ve also heard horror stories about men who only listen to their mothers, and I often wonder if that’s what is playing out here. 

    Have you discussed these concerns with him?

    No. I’m 100% sure he’ll tell his mum, and I don’t want anything that’ll cause the woman to have issues with me. However, if his mum’s constant involvement gets overbearing, I’ll have to bring it up and see what happens.

    Away from this, how do you guys plan and budget for romance stuff?

    We go out for pepper soup and beer dates at least twice a month. Justin pays the bills — which is about ₦12k. He also buys me airtime and data a couple of times. I buy food to cook at his house so we can eat together once a month. That includes his parents and two siblings. I also buy snacks and drinks for his siblings and mum when I visit.

    So far, we only gift each other during special occasions. He bought me a dress for my birthday and gave me ₦30k for my hair and nails on Valentine’s Day. We also visited a restaurant for Valentine’s, and he paid the bill (about ₦50k). Justin’s birthday is in April, and I’m considering buying him headphones or a wireless mouse. My budget is ₦40k.

    Do you have a financial safety net?

    My elder sister is my safety net, but I also have ₦85k in a savings app. If I ever need emergency money, I can always run to her.

    I assume Justin has savings, though he doesn’t talk to me about it. He doesn’t spend anyhow, so I can imagine he’s keeping his money for rainy days. He also once mentioned that we’ll probably have a joint savings account when we get married. We haven’t worked out the details.

    Do you both have a timeline for when this wedding should happen?

    I know his mum wants him to get married at 30. He’s currently 27, so we’re looking at the next three years. 

    Interesting. What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

    A future where we both earn well enough to live comfortably and have real estate investments. I hope to get a well-paying job after I finish NYSC later this year so I can save for the next three years and set up a business after we get married. I’m sure Justin will also support me financially when the time comes. I’d like to be a present wife and mother, and entrepreneurship is the only way I can control my time.

    Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    Click to join the waitlist.

    NEXT READ: This Salesman Has Been in a Long-Distance Marriage for 10 Years

    Subscribe to the Money by Zikoko Newsletter for more stories like this. It’ll only take a minute.

    [ad]

  • Over the weekend, social media buzzed with hot takes following the Wigwe family drama. During the late businessman’s one-year memorial, his sibling granted an interview accusing his friends of conspiring with his daughter to betray their family in an ongoing property tussle. Nigerians quickly condemned the woman’s remarks, and many shared their own experiences of family members trying to assert control over inheritance after a parent’s passing.

    The online discourse led me to *Derin (51), who has found herself in a similar battle. In this story, she shares how she and her siblings have had to fight off an aunt determined to claim what isn’t hers.

    As told to Adeyinka

    My father, *Mr Adepoju, died in 2015, leaving behind a legacy of hard work, resilience, and, unfortunately, a family dispute that refuses to end.

    He was the firstborn of three siblings and spent most of his career working with the government. By his mid 50s, he was earning well and had secured a comfortable life for himself, his wife, and his children. At the time, my grandmother, his mother, owned a piece of land in an underdeveloped area in the outskirts of Lagos. She had started building on it but couldn’t complete the project because she fell on hard times. Seeing her struggles, my father tried to convince his two younger sisters to contribute so they could complete the house before she passed away. But they refused.

    They saw no reason to invest in a property located in an area that, at the time, had little to no prospects. The late ‘90s in Nigeria were uncertain, and land development was slow. “What’s the point?” they would say, dismissing my father’s insistence. “Even our mum herself isn’t pushing for it.”

    But my father couldn’t sit back and watch his mother’s dream rot away. He took over the project and completed the house on his own, using his hard-earned money. He did everything — roofing, plumbing, electrical work, and furnishing — without a kobo from his sisters. Sadly, my grandmother passed away before she could see the finished house.

    With no one to live in it, my father rented it out and managed the property, collecting the rent ever since. None of his sisters objected. In fact, they showed no interest in the house for decades. To them, it was just one of my father’s many responsibilities.

    [ad]

    That is, until he died.

    After my father’s passing in 2015, my siblings and I took possession of all his property documents, including those for the house he built for his mother. At first, we didn’t think anything of it. To us, it was simple: our father completed the house, managed it, and had been the sole recipient of its rent for years. Naturally, it was his.

    “I know people say they don’t fear death, but I do, and writing a will makes me think of death.”

    In this article, young Nigerian men share how they feel about writing wills.

    But suddenly, his sisters — who had never once shown interest in the house — demanded the documents. They argued that no matter who built it, the land originally belonged to their mother, and since she never officially willed it to anyone, it should return to her direct children, meaning them. They didn’t care that my father was the only one who spent money on it. “You are grandchildren,” they said. “This is not your fight.”

    It was a painful betrayal. These were women who had ignored my father’s pleas for help. Now, they felt entitled to reap from what they never sowed.

    The dispute went on for months. Extended family members took sides, and the arguments became increasingly bitter. My siblings and I wanted to fight back. My father had invested too much into that house for us to just hand it over.

    But then we considered the toll it was taking on the family: the hostility, the constant accusations, and the pressure from relatives who said, “Just let it go. It’s not worth the bad blood.” Even our mum had resigned all hope and encouraged us to hand the documents over.

    So, after much deliberation, we reached a compromise. We handed over the house documents to our father’s sisters, but only on the condition that they would still share the rent with us. They agreed, or at least, they pretended to.

    Now, we receive a portion of the rent, but we all know that arrangement is fragile. My father’s sisters are already in their early 70s. When they pass, what will happen next?

    Here’s the problem: my father’s sisters have children of their own. And unlike my siblings and me, their children played no role in maintaining or managing that house. Will they honour the agreement their mothers made with us? Or will they claim full ownership, cutting us out entirely?

    And then there’s the biggest question of all — what happens to the house itself? My grandmother never wrote a will, and my father, trusting that the house was essentially his, never wrote one either. Now, his sisters are in possession of the documents, and we have no legal claim.

    Will the house be passed down fairly? Or will it be lost in another cycle of family disputes, swallowed by new generations who have no regard for the sacrifices my father made? We don’t know.

    For now, we just watch and wait.

    If you don’t want your family fighting over property when you’re gone, here’s a useful article on what you should know about writing a will in Nigeria.

    READ THIS NEXT: My Mum Has Everything, But She’s Still The Greediest Person I’ve Ever Known

  • Tell me about your relationship with your sister

    She is the second, and I am the third of four children. Ironically, we were the closest siblings when we were children. I guess it was because we were only two years apart and had similar tastes in games, TV shows, and music. Things were pretty great, but we started growing apart after our little sister was born. I’m not sure if it was because I was the only boy in the family or because we developed different interests, but by our mid-teens, we were not on the same page.

    What do you mean?

    During my childhood, starting around age nine, I can’t remember a nice thing she’d ever did for me, but I can recall countless instances where she would try to pin things on me just to see me get punished. My father is a pastor, so when I brought it up with him, he would say I should forgive and forget because we’re siblings. I really tried to, but her behaviour was just too much.

    [ad][/ad]

    Can you tell me one of those instances?

    Sure. When the Samsung S8 came out, I had just brought home stellar results from school, and my parents gave it to me as a gift. I was very happy with it because I love gadgets. After a week or two, she was attending a friend’s wedding and asked that I lend her the phone so she could take nice photos at the event. I was happy to oblige her. Long story short, she didn’t come back home with the phone. She said she forgot it in the cab on the way back home, but I’m very sure she lost it on purpose.

    Ah.

    In 2018, my penultimate year at university, I came home from Ghana to visit my family. Chinasa had flunked out of her university program earlier in the year, so between the pressure at home to get back into school and seeing her mates progress without her, she was pretty depressed. 

    I convinced her to come back to Ghana with me because I had an apartment that our dad had furnished, and I had some money saved up. She was reluctant to come with me but promised to come through for the Christmas break. When the time came, we spent three weeks together at my place in Ghana. She had a blast. We tried out all the hottest spots, went to the park together, rewatched our favourite shows, and it was great. I was even thinking that our relationship was getting better because of how well we bonded when she was around. She even extended her stay and went back to Nigeria at the end of January instead of when school started.

    On Valentine’s Day, my father was at my door in Ghana for a surprise visit. I was so happy to see him, I didn’t think his visit, so close to Chinasa’s return home, was connected.  He was supposed to be in the UK for an event, but he said he decided to spend four days with me before going. 

    I showed him around my school and took him to some of the places my sister and I went to, and we generally caught up. The night before he left, he called me aside and told me he had come because he was worried about me. He said my sister came home from Ghana in tears, talking about how I was spending money recklessly, that I was a cult leader, and that I never attended classes. I was confused. This was the person who was with me the entire time during the holiday and when school resumed. She even attended some of my classes with me. I was very hurt but also very confused. It damaged my relationship with my mum for a while because she was so convinced I had become something else at university.

    READ ALSO: I Lived With My Best Friend’s Girlfriend, and It Was the Worst Decision Ever

    Did you confront her about it?

    Yes, I did, but she said, that if I had nothing to hide, why would I be offended by the lies she was telling? That made me angrier. I decided to keep my distance from her. Then, of course, my mum and dad stepped in, saying they didn’t want to raise children who wouldn’t love each other. They didn’t want it to seem like they were playing favourites because I was the only boy, but it was clear that I was constantly at the receiving end of my sister’s anger, even if it had nothing to do with me.

    That same year, she colluded with an ex-girlfriend to lie and try to pin a pregnancy on me. It wasn’t until a DNA test proved my innocence that she stopped telling random people that I was a deadbeat dad. 

    Omo. Did she ever apologise for anything she did?

    Not once. Whenever it involved me, and I tried to explain my side or show her how she hurt me, she’d start crying and try to paint herself as the victim. The cycle of forgiveness and deeper cuts got exhausting for me, and I started to withdraw from her because I just wanted to avoid the wahala. But her last stunt was the final straw for me.

    Tell me what happened.

    A female friend and I made a joint investment into crypto late last year. It didn’t pan out, and we lost the money, but I promised to reimburse her because it was her first time, and I didn’t want her to be discouraged from investments. When it was time to pay, I didn’t have the cash. I promised to contact her later, but my phone broke. My friend somehow got my sister’s number and called her to ask after me. Thinking that it was safe to talk to my family members, she told my sister about the investment and the money I promised to give her back.

    As soon as my mum saw me when I got back home that day, she threw herself to the ground in tears. She started screaming in Igbo that the evil day had finally come. Meanwhile, my sister was sitting in one corner, smiling smugly. I was confused as to why she would be smiling when our mum was in that state. After calming my mum down, she started saying how Chinasa had said I owed people all over Lagos money, and that I was into crypto fraud. I instantly felt tired. She’s going to be 34 years old this year, but she has the maturity of a ten-year-old. 

    I almost exploded in anger at her and told her I never wanted to speak to her again. It took weeks before my mum believed my side of the story. I had to call my friend to tell my mom the truth before things calmed down a bit. 

    I secretly made plans and moved out of my apartment, and no one in my family knows where I live now. I don’t want to tell them because they might tell her. I also blocked her number everywhere. She’s an unrepentant liar, and I feel like if I keep forgiving her, she’ll do something that will actually harm me one day.

    Do you think your relationship with her can improve if she changes her ways?

    No. At this point, I have seen and heard enough. Even our lastborn told me that she thought I was a cultist for the longest time because that’s what our sister had been telling her. Who knows what she has told strangers and people I’ll never be able to tell my side to? I just want to live my life in peace. If we must be completely separate for that to happen, so be it.

    If you enjoyed reading this, you’d also enjoy: Sunken Ships: I Cut Off My Friend After She “Stole” My Crush

  • In the spirit of love, Indomie Relish hosted an extraordinary event that blended delicious flavours, heartwarming connections, and unforgettable fun. From the laughter-filled games to the soul-nourishing activities, this wasn’t just another Valentine’s event—it was a celebration of love in all its beautiful forms.

    Here’s a recap of the top moments that made it truly special:

    Love for Everyone, No Plus-One Needed

    The  Relish Love Experience welcomed everyone, whether they came with a partner, a friend, or simply themselves. It was about more than love; it was about connection and community. The vibe was electric, making every guest feel like they were part of something bigger—a family brought together by love, food, and good times.

    Love, Laughter & Indomie Relish

    At the heart of it all was love—love for a great company, love for self-care, and love for food (especially Indomie Relish!). The warm, inviting atmosphere made every guest feel cherished. Whether you were sharing a bowl of noodles with a loved one or enjoying the experience solo, you left with a full heart and an even fuller stomach.

    Cooking, but Make It a Masterpiece

    Let’s talk about food—the real MVP of the night! Guests got a front-row seat at an exclusive Relish Cooking Demo. The Media Girl worked her culinary magic alongside one of our male guests, elevating Indomie Relish into gourmet goodness. Attendees didn’t just watch; they took home inspiration to turn their everyday noodles into a five-star meal!

    Kintsugi: Turning Broken into Beautiful

    One of the most profound moments of the event was the Kintsugi session. This Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold became a powerful metaphor for love, resilience, and embracing imperfections. Guests mended shattered pieces, transforming them into stunning works of art—just like how love and life’s challenges shape us into something even more beautiful.

    Games That Sparked Instant Friendships

    Nothing brings people together like a little friendly competition! From laughter-filled challenges to interactive group games, the event was packed with icebreakers that turned strangers into teammates and teammates into friends. Whether you were testing your knowledge or battling it out in a fun showdown, the energy was electric!

    The Ultimate Influencer Hangout

    What’s a great event without a star-studded lineup? The evening was graced by some of the most exciting influencers— Bam Bam, The Media Girl, Official Beco, and Nelly Mbonu—who brought their signature energy, making the experience feel like a casual, fun-filled gathering with your favourite online personalities.  A great event needs an incredible host, and BamBam delivered effortlessly. Her infectious energy, warmth, and charm united the crowd, making every moment feel personal. Whether hyping up guests, cracking jokes, or leading heartfelt conversations, she ensured no one felt like a stranger.

    A Valentine’s Gift For Everyone

    Indomie Relish made the day even more delightful by surprising attendees with a thoughtfully curated gift box. Each box was packed with love and featured packs of Indomie Relish, chocolates, and other exciting valuable items. This perfect mix of treats and keepsakes added to the beautiful atmosphere and reminded guests that a warm bowl of Indomie is always a great way to share love.

  • Dating in Nigeria is a game of chance. Sometimes, you meet someone great, and everything clicks. Other times, you spend an entire evening questioning your life choices over a badly planned date. But if there is one thing that brings people together, it is food.

    Knorr’s #UnlockYourGreenFlag is here to remind singles that in a sea of dating red flags, cooking is one green flag that never fails. Let’s be honest: if someone can not even try making a simple meal, how will they put in the work required to make a relationship work? 

    Here are some memorable tales of dating gone wrong and the surprising lessons they left behind:

    The Recipe for Romance (and a Small Fire)  

    Efe wanted to impress his crush, so he decided to cook jollof rice for their first date at his place. He had the ingredients, the confidence, and the Knorr cubes for that delicious, and tasty meal. What he didn’t have? Proper timing.  

    Midway through their conversation, the smell of something burning filled the air. He sprinted to the kitchen—pot smoking, rice sticking, but somehow, the bottom layer had that perfect ‘party jollof’ crisp. They laughed it off, scraped off the best parts, and ate it anyway.  

    Love Lesson: Cooking doesn’t have to be perfect to be special. Effort (and Knorr) make all the difference.  

    The Date That Felt Like a Podcast Episode

    Chioma was excited about her date with Tunde. He was tall, fine, and had a job, already better than 80% of the people in her DMs. The plan was simple: meet at a nice restaurant, eat, and get to know each other. But the moment they sat down, she realised she had made a mistake.

    “He spent the entire night talking about himself—his job, his car, how women always stress him. I just sat there nodding, wondering if I was a guest on his personal podcast. At some point, I started responding with just ‘Wow’ and ‘That’s crazy,’ but he did not notice.”

    By the time the bill arrived, Chioma had already planned her exit strategy. That day, she learned a crucial lesson: a great date is a conversation, not a TED Talk.

    Love Lesson: If someone is not interested in listening and learning about you, they are probably not interested in you.

    The Date That Became a Cooking Show  

    Teni and her date planned to cook together—fun, right? That was until he started acting like a reality TV chef.  

    “You’re chopping too slowly.”  

    “That’s too much oil.”  

    “You have to stir like this—let me do it.”  

    By the time the meal was ready, she had barely touched a spoon, but they both agreed it was the best pasta they’d had. Despite the micromanaging, she saw his passion, and he promised to let her take charge next time.  

    Love Lesson: Cooking is teamwork. It’s not about perfection; it’s about the shared experience.  

    Knorr’s #UnlockYourGreenFlag is not about making cooking the thing that defines a relationship. It is about recognising that in a world where so many things feel complicated, sometimes, the simplest gestures—like making an effort with food—speak the loudest. Follow @cookwithKnorr on TikTok for more on the challenge

  • Some breakups feel like a clean cut — painful but final. Others linger, leaving behind questions, regrets, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things could have been different.

    Lojay’s fantastic new single, “Somebody Like You,” perfectly captures that feeling of losing ‘the one.’ Inspired by the Grammy nominee’s story, we asked five Nigerians about the ex they still think about, the one they’ll never move on from.

    “I would have walked to Chicago to be with her.” — James*, Male, 32 

    We were young and madly in love. From the moment I saw her in JSS 2 back in 2002, I knew she was the one. On Valentine’s Day in 2003, I asked her out after spending nights creating the perfect card. I wonder if she ever thinks about that.

    On why it ended:

    We didn’t just end; we faded, which was more painful. Her aunt in the US wanted to sponsor the rest of her secondary school education. So, when we were in SS1, she moved to Chicago. After a couple of months, her letters stopped coming, and that was the end of us.

    She found me on Facebook in 2023 and sent a message telling me she was getting married in the fall of that year. She invited me, but I didn’t go.

    On what he would say to her:

    I would have walked to Chicago to be with you if you asked. I’m sorry we found each other too young. I hope you’re happy with him, but if you ever want to come back, the door will always be open for you.

    “Our parents were priming us for marriage” — Solape*, Female, 26

    I don’t necessarily think he was the one who got away, but he left the most impact on me, positively and negatively. Our parents were priming us for marriage so, sometimes, he feels like the one that got away.

    On why it ended:

    It ended because men are a wicked lot. That guy used cheating to show my eye premium pepper. So, even though he had so many positive traits, I couldn’t get past the ways he broke my trust.

    On what she would say to him:

    F*ck you, and also, I miss you. Since we broke up, I haven’t been able to love anyone as purely, honestly and deeply as I did you. You tainted my vulnerability, and I can never forgive you for that, but I still miss you sometimes — the good bits, at least.

    ALSO READ: 12 Nigerians Describe Their Ex with a Nigerian Food

    “I had no idea how good I had it” — Bayo*, Male, 25

    We really cared for each other and could have had it all, but I wasn’t ready for something serious. I had no idea how good I had it until I returned to the streets.

    On why it ended:

    It ended during a manic episode I was experiencing. She didn’t know what was going on with me — I didn’t either — or what to do about it.

    I wasn’t really aware of my thoughts and actions then, but I felt frustrated and impatient with her for some reason. In a heated argument about my behavior, I broke things off with her.

    On what he would say to her:

    I still think about you a lot, and if I could go back to that instant and work things out instead of losing my cool, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve the whole world, and I wish you the very best.

    “It was near perfect” — Ayo*, Male, 26

    It was my first love without prior reference. There was nothing to compare it to (for me at least) and it was near perfect. I always feel like we could’ve been so good together.

    On why it ended:

    I’m not sure anymore. I’ve had many answers over the years, but I think, ultimately, we became different people — all of our common ground gave way.

    On what he would say to her:

    In my house, you’re valid af. Enjoy life, be everything freely. Trust yourself to get by. Never change.

    “I’ll probably spend the rest of my life wanting him.” — Sandra*, Female, 29

    Physically, he is my exact spec, and our lives fit together perfectly. If there were any justice in this world, he would be the one I end up with. But sadly, that can never happen.

    On why it ended:

    Our foundation was not solid. The way we started our love involved a lot of deception and hurting others. The lies and sneaking around was too much, and our relationship couldn’t make it

    On what she would say to him:

    I wrote a song about you, I will never get over you, and I will always love you. I hope that you eventually end up with somebody who makes you happy, but I won’t attend the wedding because I know I’m going to be bitter as hell. Honestly, I’ll probably spend the rest of my life wanting him.

    ALSO READ: I Stole My Mother’s Gold To Help My Boyfriend Japa. Then He Ghosted Me

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Tife: It was at the NYSC orientation camp in Benin in 2021. Right from that first day, I saw Quam and thought he was doing too much. He was assisting other corps members, giving directives, and acting like he was a camp official. In my mind, I was like, “Who is this over sabi guy?” We were all new, so I didn’t understand why he was moving like he had been here before.

    But funny enough, about three hours later, I needed help with a document I was supposed to print. I didn’t think twice about approaching him. He was so eager to help that I actually felt bad about my earlier assumptions about him.

    Quam: This is entirely news to me. But yeah, that was our first encounter. I remember Tife walking up to me to ask for help with a form. I had already assisted other people before, so it wasn’t a bother. But something about her made it seem like she was in the wrong place. I mean, we were all JJCs, but she looked like she wasn’t built for camp life.

    So, did you start talking from then on?

    Tife: Not at all. After that day, I didn’t see him for about five days. It was almost like he vanished from camp. I remember asking one of my roommates about “the over sabi guy from day one,” and she also said she hadn’t seen him. At that point, I started searching for him—not an active search, but I kept my eyes open, hoping to run into him.

    Quam: I fell sick after the first two days in camp, so I spent most of that first week in the hostel. The camp director knew how helpful I was on the first day, so they didn’t bother me when I missed some activities. But on the sixth day, a friend came to tell me someone was looking for me. I stepped out of the hostel, and it was Tife.

    Tife: Guess you could say my search was fruitful. Someone directed me to his hostel and told me he wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to visit him and check-in.

    Quam: That was when we properly started talking. She’d come around, bring me food, and we’d gist about camp activities. We got close really quickly.

    Sweet. Was this when you realised you both liked each other?

    Tife: I don’t think there was a specific moment. We just started spending all our time together. We’d go to Mammy Market together, sit together during lectures, and even pretend to be interested in camp activities just to have an excuse to hang out.

    There was one night when we were gisting about our childhoods, and I realised I didn’t want our conversations to end. That’s when I knew I liked him.

    Quam: For me, it was when camp was ending, and I started getting anxious about what would happen next. I had gotten so used to her being around that the thought of not seeing her every day made me uneasy.

    What happened after camp?

    Tife: We were both posted to different places in Benin for our primary assignments, but we were lucky to still be in the same location. That was when we really got closer.

    Quam: Yeah, camp was just the foundation. The real bonding happened during the one-year service. We were practically inseparable. We’d meet up every weekend, try out new food spots, and go on small road trips whenever we had the chance. We also helped each other through the adjustment period. NYSC can be frustrating, and it was nice having someone to vent to. She was my safe space.

    Tife: I think being in the same place for a whole year made us even more sure of what we felt for each other. About six months into our service year, we’d both gotten to the point where we knew what we wanted, and that’s when we officially started dating.

    What were the early days of your relationship like?

    Tife: It was sweet. Since we had already been close friends, transitioning into a relationship felt really natural. We didn’t have that awkward getting-to-know-you phase because we had already spent months practically joined at the hip.

    Quam: But even with how much we knew each other, dating still revealed new things. Like, I always knew Tife was stubborn, but dating her showed me just how stubborn she really was. If she set her mind on something, convincing her otherwise was a full-time job.

    Tife: Actually, Quam is one of those people who think they’re always right. He would argue and argue, even when it’s obvious he’s wrong.

    Hmmm

    Quam: That’s not true.

    Tife: Case in point. But seriously, some things surprised me about him. For example, I knew he was caring, but dating him made me realise how deeply intentional he is. If I mentioned something I liked in passing, he’d remember and bring it up later. He paid attention to details in a way that made me feel truly seen.

    Quam: Meanwhile, I discovered that Tife can cry for Africa. The tiniest thing could make her tear up. I remember the first time she cried in front of me, I was so confused. I kept asking, “What did I do?” because I thought I had offended her. But I got used to it. And I also realised that her emotions were a big part of how deeply she felt things. If she was happy, you’d know. If she was upset, you’d know. It was refreshing, actually, because I’ve always been more of a bottled-up person.

    Tife: We balanced each other out. I made him more expressive, and he taught me how to slow down and process things before reacting.

    Sounds like you guys were perfect for each other

    Tife: We really were, or at least that’s what we thought.

    What do you mean?

    Tife: The one-year service ended, and reality set in. We had to decide what was next for us, individually and as a couple. Quam got a better job offer in Lagos, and I had to return to Ilorin because my parents weren’t exactly thrilled about me staying back in Benin.

    Quam: It was a no-brainer for me. The job in Lagos was a great opportunity, and even though leaving Tife behind was hard, I told myself we could make it work. We had survived NYSC and built this strong connection and I thought, “Distance won’t change anything.”

    But it did. The first few months were okay because we were still in the honeymoon phase, calling each other constantly and texting all day. But slowly, the cracks started to show. I was always busy with work, and she was trying to settle back home while figuring out her next step.

    Tife: The thing with long distance is, there’s a lot of room for misunderstanding. In person, you can read someone’s body language and hear their tone properly. But over the phone, a simple “I’m tired” can be interpreted as “I don’t want to talk to you.” And for me, it was harder because I was used to having him around. Now, I was back home, where my parents were subtly reminding me that they never really approved of our relationship.

    Why did they disapprove?

    Quam: To be honest, her parents weren’t exactly anti-me, but they were just like your typical Nigerian parents. They wanted her to settle down with someone closer, not a  guy living in another state with no clear plans yet.

    Tife: I won’t lie, there were moments when I wondered if they were right. Not because I didn’t love Quam, but because I didn’t know how we would make it work long-term. And that uncertainty led to small fights, which became big fights. Before, if we had an issue, we’d just meet up, talk, and sort it out. But now, when we argued, we had to sit with the frustration because there was no easy way to resolve things.

    Did you ever find a balance?

    Quam: We tried. We really did. For months, we kept adjusting, trying different ways to make the distance feel smaller. We scheduled video calls, virtual movie dates, and even started planning visits in advance. I came to Ilorin when I could, and she also tried to visit Lagos. But it still wasn’t the same. No matter how much effort we put in, there were always moments when the distance felt too overwhelming . 

    Tife: Like on days when I had a rough time at work and just wanted a hug. Or times when he went out with friends, and I’d feel left out, wondering what it’d be like if I was there. And then there was the time difference…

    Wait, what time difference?

    Tife: Not literally, but it felt that way. Our schedules became so different that even finding time to talk became an issue. I’d call when he was in the middle of something, he’d call when I was already asleep. Little things like that started to add up. And before we knew it, our relationship started feeling like a chore.  It became something we had to actively remember to maintain rather than something that flowed naturally.

    Quam: I always tell Tife that it was never a question of love, even now, we still love each other. But we were growing into different versions of ourselves, and those versions weren’t as compatible as we used to be.

    And that’s when we started having the conversation about whether holding on was really the best thing for us.

    How did that conversation go?

    Quam: It wasn’t just one conversation. It started as small, passing comments. Things like, “This distance is really getting to me” or “Do you think we can keep doing this?” We were both feeling it, but no one wanted to be the first to say it out loud.

    Tife: I remember one night, after another argument about something so stupid I can’t even remember, I just blurted out, “What are we even doing?” And there was this long silence. That was the first time we both admitted to ourselves that something wasn’t working.

    Quam: We didn’t break up immediately. We kept trying, maybe out of habit, maybe out of fear. But the seed had been planted. After that conversation, every fight, every missed call, and every moment of frustration just felt like more proof that we were forcing something that wasn’t meant to work anymore. 

    Tife: And that’s when I suggested we meet up in person. I didn’t want us to end things over the phone. We agreed that if we were really going to break up, we should do it with love, not resentment.

    Quam: It was on Valentine’s Day, and I thought, Iif this is going to be the end, at least let it be a good ending. So I travelled to Ilorin without telling her.

    And how did you feel about his surprise visit, knowing the intention behind it, Tife?

    Tife: I won’t lie, I was shocked when he showed up. I had no idea he was coming, and when I saw him standing outside my house, my heart just sank. I knew why he was there, and a part of me wanted to pretend I didn’t.

    But the thing is, even with the heaviness of what we were about to do, there was no tension between us. We spent the day together, ate at my favourite amala joint, drove around the city, and laughed at old memories. It didn’t feel like a breakup; it felt like two people just appreciating what they had shared.

    Quam: That was the goal. I didn’t want it to be a sad, messy breakup where we both left feeling bitter. I wanted us to be able to look back and say, “We tried, we loved each other, and it was beautiful while it lasted.” Later that night, when it was finally time to talk, we sat in my hotel room, and I just said, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right?” And she nodded. There were no tears, no drama. Just an understanding that we had reached the end of this chapter.

    Tife: We promised to stay in touch, and at first, I didn’t know how that would work. But surprisingly, breaking up took a lot of the pressure off. We weren’t fighting over missed calls or feeling guilty about not having enough time for each other. Whenever we did talk, it was easy, like two old friends catching up.

    Nice. What’s your relationship like now?

    Tife: We still talk, but we’ve given ourselves space to redefine what we mean to each other. We don’t want to rush into friendship while emotions are still fresh.

    Quam: We’re both single, but there’s a freedom that comes with not having the boyfriend-girlfriend tag lingering over us. We’re taking our time figuring out what we want, but we still have a lot of love and respect for each other.

    Do you think there’s a possibility of rekindling things in the future, or is this chapter completely closed?

    Tife: I won’t say never, but I also don’t want to hold onto the idea of maybe. Right now, we’re both focused on our individual lives and if somewhere down the line, we find ourselves in the same place—literally and emotionally— who knows? But I don’t want to cling to that thought and stop myself from being open to new possibilities.

    Quam: I feel the same way. I care about Tife deeply, and if life ever aligns for us again, I’d be open to seeing where it leads. But for now, I think we’re exactly where we need to be—separate, but still rooting for each other from afar.

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

    Tife: Right now? Maybe a 6. I’m in a good place emotionally, but I won’t lie, love still feels a bit uncertain. I’m not actively looking for a relationship, but I’m also not closed off to it. I guess I’m just letting things flow.

    Quam: I’d say a 7. Breaking up was tough, but I think it was the right decision for us. I’m enjoying this phase of self-discovery, figuring out what I really want in a partner and a relationship. With Tife, when the time is right, I know I’ll be ready to try again.

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

    [ad]