Olamide had texted an hour earlier to say he was coming over, which wasn’t unusual on its own, but there was something about the way he’d typed it. ‘‘ Hi babe, I’m coming over, i have something to tell you’’

I spent that hour pretending to fold laundry I had already folded twice.

When I opened the door, he was standing there in the Grey shirt I liked, and his top button was undone, which meant he’d come straight from the office without stopping to compose himself. His face gave nothing away or maybe they did in a certain way.

“Hey love,” he said trying not to smile too early.

“Hey my man. You look like you’re about to tell me you bought a new car.”

“Better than a car.” He stepped in, dropped his bag and turned to face me properly, both hands finding my waist. “I got it, Simi.”

For a second I didn’t understand then I did, and my whole body reacted before my brain caught up.

“You got Junior Partner promotion?”

“I got it.”

I screamed. I actually screamed. I think I would be embarrassed about later, and I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him, he hugged me back so tight like there was more he wanted to confide me in.

“Olamide. Oh my God. Olamide!” I pulled back to look at his face, holding it in both hands like I needed to confirm it was real. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear this? Do you know how many times I’ve prayed about this specific thing?”

“I know.” His hands were still on my waist, and his thumbs were moving slightly, absentmindedly like he was content. He was happy but at the same time, I think sad? or hesistating to tell me something.

I was just looking up at him lost in love, being proud of what this man had achieved. This was a man who had given alot to that firm. Who had been there when it was three lawyers and a rented office and a founder with more ambition than clients. Who had stayed up nights building briefs for cases that weren’t even his to build, because he wanted to understand the whole machine, not just his part of it. I had watched him carry the weight of wanting this so quietly that most people probably assumed he didn’t care that much. I knew better. I had seen what it cost him to act unbothered.

“We have to celebrate. Gosh babe, you could have told me earlier. I could have gotten us something to something to celebrate this, I need to-” as i reached out to my phone

“Simi.”

Something in the way he said my name made me stop. He wasn’t smiling anymore or rather, the smile was still there, but it had gone somewhere far away.

“What?” I said. “What’s wrong?”

He exhaled slowly, and guided me to sit down on the couch beside him, still holding one of my hands between both of his.

“There’s a part of this I haven’t told you yet.”

I felt my stomach do something complicated. “Okay.”

‘‘Babe, for this role, I’d have to relocate to Abuja, where the co-headquarter is at. It would mean me relocating” He hesitated

I sat with that for a second, turning it over, trying to understand its shape. “Okay,” I said again, slower this time. “Soo, for how long? Is it temporary, is it-”

“It’s not temporary. at least for now, it isn’t”

“Oh.” The word came out smaller than I meant it to.

“um, I’ve known for about two weeks,” he said. “They told me during the promotion discussions. I wanted to think it through properly before I said anything to you.’’ yeah, he already decided. I wouldnt lie, a part of me was hurt. I know it wasnt my decision to make but damn, him not telling me before deciding hurt me. because for two weeks, he had been sitting with this enormous thing for two weeks, turning it over privately, the way he turned everything over privately, while I had no idea. That was so completely like him it almost made me want to laugh, except nothing about this felt like laughing anymore.

“So what did you decide?” I asked, even though some part of me had already started bracing for the answer, because I knew him, I knew the particular stillness that came over him when a decision had already been made and there was no longer any use pretending otherwise.

“I decided not to take it.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I turned it down, Simi. I told them yesterday.” God, I felt betrayed.

For a moment I just stared at him.

“You turned the promotion down?”

“Yes.” I got so emotioal. I wanted to cry. I was feeling a rush of different emotions of hurt, betrayal, guilt, I couldnt even my eyes not get teary. He noticed. I didn’t even know what to say.

‘‘Babe’’ he reached out to me “I’m sorry okay but I didn’t make this decision quickly, and I didn’t make it carelessly.”

“why would you make it at all?” I stood up, because sitting suddenly felt impossible, like my body needed to do something with all the feeling that had nowhere to go. “I don’t want to make this about me really. Yes, I know it’s not my decision to make but I feel hurt you didn’t let me know before deciding’’ He looked worried looking through my face, i was trying so much not to break down.

‘‘Babe’’ he called to me

‘‘God, I feel like I’m overreacting right now. Why would you give up something you’ve wanted for years?” I looked at him demanding answers with my heart racing.

He looked at me deciding to answer or not. I could tell he’s worried abiut my reaction and wanted to avoid this “Because I don’t want to build a life somewhere you’re not in it.”

I should have felt something soften in me when he said that. Some part of me did but another part was already spiraling somewhere else entirely, somewhere I wasn’t proud of.

“I’m not doing it like it’s some kind of obligation towards you. I’m doing it because… babe’’ he paused. he breath in and out

‘‘ Simi, it’s what I want. I sat with it and every single time I got to the end of it, the version where I have the title and don’t have you felt like the wrong version.” God, I’ve never heard Olamide sound so selfish like he did. He sounded so firm with his decision, like not telling me was delibrately because he knew I was going to force him to take it regardless. Those statement hurt me. His decision was because he wanted me in the picture but made the decision without me in the picture. I was feeling different things at same time.

I was wrapping my head for what to say.

“So what, you decide to sacrifice yourself for us? You throw away your time of hardwork like it’s nothing?”

“I’m notsacrificing myself. I’m choosing…” I didn’t wait for him to finish

“You’re being selfish.”

The words were out before I understood what I was saying. I heard them land in the room, heavy and wrong, and I saw something move across his face, something worse than anger. A kind of stunned stillness, like I had reached into his chest and taken something out of it.

“I…” I started, already hearing how badly that had come out, already wanting to grab the sentence back out of the air. “Olamide, I didn’t …”

“Selfish.” He repeated the word slowly, like he was testing whether it could possibly be true. “You think I’m being selfish.”

“That’s not what I meant, I…”

‘‘Simi, I..’’ he was reaching for what to say, carefully wanting to say something.

‘‘Babe’’ I called to him reaching for his hands, wanting some physical proof that I hadn’t broken something. He pulled back gently. I felt the ground sinking when he did that. That hurt more than if he had shouted.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, and this time my voice actually broke. “I didn’t mean you were a selfish person. I don’t think that. I don’t think that at all.”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked at the floor, then at the window, anywhere but at me, and I watched him breathe in slowly.

“I need to go,” he said finally.

“Why? Olamide” My voice broke.

“I’m angry at you, Simi” he looked at me directly, and I could tell he was hurt.“I just need a little time to sit with this on my own. That’s all it is.” he sighed and he leaned down and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to my forehead. It wasn’t a grand gesture. It felt almost involuntary, like his body wouldn’t let him leave without doing it, even while the rest of him was clearly still reeling.

Then he was gone, and I stood in my living room alone, replaying the word “selfish” over and over.

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The next two days were felt so long.

I picked up my phone more times than I could count to text him but I couldnt. I considered calling him outright at least four separate times and each time I put the phone down before it could ring.

I went to work, I answered emails. I sat in a meeting about a client onboarding process and heard maybe a third of what was said, because the rest of my brain was still standing in my living room watching him leave.

I kept thinking about what I’d actually meant, underneath the word I’d used. I hadn’t meant that he was selfish as a person. What I meant, I think, was something closer to fear. How can you make a decision this big for me when I don’t even know if I could do the same for you? I didn’t want to be the reason he lost something he had worked for his entire adult life. I didn’t want to wake up one day and become the explanation for his one regret. That statement was a reflection of how I felt myself was.

On the second day, a little after noon, my phone buzzed at my desk. it was Olamide

‘‘Hi babe, Are you free to step outside for a minute?’’

I stared at the message for a full ten seconds before it actually registered. He was here? I hadn’t heard from him in almost two days and now he was just outside? I went outside and I saw him standing near the entrance, and the first thing I noticed was how tired he looked. Not just sleepy-tired, like depleted. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there two days ago, and his shirt, had the slightly rumpled look of someone who had put it on without much attention. He looked like someone who had been carrying something heavy and hadn’t set it down once.

“Hey, babe,” he said tiredly.

“Hey,” I answered quietly.

We stood there for a second in an awkwardness that exists between two people who love each other and are also both exhausted and unsure how to start.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he started. “During work hours, I know you’re probably in the middle of…”

“I’m sorry I called you selfish, Mide.”

It came out of me before he could even finish his sentence, like I’d been holding it for two days waiting for the smallest opening. My eyes were already stinging.

He looked at me for a long moment.

“I know you’re upset with me,” I continued, and my voice started to shake in a way I couldn’t control. “ I’m sorry, I…’’

He pulled me into a hug before I could finish.

feeling his arms around me, whatever I had been holding together for two days came apart completely. I cried into his shoulder, he just held on with one hand moving slowly over my back.

“I hate when we’re like this,” I said against his shirt, “It stresses you’’

“It stresses you more than it stresses me,” he said quietly, near my ear. “I know that and I hate seeing you like this. I hate the thought of seeing you this way. I missed you so much”

‘‘I missed you too’’ I told him.

He pulled back after a moment, just enough to look at me, and used his thumbs to wipe under my eyes, carefully.

“Can we talk properly in the car?” he said.

I nodded, and he took my hand, and we walked to where he’d parked.

Once we were inside, there was a brief silence.

“Babe ” I started.

“Babe ” he said at the exact same time.

We both stopped. For the first time in two days, something like a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and I felt my own face do something similar despite everything.

“You go first,” I said.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began. “The whole two days. I couldn’t really think about anything else.”

“Olamide, I really didn’t mean-”

“I know.” He reached over and rested his hand lightly over mine, just for a second, an assurance that I hadn’t done anything wrong by speaking. “If anyone said that to me, I could careless but babe, it hurt hearing that from you but I thought about again carefully, you weren’t entirely wrong.’’

I stared at him. “What?”

“I didn’t turn down that promotion purely out of some sacrifice for you. I turned it down because I didn’t want to be away from you because I couldn’t picture a version of my life there that felt like anything I actually wanted. That’s not entirely selfless, Simi. That’s me making a decision based on what I need, what I want for myself. It just happens that what I want is you in my everyday life. So, yes. In a sense, it was selfish of me and I’m sorry babe. I’m sorry, I didn’t talk to you about it before deciding when we are it together, that was also selfish of me and I’m aware that hurt you. I’m sorry.” he caressed my hands. I somewhat felt at peace.

“hmm. I think I was scared. Watching you make a decision that big, for me, made me start asking myself something I didn’t want to be asking.”

“What?”

I took a breath. “Whether I could do the same. If it were reversed. If it were me who had to choose between something I’d worked hard for and you.” My voice wavered. “I don’t know the answer, Olamide and not knowing terrified me. It made me feel like I didn’t deserve what you were doing. Like I was taking something from you that I couldn’t even promise I’d give back if the situation were flipped. Calling you selfish..it wasn’t really about you or maybe particially you, since you didnt inform me, so we could decide together.’’ We both chuckled. The tension was eased a bit.

‘‘For real though, It was about me being scared of not measuring up to what you were doing. I said the ugliest word I could find because I didn’t know how to say the actual thing, which is, I don’t want to be the reason you lose something this important. I don’t want you to wake up in five years and resent me for it.”

‘‘Babe’’ He reached over to my face with his hands

“You should never have to measure your love against a decision I made,” he said. “This wasn’t a transaction, Simi. I didn’t turn down that role so you’d owe me something equal in return. What no, never.’’

“But what if -”

“Babe, I love you okay and It’s okay that you don’t know what you’d do in the reverse situation. It’s okay that it scares you. I don’t think anyone really knows what they’d do until they’re standing in it. You dont have to chose me over yourself. I don’t need you to prove anything to me. All I want is for us to keep being honest with each other, the way we’re being right now.’’ He assured me

I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for two days. “I still worry about your promotion, though.”

“I know.” He brought his hands from my face to my hands squeezing them gently. “Let me just tell you what happened at the firm, maybe it’ll ease your mind a little.”

“Okay.”

“The partners weren’t happy I turned it down. I won’t pretend otherwise. They were disappointed, and a couple of them told me so directly. They’d watched me grow at that firm since it was very few of us and a low budget photocopier that ruined every of our documents.’’ I chuckled. He smiled seeing my face lighten up

‘‘So, they expected me to take it.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, the way he always did. “But I sat down with two of the senior partners yesterday, and it wasn’t the conversation I was bracing for. They still want me there. I’m still getting the bonus structure they’d already approved. I’m still being put on some of the accounts they were going to hand me as Junior Partner, just without the title attached for now. It doesn’t feel like they’re holding this against me.”

“So you didn’t lose everything.”

“Not everything, no. I lost a title, for now. That part is real, but I don’t think I’ve lost my place there. I’ve given that firm years, Simi, and I have to believe that counts for something beyond one decision. I think there’ll be another chance, eventually. I could be wrong but that’s what it feels like, honestly but do i regret my decision, NEVER” he emphased firmly.

I studied his face for a long moment, looking for any trace of him saying that just to comfort me. I didn’t find one.

“Okay,” I said finally, quietly. He smiled

“Okay,” he said and I saw his shoulders feel relaxed, like he’d been holding tension there for two days that had only just now let go.

We sat in the car a little longer, not saying much, just letting us be. At some point he reached over and flicked my earring, the way he sometimes did when he wanted to make me laugh without actually saying anything funny, and it worked. I laughed despite everything, a real laugh, the first one in two days.

“There she is,” he said, and the way he looked at me then, I could tell we were going to be alright.

He drove us to get lunch, somewhere near my office that we always joked was better than half the restaurants we’d paid actual money at and before he dropped me back at work. We both got down from the car. he turned to me with a look I recognized, the one he got right before he was about to ask something he already knew the answer to.

“ Can i take you out for dinner this weekend? he asked.

“Yes,” I agreed smiling. he smiled, pecking me on my cheeks before gently pulling me in for a tight hug.

I stayed in his arms for a few seconds longer than I normally would have.

“God, I missed you a lot, babe,” he said, still hugging me in his raspy voice.

“I missed you too, Mide,” I told him. I missed him a whole lottttt.

When he finally pulled away, he looked at me and smiled, and I felt something more at peace.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me back for another quick hug.

I laughed against his chest. “Babeeee.”

“I know. I just missed you alot”

‘‘I’m glad I came here to see you’’ he added

I looked at him for a moment.

“I am glad you came too.” he looked down at me smiling and gave me circles of kisses on my forehead, cheeks, ‘‘Babeee’’ I chuckled, nose and down to my lips. we gently recoiled after a while. we both felt relaxed and at peace with each other.

“I’d come pick you after work.” I nodded

“Okay. See you later.” I said

‘‘See you’’

I walked back into the building and glanced over my shoulder just before the doors closed. He was still standing beside his car, watching me.

He lifted his hand in a small wave.

I waved back. Then the doors closed between us.

Being loved by someone like Olamide did not always feel easy. Sometimes it meant being trusted with the weight of his choices too, and maybe my job was not to make those choices for him or to prove that I would make exactly the same ones. It was simply to be honest enough to tell him if there was anything about the choices we made that scared me and to trust that if the day came when our lives asked us to make another difficult decision, we would sit down and make it together.

I’m still very much single, and I definitely didn’t win any lottery with any man but, BUT! I did make a decision that feels just as exciting to me.

I changed the name of this newsletter publication from A Day in My Life to Life Gives Zero Flip!

A flipping huge win, if you ask me. The old name wasn’t bad. It just giving what I wanted it to give.

When I started this newsletter back in 2022, I genuinely wanted to document my days. I imagined writing little scenarios of my life so that years from now, I could look back and remember what I worried about, what made me laugh, and how ordinary days somehow turned into core memories. That version of me had a plan but you see this version? has different plans.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t actually interested in documenting my days anymore. What fascinated me was everything inside those days like the weird thoughts, the random observations, the crash outs and panic, the lessons life forces on you, and the ridiculous ways adulthood keeps humbling all of me and everyone.

I remember writing about missing a test, lmao. Will I call that a good or a bad day? lol

So now, I am interested in writing the unhinged, the unprovoked, the fictional, and honestly... wherever my mind decides to wander.

So yes, the name changed but more importantly, the direction changed.

Welcome to Life Gives Zero Flip!

Where we’re all just trying to make sense of this rogbodiyan (chaos), one piece at a time.

I’m really glad you’re here.

It’s funny by how some men treats their female friends as in the women they have no romantic interest in, in some funny way.

These same men that will move mountains for a woman they're attracted to, suddenly develop selective amnesia when it comes to the women they call their friends. You're struggling and he's nowhere to be found but the moment you check on him, he appears like NEPA brought light.

He doesn't remember you told him you were sick, doesn't notice when something is clearly off with you but a new girl enters the picture and suddenly he's texting good morning, remembering her favorite color, asking how her day went with the enthusiasm of someone who just discovered emotions for the first time.

I believe the way a man treats the women in his life when there is nothing to gain, no possibility of romance, is who he actually is.

I’m not saying treat your female friends like your girlfriend. Romance and friendship are different. The expectations are different, the intimacy is different, the dynamic is different. I understand that. What I’m saying is simpler than that and somehow still too much to ask.

Treat your female friends like people you value. Like please abeg, I’m just your friend, just be a decent human being towards me.

Check on them, remember what they’re going through and show up when they’re struggling not because you want something but because they matter to you. Be as emotionally present for the women who have known you for long as you are for the woman you just started talking to or you’re romantically involved with. That’s it. That’s the whole ask.

And if you can’t do that, if basic regard for women only switches on when desire is involved, then what you’re telling me is that women, to you, are only worth effort when they are potential. When they stop being potential, they become invisible.

I don’t hold space for that. I don’t hold space for men who need romantic incentive to treat women like they matter. This is not because I’m asking for grand gestures or emotional perfection but because kindness should not be a reward you unlock with attraction. Consideration should not require desire as a prerequisite. Consideration and kindness is basic human decency but it’s sad too because you cannot teach those things.

There’s just this annoyance from being someone’s friend and realizing somewhere along the line that the friendship only flows in one direction. That you’ve been holding space for someone who doesn’t even know what your space looks like and you can’t even be angry about it in peace because “he’s just like that” or “that’s just how men are”

We’ve already established that he knows how to show up. We’ve seen him do it. We’ve watched him be patient and present and attentive and emotionally intelligent the moment a woman catches his eye. So it’s not that he lacks the ability. It’s that he’s decided, consciously or not, that his female friends don’t warrant that version of him. That they don’t deserve the effort, their feelings are not significant enough, their friendship are not valuable enough to activate the parts of him that he reserves for women he finds attractive.

To some men, I feel like when a woman is just a person standing in front of them asking to be seen as a friend, some men genuinely do not know what to do with that. Some men see friendship with women as something they receive, not something they participate in equally. The woman does the work, provides the emotional labor, shows up, checks in, holds space, and he just exists in the friendship collecting the benefits without reciprocating.

Then they wonder why their female friends eventually pull back, why the energy shifts and why the woman who used to check on him every other day has gone quiet. They never connect it to the fact that people, even the most patient and generous ones, eventually stop pouring into things that pour nothing back.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you cannot extend basic kindness, basic regard, basic human decency to the women in your life when romance isn’t involved, especially when romance isn’t involved, then I don’t even understand it at all.

The women in your life who have chosen your friendship, who have known you without wanting anything from you, who have shown up for you simply because they care, they deserve better than to be with the version of you that never tries.

Being kind and showing regards are not things that belong only in romantic relationships. They're just things you show towards people you claim to care about, full stop.

When people say, “We’re just seeing where it goes,” I always wonder how and maybe even more importantly, why? Because why exactly are we seeing where it goes? You’re asking me on dates, we’re intentionally setting aside time to get to know each other, we’re learning about what we both value and what we want out of life.

We're spending hours talking, planning dates, flirting, learning each other, becoming emotionally invested, getting excited to see each other again, and somehow all of that falls under the category of being casual.

We’ve accepted casual dating as part of modern dating culture without asking whether those two words actually belong together because dating, at least to me, has never been about passing time.

The whole point of dating is to find out whether this is someone you can build a future with. Maybe the answer is yes or maybe it’s no. That’s what dating is supposed to reveal. This doesn’t mean every person you date has to become your wife or husband, nor does it mean every relationship is supposed to last forever. Sometimes you realise you’re incompatible, life gets in the way, or you’re simply not right for each other. That’s normal. But if you’ve already decided there is no future and you’re only here for the experience or because you felt stupidly lonely, then I struggle to understand why we’re calling it dating in the first place.

I think what casual dating often tries to do is separate intimacy from responsibility. We want the conversations that last until 2 a.m., the good morning texts, the dates, the affection, the emotional support, the physical intimacy and the comfort of having someone there, but we don’t want the expectations that naturally come with those things. Make it make sense.

People talk about catching feelings as though it’s some avoidable mistake, but caring is the most natural outcome of genuine closeness. Human beings are wired to attach. The more time, attention, vulnerability and consistency you invest in someone, the more likely you are to develop an emotional connection. That’s literally how relationships work.

If you’re asking someone to make room for you in their life, you’re asking for something valuable like their time, their attention and their emotional availability. Every single seconds and minutes someone spends investing in you is time they could have spent building something with someone who actually intends to stay.

That’s an unpopular opinion in today’s dating culture, but I genuinely think the concept of casual dating is a scam. We’ve convinced ourselves that two people can repeatedly share emotional and physical intimacy while remaining completely unaffected by it. Most people can’t. They just get better at pretending they can and maybe that’s why so many “casual” situations end with very real heartbreak.

By the time we settled onto the couch with our plates with the food he brought over and the pastries he watched me bake, it was afternoon already. Mind you, his way of assisting was reaching over to taste cake batter before it hit the pan, and I'd swat his hand away, and he'd just smile, unbothered, and do it again ten minutes later.

So we settled as we watched some old Nollywood come playing. His arm found its way around me somewhere between scenes, and I curled into his side, my legs tucked under me, his fingers absently tracing slow, unhurried patterns against my shoulder.

I don’t remember what we were laughing at when my phone buzzed. I only remember glancing at the screen and seeing Tinu’s name (Olamide’s younger sister), and smiling before I’d even opened the message.

‘‘Guess who’s in your area? I have a few minutes before my event starts, can I stop by and say hi??’’

I turned my head toward Olamide, who hadn’t moved, his eyes still on the TV, unbothered as ever. “Your sister’s close by,” I said. “She wants to say hi.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, “She has a way of finding us on our quiet days.”

I laughed softly. “You’re complaining?”

He glanced at me, something warm and amused flickering behind his eyes. “No,” he said. “Just an observation.” one could tell he acknowledged his time with me and held it dear to his heart and didn’t love sharing but he never made a scene out of it

“She’ll only stay a few minutes,” I said, already typing back a reply.

He nodded, unbothered, and let it go. Tinu arrived not long after, breezing in with that jovial kind energy of hers. She had a big basket, full of fruits. God knew, I had had in my mind to restock. It came just at the right time and it was so nice of her. o

“For you,” she said handing it over to me. “Because I refuse to visit anyone empty-handed, it’s against my wish.” She turned to her brother, who had risen slightly from the couch, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before dropping onto the armchair across from us, tucking her legs beneath her like she planned on staying much longer than the few minutes she’d promised. “Relax, relax, I’m not staying to third-wheel your whole Saturday. I have an event nearby, and my Bolt is already on its way. I just couldn’t be in the area and not come see my favourite people.’’ yes, i told her Olamide was here with me

“You always say that,” Olamide said, his voice mild, but there was a softness in it.

“Because it’s always true,” she shot back, grinning, before turning her attention fully to me. “How’s he been treating you? Be honest, I won’t tell him.”

“I’m right here,” Olamide said quietly.

“I know,” Tinu said, not even looking at him, “that’s the fun part.”

I laughed, shaking my head, watching the two of them fall into the easy rhythm they always did, her teasing, him letting her, both of them so clearly fond of each other that even their bickering felt like affection.

We settled into an easy conversation, Tinu recounting some chaos from the event she was organizing, complete with impressions of a difficult client that had Olamide’s mouth twitching into the smallest smile.

It was somewhere in the middlr of the conversation, the three of us nursing our zobo, sunlight slanting lower through the window, that Tinu tilted her head at us with a look I knew meant she was about to ask something she’d clearly been sitting on.

“Okay, sooo,” she said, drawing the words out slowly, “I know the version of how you two met. I know you two met at the Tech Conference I part organised which you voluntarily led the media team for, blah blah blah, I’ve heard it recited like scripture a hundred times.” She waved a hand. “But nobody’s ever actually told me the story. Like, what happened? What was the moment? who saw who first or talked to who first, like i need the teaaa, you know”

I smiled, feeling that familiar warmth rise in my chest the day i met Olamide,. “ So, I lost my bag,” I said. “I put it down somewhere and completely forgot where. I was in a full-blown panic when I saw this random tall guy holding it, patiently waiting for the owner to come get it.” I glanced toward Olamide, who was watching me with quiet attention, the way he always did when I told this story, like he was hearing it for the first time even though he’d lived it. “That was it. That was the first time I saw him.”

I expected the small, familiar nod he always gave at this part. Instead, he was quiet for a moment longer than usual, his gaze steady, thoughtful.

“ Actually babe, That wasn’t the first time,” he said finally, his voice even, unhurried, the way it always was, but there was something careful underneath it now, something he’d clearly been holding onto.

I blinked. “hm, What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t the first time I saw you,” he said. “It was the first time you saw me.”

Tinu sat up slightly, her drink forgotten in her hand. “Wait. What?”

I turned fully toward him, something in my chest tightening with a curiosity I didn’t have words for yet. “Olamide.”

He held my gaze, calm as ever, though something behind his eyes had softened, gone somewhere private. “The week before the event,” he said slowly. “The volunteer onboarding, the training sessions… yh, those times” He paused, “I was there. I mean, I supported Tinu by sponsoring the event she was part of, so i just had to be there for moral support and all. I saw you during that week. You didn’t notice me, there was no reason you would have anyways, but I did.”

The room had gone still. Even Tinu, who rarely stayed quiet for long, seemed to be holding her breath.

“I watched you the whole week,” he continued, his voice was quiet, you could beg for him to not stop talking. it was so subtle. “The way you led that team, and the way you always tied and retied your lanyard when thinking. How you laughed with your whole face. it was so admirable and the way you made sure everyone did their part, even when you were clearly exhausted yourself. babe, i could go on and on. I admired you long before you ever knew I existed.”

I sat there, stunned, my mouth slightly open, trying to fold this new information into a story I thought I’d known by heart for years. Tinu let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head at her brother like she couldn’t quite believe he’d been sitting on this for so long without saying a word.

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Her phone buzzed then, breaking the moment. She glanced down at it and groaned. “That’s my Bolt. Of course. Of course this happens right when it’s getting good.” She stood, gathering her things quickly, but paused to press a kiss to my forehead and squeeze Olamide’s shoulder on her way past. “You better finish telling her everything,” she said to him, pointing a warning finger. “I mean it.” Then, to me, softer, “Love you, babe. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, and the apartment folded back into its familiar quiet with just Olamide and I.

I settled beside him again, angled so we were facing each other, my knees against his. The words he’d said were still sitting somewhere in my chest, unfinished.

“babeee, So all that week,” I said , “you just... watched. You never said anything to me? why” I asked excitedly wanting to hear the tea too

He was quiet for a moment, the way he always was before he answered anything that mattered. “I almost did. A few times.”

“Almost.”

“I told myself I was being shy.” A small pause. “But that wasn’t really it.”

“What was it, then?”

“I didn’t want our first conversation to happen because I forced it into existence,” he said. “If I walked up to you that week, it would have been because I made it happen, not because it was supposed to happen. I wanted to wait for something real.”

I stared at him with full admiration “So you just... waited.”

“I did.”

“Until I lost my bag.”

He smiled then, that small, contained thing that never quite reached full size but always meant everything. “I wouldn’t say I waited for you to lose your bag.”

I burst out laughing. “That sounds even worse.”

He laughed too, low and quiet, shaking his head at himself. “I know.”

The laughter settled between us slowly.

“But when I found your bag, and figured it was you who own it” he said, “I remember thinking, this is probably the only opportunity I’ll get.”

“So you were not going to waste it,” I finished for him, quietly.

He nodded.

I sat with that for a moment. He continued.

‘‘and babe, I don’t know if it’s okay to bring it up now but anytime i think about it, it still gets me bothered,” he said

Something in the way he said it made me go still.

“What do you mean?”

He looked at me for a long moment before he answered, like he was deciding, even now, whether this was his to say. “There was a day during that week” He paused. “I saw you crying.”

My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

“In the sponsors boardroom,” he continued. “You were alone. The door was cracked open. I was wondering who was in there and I didn’t mean to see it but I did.”

“You never told me this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know if it was mine to bring up,” he said. “No. It wasn’t my place. You didn’t know I was there, and whatever it was, it wasn’t something I wanted to make about myself by mentioning it.

I sat there, letting the memory rise slowly.

“That was the day Toke called me,” I said slowly, the pieces settling. Toke was my best friend. she had also been living abroad with her husband.

He nodded, waiting, letting me get there on my own.

“ She was six months pregnant. We were all so excited, planning little things, imagining what the baby would look like, arguing over name, you know just being joyous” My voice thinned. “She called me that morning. I could barely understand her at first, she was crying so hard and then she told me. They’d lost the baby.” I was so scared.

Olamide reached for my hand.

“I didn’t know what to do with myself,” I continued. “I went into that boardroom because I didn’t want anyone to see me like that in the middle of training. I didn’t even know how i got there. i was just panicking trying to find myself a quiet place and just went there.’’ he looked so worried why I talked.

‘‘I kept apologizing to her on the phone, over and over, for something that wasn’t even mine to apologize for. I just didn’t know what else to say. My chest hurt so much I thought something was physically wrong with me.” tears lingered in my eyes

“I remember,” he said softly. “I remember thinking I’d never seen anyone cry like that. Like it was coming from somewhere much deeper than whatever had just happened.”

I wiped at my eyes, the memory still tender even now, almost two years now. “I tried to hold myself together for the rest of the week. I thought I was doing okay. Looking back, I wasn’t really present most of those days.” I let out a small laugh. “That’s probably why I lost my bag at the actual event. I was still somewhere else in my head, even weeks later. I was fine but not exactly. You came into my life, just when i needed the most”

His thumb moved slowly over my knuckles, grounding, the way it always did. ‘‘but now you know why calls with Toke sometimes always take forever and I clearly don’t joke with my godson’’

‘‘Chum chum’’ Olamide joked.

‘‘Chum chum’’ i repeated chortlingly. That’s the pet name we call Toke’s baby when we’re on a call with her or trying to play with him onscreen and he is not even a year yet but you can tell, he loves to play alot.

“Babe, there’s something else too, something i find funny” I said, a memory surfacing slowly, “After I got off the phone, when I left the boardroom, someone stopped me in the hallway and handed me a small gift. I wasn’t in any state to even register what it was. I just put it in my bag and never looked at it again.” My eyes widened as the thought fully arrived. “It’s still in my room. I never opened it.”

He half smiled.

“That was me,” he said

I stared at him. “What?”

“That was me,” he repeated, calm as ever, “I didn’t know what had happened. I only knew what I’d seen, and I couldn’t just walk away and pretend I hadn’t. So I found something small, and I made sure it reached you before you left for the day”

I got up without another word, walking quickly to my room, pulling open drawers I hadn’t touched in what felt like years, until my fingers finally closed around a small box tucked at the very back. I brought it to the couch and sat beside him, my hands unsteady as I opened it.

Inside was a small keyholder, a single word engraved across the front.

Breathe. Beside it was a folded note that read

I hope this finds you on a better day. If it doesn’t, I hope it reminds you that better days still come. Take care.

“Babe,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“I didn’t know your name yet,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know anything about you, really. I only knew you looked like someone who needed reminding that things get better. So I found a way to get it to you before you left for the day.”

I laughed, tears slipping down my face, shaking my head slowly at him, at everything he’d carried without a word for so long until now.

“Thank you, Olamide” I said. “For that day. For every day since.”

He pulled me into him without answering, his arms settling around me the way they always did. I stayed there for a while, my cheek against his chest, letting myself be held, thinking about a keyholder that had sat in the back of a drawer for years, waiting for me to be ready to open it.

God, how I love being loved by Olamide. I never hesitate to thank God for this man, always.

The moment felt so little, yet felt like everything.

Who knew this day would come, that I'd finally get to know the man I always thought we first saw and met each other on that day, had seen me long before I ever saw him. Is God not good?

So, this is not a straight, clean, or direct path from you to them. The string ties itself in knots and that is the part the theory does not hide from and I respect it for that. It does not make it look as if the fate of someone is a beautiful thing. It does not promise you a clean path or perfect timing or that the people meant for you will arrive exactly when you need them, exactly as you imagined, without detour or delay. It is just the promises that the string holds. That no matter how knotted it gets, what is meant to find you will find you.

I like this theory because it exposes impatient people. It shows how we are impatient people living in an impatient world and patience is perhaps the most difficult thing the red string asks of us because fate takes time to manifest.

Some of the most significant relationships of a person’s life arrive late. After you don chop eba chop, chop eba. After you have made peace, or tried to, with the possibility that maybe some things are just not meant for you, that is when then it arrives like a thief in the night.

That is when you’ll understand the value of waiting.

If you look at some situations or relationships per say, you just wonder. Like how some connections survive things they were never supposed to survive. Distance, lack of communication from both parties, you know some certain circumstances could have ended it but it didn’t. What survives distance and every reason it shouldn’t have survived is something else entirely. It is the string holding through everything, refusing to break even when everything around it did.

I think about all the encounters in my life that felt beyond my control. The ones I did not choose but stumbled into. The ones that happened despite every circumstance suggesting they shouldn’t have. The timing that should have been wrong and wasn’t. The paths that crossed when by every reasonable calculation they had no business crossing.

These are something you cannot intentionally plan. You cannot engineer them or manufacture them or make them happen on your will. They arrive on their own schedule, in their own way, answering to something larger than any individual decision either person made. That is what makes them feel like fate.

I feel like this theory also provides a stance against our own free will. Like maybe some of the most significant relationships in our lives are predetermined, as in we don’t truly choose who enters our lives. No matter how much we resist, walk away, or try to change the outcome, the people we’re destined to meet will eventually find us. If that’s true, then our lives may be shaped by fate more than by choice.

BUT, I also still think the theory does not entirely dismiss our own free will. If anything, it shifts where our freedom lies. So, we may not have control over who crosses our path, but we do have control over what we do once they arrive.

We can decide to choose whether to hold on or let go, whether to love or leave, whether to learn from the connection or ignore it. So, fate can introduce the people we’re meant to meet, but free will determines the story we write with them.

I’d hold your hands when I tell you never hesitate to pay attention to how someone loves you, not what they say about their love towards you. It says something or maybe a lot about who they are.

The way you love is not separate from who you are. How do I explain it so clearly, oh my God. The way you love is not something you switch on in romantic situations and switch off everywhere else. Nope.

It bleeds into everything, every single thing that revolves around you. It bleeds into how you treat a friend who is struggling, how you show up for people who cannot give you anything back. It bleeds into whether you are present in a conversation or physically there while your mind is somewhere else entirely or whether you check in or wait to be checked on.

It bleeds into whether you consider people or just feel things for them without the consideration ever translating into action.

Love is not just the feeling. Love is what you do with the feeling and what you do with it tells everything one needs to know about the kind of person that you are.

You can hide or change a lot about yourself for public consumption, you can be charming and well spoken in public and nobody has to know what is actually happening underneath all of that. People do it every day. To some degree, we are all managing the version of ourselves that the world gets to see but love will expose you every time, lol.

The way you love is not something you can try to perform forever or something. Well maybe in the beginning when everything is intentional and you are still deciding how much of yourself to show, you can manage it. You can fool yourself and fool them but eventually, it slowly reveals itself.

Love asks things of you on days when you have nothing left to give and it is in those ugly moments that who you actually are shows up. Your partner will just be looking at you in shock like, so na like this you be! Lmao! Na this kind person ah dey date be this! Chai.

So the thing is, it could be a good reveal or a bad one. A person who is selfish at their core will love selfishly. This is not because they woke up and decided to make love about themselves. Nope.

It is because selfishness is not a NEPA switch you turn off when you enter a relationship. It is in you already. It just doesn’t automatically leave you just because you’re dating someone or claim you love someone. Hana, No. Consciously or not, it will show.

Basically what I’m trying to say is you cannot love generously if being generous is not who you are.

A person who is truly and deeply afraid will love from that fear without knowing it. The fear will push people away, it will self-sabotage the good things because good things have always come with an expiry date and it feels smarter to end it before it ends you.

A person who has never been shown consideration will love inconsiderately. The person will hurt you in ways they genuinely do not see because nobody ever stopped to show them what seeing someone actually looks like.

This is not about being a good or bad person. Most people are carrying old things, repeating old patterns, loving in the same way they were loved and the wounds they never healed until they were old enough to question whether it was the right version but your love still reflects you. Even when you don’t mean it to or when you are trying your best. The reflection is always there.

Think about the people who have loved you and what their love felt like. The one whose love felt like walking on eggshells, what does that tell you about who they were inside?

The one whose love came and went with their mood changing like the weather, what does that tell you about their relationship with consistency?

The one who loved you but could never quite put you first, what does that tell you about their priorities?

Also ask yourself, what does the way you love say about you?

Being in the bottom has its own clarity where you’re completely broken and at least you know where you stand or at the top where life and everything is easy but you see being in the middle, omo. Everything is happening to you but you don’t even know why and when it will end.

It’s like being in a space between things will get better and something you cannot handle anymore. It’s like a state where you are not okay but you are not destroyed either. Where you are surviving but surviving feels like the bare minimum and you’re not sure how much longer you can call it enough.

That state is the one I want to talk about.

One moment you wake up and something in you genuinely believes that it is going to be okay, that you are going to be okay, that all of the struggle, the uncertainty, the days that feel like they were designed specifically to break you is going to end someday.

You realize you are on the other side of yourself wondering how much more you are supposed to carry or how many more mornings you are supposed to wake up and choose to keep going when keeping going has start to feel really exhausting with nowhere else to go.

You keep asking the question that you’re also tired of asking,-when?

When will you wake up to observe a normal day that doesn’t require you to overthink the day within yourself before it even begins? When will the mood swing stopppp?

When will you go to bed the same person you were when you woke up. When will you stop pretending like you are fine when you are not? You and I don’t have an answer to these and just the thought of it exhausts me.

Just not knowing when all this suffering and exhaustion ends or not knowing if it will end is sickening to the mind. The waking up every day in the middle of something that has no clear exit and doing it anyway because there is nothing else to do can slowly ruin the mind

We’re left with just trying.

We don’t know yet if trying is enough but it is all there is. So we carry it and we keep going and we don’t even know where going leads but somehow, for now, that has to be okay.

‘’Find someone who loves you and you’ll be fine.’’ That is a big fat lie from the bottom pit of the deepest hell! Nobody told us that love is just the beginning. That Love is necessary but nowhere near sufficient. That you could have all the love in the world and still have nothing if everything else is missing.

If you like, rely on love alone, wo, you will shege banza! Your body will tell you.

Love does not teach you how to communicate with someone when you are both hurting and both convinced you are right. Love does not close the gap between two people who want fundamentally different things from life. Love does not create trust. It needs trust to survive, which is a very different thing. Love does not make someone show up consistently. Love does not make someone respect you. Love does not make someone consider you.

Talking about consideration…. consideration is the one nobody talks about enough. The one which I love. Oh my God! Consideration! What an interesting concept of love.

You can love someone and never once consider them. You can love someone and still make every decision from the center of yourself without ever stepping outside of it. You can love someone and be so consistently thoughtless about what you say or do for them.

If you consistently lack consideration for someone you claim to love, it raises the question of how deeply are you valuing them? No now, just think about it?

This is what happens when you rely on just love alone. It becomes just a feeling that doesn’t translate into safety, kindness or care or anything that makes you worthy of being with that person or a a human being.

Imagine someone tells you, ‘’I love you’’ but their words, behavior, mindset and everything suggests something else. Yuck!

I’ve said love alone is never enough, so what is enough then?

Love plus effort, plus respect, kindness, plus consideration and everything good in between. The kind that shows up without being asked, the kind that you don’t have to remind that you exists. Love plus two people who don’t just feel something but actively, repeatedly, on any day choose to show up for it.

Love is where everything starts but it doesn’t end there.

The grief of loving someone that still fell apart is its own specific kind of grief because you can’t point to where it went wrong the way you can when someone was cruel or dishonest or simply the wrong person from the beginning. Love can blind. Wo, it will blind your two eyes, all the rubbish you’re supposed to see, love wouldn’t let you see it.

We need to make peace with the fact that love can be genuine and still be insufficient like I said. That something can feel so right and still be so wrong. Following your heart, fully and faithfully, does not guarantee you arrive somewhere good. Use your head or else, you’ll cry.

Love is not nothing. It matters and is still one of the most important things that exist. It just cannot do everything we have been asking it to do.

The sooner we understand that, the sooner we stop being devastated when something full of love still falls apart.

"That's nothing. When I was your age…’ "You think that's hard?’’ "I didn't even have one naira."

Haba?! Excuse me?

I thought we were having a conversation. Is there somewhere they're distributing medals to who suffered the most? Suffering has become a competition.

These days, it feels like everybody wants to prove they've suffered more than the next person. You will share a difficult experience, and instead of empathy, you get a history lesson about how much worse someone else had it. As if pain only counts when it reaches a certain level.

Is it by force to compare struggles before they can be acknowledged? I genuinely want to know.

The funny thing is that most of us are not even asking for solutions. We're not asking people to fix our problems. We are just expressing how difficult something feels. That's all.

Yet somehow, in every conversation, you're expected to abandon your feelings because somebody else had it worse but that's not how pain works.

There will always be someone who has it worse, always. No matter what you're going through right now, somebody somewhere has experienced something more painful. So, does that mean your experience doesn't matter?

Imagine telling someone who broke their leg not to cry because somebody else broke both legs. Is that not very funny?

Somebody having it worse does not magically make my experience easy and I have lost count of how many times I've expressed something difficult and immediately felt stupid for bringing it up. Should I wait until my condition gets worse before I'm allowed to talk about it?

We've become so obsessed with hardship that some people wear their suffering like a badge of honor. They should well done. Best in suffering. Good for you oh. I'm glad you made it through.

But why can't your experience simply be your experience? Why must it invalidate mine? Life was hard and life is still hard. What bothers me is the need to constantly remind others that their pain isn't enough and that they haven't earned the right to complain. If you suffered the way you claim you did, shouldn't that make you more compassionate? If you look at it, sometimes all that people need is simple compassion.

It is not every conversation that needs an invitation to prove that you suffered more.

And even if you did, should we apologize because our lives weren't as difficult as yours?

"Na me suffer pass." Okay and so flipping what?

The goal of life should not be proving who suffered the most. The goal should be making sure fewer people have to suffer the way you did. Anything else is just you looking for publicity to feed your trauma to.

You would look at them and feel behind like everyone had received some divine instructions on how to make their life somehow better or how to live life correctly and somehow somewhere you missed it.

Now you're here thinking you are the only one fumbling around trying to find it in the dark.

Lol. In case you are not aware, they are fumbling too. Everything you see, or you hear is not how it exactly is.

We are all, every single one of us, trying to figure out the same things. How to be loved without losing ourselves, how to want things without letting the wanting consume us, how to show up for the people who matter when we can barely show up for ourselves, how to keep going on the days when keeping going feels like the hardest thing anyone has ever asked of us and the list goes on and on and on.

We just do it quietly, behind closed doors, in the middle of the night, in conversations we have only with ourselves and then we walk back out into the world looking like we have zero life problems and worries.

We are hard on ourselves in a way that we would never be on anyone we truly truly loved. If a friend called you and said they don't know what they're doing and that they feel behind or thought they'd be further in life than they are now and they're scared because it is like they're running out of time.

You wouldn't honestly tell them the truth even if that is what it truly seems. You would somehow want to encourage them and ensure whatever you're telling them comes from a place of love.

You would let them know they're doing better than they think. You would honestly let them know how nobody has it figured out and the ones who look like they do are just more quiet about how confused they are.

You would be kind with your response and then you would hang up the phone and return to being ruthless with yourself. You can imagine.

Like the grace you give so freely to everyone else is somehow not available to give yourself. Very funny and omo, it's exhausting.

Trying looks different on everybody and that is the part we forget. For some people trying looks like just getting out of bed when they are tired.

For some people trying looks like staying in those annoyingly hard conversation instead of going quiet, staying in that city, or staying in that job even when it feels uncertain.

For some people trying looks like leaving which takes just as much as staying does, sometimes even more.

For some people trying looks like being in a room full of people and not letting anyone see that inside of you, you're ruined, you are broken or so tired.

Most of these come unnoticed but it's still trying and it still counts.

I want us to be gentle with each other but not in a way that excuse rubbish please abeg. Most of us are loving people with the same love we were shown. Most of us are protecting ourselves from the same things that once broke us while most of us are doing the best we can with what we were given and what we were given was not enough, so we just have to keep trying and trying and trying.

I think about this more than I should. I think about all the conversations I let die or the ones they ended first and I didn't have any atom of strength in me to revive. The ones I didn't start because something about them felt no efforts.

I think about the ones I blocked and I've blocked people for more than you'd imagine on countless reason. I've blocked for something that wasn't even wrong exactly, but just not right enough.

We were told you'll know when you meet them and maybe that's true. Maybe it is but I think that idea has done quiet damage to a lot of us. Why? we've been walking around waiting for a feeling so obvious it can't be missed, and in the meantime we've been dismissing everything that doesn't arrive with that kind of certainty.

He texts back too slow. You ghost and block. (Honestly, a reasonable person will do this. I wouldn't judge this one. Please ghost and block their ass.)

He's funny but not in the way you imagined. You ghost and block(oh I'm so judging you). If something feels slightly off and you can't name it. You press the block button. (Tor, me I don't know oh)

And we call this knowing our worth. We call it not settling. Which, yes, there are people we are absolutely right to walk away from. I'm not arguing against that but I think somewhere between protecting ourselves and trusting our gut we start to use both as covers for something else entirely. Something that looks a lot like fear.

I'm not saying lower your standards. I'm not saying give everyone a chance or stay in things that feel wrong because what if they are the one.

I think about all the people I didn't give enough time to. All the ones I assessed in a moment and fled away and never looked at again. I wonder how many of them I was wrong about. Not all of them, maybe not most of them but some of them. Maybe one of them or maybe none cause I agree there are mad men out there. So I don't regret a single shit.

I don't have an answer or anything motivational to say. I just have the question that started this and hasn't left me since.

The question of whether the person you're supposed to find is still out there or whether you already walked past each other in opposite directions on some ordinary day and neither of you knew. What if he came and went and neither of you knew what it was supposed to be?

Maybe he's still coming, maybe the story isn't written yet and all the ones you and I turned away were just practice and none of them were the point Or maybe love is less about finding the right person and more about being present enough, and open enough to recognize something real when it's standing in front of you.

So, maybe there's actually not a soulmate out there or whatever.

Why wouldn’t you want to fall in love with someone who already sees and knows you? I mean the real you, the annoying you, the emotional and complicated you.

If there’s one thing I know for sure now, being in love with your friend is one of the softest things that can ever happen to you and that's exactly what happened to Olamide and I

No matter how many times I tell our story, I still feel like people think we met and immediately became lovers. Oh please, that man suffered because our story was such a slow burn that even I got frustrated at myself sometimes.

I'd always say this, when we first met, I genuinely did not think anything serious would come out of it. Yes, he was kind. Yes, he was attractive. Yes, there was something about him that felt calm and intentional but love? Me and love like this, go left, go right.

And meanwhile this man had already decided I was apparently the love of his life. What nobody tells you about falling for your friend is that it doesn’t happen so obvious at first and this is so particularly annoying because Olamide liked me first. He fell first and harder.

We became friends first, I mean real friends and not those friendships where one person is just pretending while waiting for a relationship, no.

He was genuinely my friend.

I don’t know how to explain it but Olamide always had this calm way of speaking that made even nonsense conversations feel soft. One time, we stayed on a call for hours talking about random things, embarrassing moments and things we wanted for ourselves and at some point, I remember asking him,

“What’s one thing people misunderstand about you?” There was a small pause before he answered quietly,

“That because I’m calm, I don’t feel things deeply.”

I understood it immediately because even then, there was already something deeply intentional about him. The way he listened and the way he paid attention, God.

The closer we became, the more terrified I got. It was not because I didn’t love him because God knows I already did. It was because I loved our friendship too much. 

The scary part of falling in love is realizing someone has become so important to you that losing them in any form would destroy you. That was my fear because before Olamide became someone I loved romantically, he was already home to me emotionally and I kept thinking that

What if we date and ruin this? What if one day we stop talking? What if love changes everything between us?

Luckily, he never pressured or ever rushed me.

He never made me feel guilty for being scared and gave me space while still loving me loudly through friendship. I think that’s what made me fall even harder honestly.

That evening, after talking for almost two hours inside the car, we both got out, as he dropped me off from work, neither of us wanted to say goodbye yet.

I remember looking at him while he spoke and suddenly feeling overwhelmed by how much I loved this man not just romantically but I loved his heart, his gentleness, his patience with me as everything and guess what? It terrified me.

I became unusually quiet afterwards and immediately, he noticed.

“What’s going on in your head?” he asked softly.

I laughed nervously. “Nothing.” “Hm.” That soft suspicious hm again giving, he knows I'm lying. I looked away.

Then suddenly my eyes started burning.

“Simi?”

I shook my head quickly but the tears came anyway and once they started, I genuinely couldn’t stop. His expression changed immediately with concern everywhere.

He moved closer without hesitation.

“Hey,” his voice softened instantly. “Talk to me.”

I cried harder and finally, I said it.

“I think I’m in love with you, Olamide.” My voice broke badly.

Then I shook my head immediately through tears.

“No… I don’t think it.”

I looked directly at him.

“I am.”

God, who dig this pit for me eh. Me, God, love and this man, forever.

The way this man looked at me after that? Like his entire chest was full, like hearing those words from me meant everything. His eyes carried so much softness it almost made me cry harder but I still continued.

“I love what we have,” I admitted shakily. “And I love you so much, Mide.” His breathing changed slightly but he stayed quiet, listening and waiting for me.

“But I’m scared,” I cried. “I’m so scared something will happen one day and we’ll lose this.” My chest hurt badly.

“I’m scared we’ll date and break up and ruin our friendship and…” My voice completely cracked.

“...and I don’t think I can survive losing you in any way.” That was it.

The moment I said that, he immediately pulled me into his chest. He was so firm, certain and protective, like there was nowhere else I belonged.

I broke down completely against him, sobbing into his chest while his arms wrapped tightly around me and God, his heartbeat. It was beating so fast against my cheek. One of his hands moved gently through my hair while the other held me even closer.

“You really think loving you would make me careless with you?” he whispered softly. I cried harder against him.

“Simi,” he said quietly, emotionally. “You’re my best friend first.”

“And nothing changes that.”

I could hear the emotion in his voice too now. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he admitted softly. “Too long to rush you and too long to pressure you.”

I cried quietly while he held me.

“And if you’re scared,” he whispered, “then let’s be scared together, hm.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He said it with so much certainty that for the first time, I actually believed love did not have to feel unsafe. Sometimes the love of your life first arrives as your friend and I think that’s the best kind of love there is.

And maybe that’s why loving him still scares me sometimes. This doesn't come from doubting him though. It's realizing when something becomes this precious to you, fear naturally follows it around quietly.

There are days life gets exhausting, work drains both of us and some days one of us becomes quieter than usual. There are moments we sit beside each other and I can tell something is weighing on him heavily even when he says, “I’m okay.” and there are moments he looks at me the same way too.

No matter how much love exists between two people, we are still human beings first. We still get tired and still carry fears we don’t always know how to explain immediately.

There are days I still panic internally thinking what if life changes us someday? What if stress creates distance? What if we wake up one day and things feel different? Like I mentioned, I honestly think that fear comes from how deeply I love him because losing someone you love romantically hurts but losing someone who is also your best friend?.That kind of loss would wreck you in ways you can’t even explain.

So it’s completely okay if people choose not to date their friends. Honestly, I understand it.

Different people have experienced love differently. Different people carry different kinds of heartbreak and sometimes, protecting a friendship feels safer than risking it becoming something else and that’s valid.

You see me? I fell in love with my best friend and till now, I still think that’s one of the safest things that has ever happened to me.

Olamide is not just a man I romantically love. He’s my home and peace of mind.

In the middle of all those fears, Olamide still has this way of making everything feel okay again.

So, I think I’ll keep falling in love with him over and over again for a very long time till forever.

You still wake up early, reply emails, laugh when people joke with you and still answer you're fine when people ask how you're doing but deep down, you know something inside you has been running on empty for a while.

That was how life had started feeling lately and the worst part was that nothing was exactly wrong. Work was fine, my relationship was fine and Olamide was still…Olamide.

My man was still sending me random food deliveries because he felt I forgot to eat. Lol. He was still calling me in the middle of the day just to ask if I had rested my eyes from staring at screens too long. He was still reminding me softly to drink water often like I was a stubborn child. He still loves me gently but I noticed him too.

Maybe because I had become so used to him that even the smallest shift in him never escaped me. He sighed more these days and sometimes his smiles came a second late, like he was mentally returning from somewhere exhausting and yet, he still showed up.

I knew Olamide and how deeply he carried things without wanting to burden people and it bothered me seeing him that way.

There was one evening he came to my apartment after work with food he had made himself. We were sitting on the floor eating while I ranted about a difficult client when I suddenly realized he had gone unusually quiet..I stopped talking.

“Mide?”

“Hm?” he looked up immediately.

“You zoned out.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “Sorry babe.” and then he squeezed my hand gently in assurance

Another day, he forgot what he was saying halfway through a sentence during a phone call and just laughed softly at himself.

“My brain is exhausted,” he admitted quietly.

I remember my chest tightening hearing it.

“You’ve been resting at all?”

“Try

ing to.” I didn’t push him to say anything but God knows I wanted to. I wanted to ask,

What’s been going on in his head lately and

Why he looked emotionally far away sometimes. I want to know if he was okay

But I know how overwhelming it feels when you are already mentally drowning and someone keeps asking you to explain feelings you havent even fully processed yourself. So instead, I stayed quiet.

I checked on him more and prayed for him quietly when I could.

Spiritually, I hadn’t been myself either. At first, I blamed stress, then work, then exhaustion but after a while, excuses stopped working. I had not prayed properly in weekss.

I would open my Bible app and close it again minutes later. Sometimes worship songs didn't really move me because they reminded me how disconnected I felt. Some nights I’d lay in bed thinking, I should pray before sleeping but then I’d fall asleep halfway through scrolling TikTok.

And every morning, guilt griped me. I felt so bad, lol.

That Wednesday at work, I was helping my coworker Matilda, arrange campaign documents before a presentation when she suddenly dropped the file in her hand and sighed heavily.

“I think I’m spiritually exhausted,” she muttered. I looked at her immediately. She laughed awkwardly after saying it, like she regretted speaking out loud.

“No seriously,” she continued quietly. “I’ve not prayed properly in weeks. I don’t even read my Bible anymore. I try to and I just… close it back.”

My hands paused over the papers because every single thing she was saying sounded painfully familiar.

Matilda leaned against the desk tiredly.

“I even feel guilty during church services now. Like everybody else is connecting with God except me.”

Something inside me cracked a little hearing that because me too felt that way. God, me too.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to respond normally.

“Maybe you’re overwhelmed,” I said softly.

She looked at me carefully.

“I don’t think God disappears because you’re tired.”

The words left my mouth gently, but they hit me harder than they hit her cause it felt was talking to myself too.

She frowned slightly. “You really think so?”

I nodded slowly.

“I think sometimes life becomes so loud that you don’t realize when you start disconnecting from yourself.”

She stared at me for a few seconds before smiling faintly.

“That’s actually comforting.”

I smiled back too, but immediately she walked away, my chest started hurting because I realized I had become very good at giving people advice I myself was unable to follow.

The rest of the day felt emotionally strange.

I couldn’t focus properly.

Even during lunch break, while my colleagues laughed over some office gossip about two coworkers secretly dating each other, I found myself zoning out.

At some point, I opened my phone and scrolled through old messages between me and Olamide.

Just random messages oh him reminding me to eat, sending voice notes, and calling me his baby unprovoked. My chest tightened suddenly because I missed him.

Like we were both quietly drowning beside each other while still trying to smile through it.

By the time I got to his apartment that evening, Lagos traffic had already drained the little energy left in me.

He opened the door almost immediately after I knocked.

“Babe,” he smiled softly and there it was again. That warm smile but you can tell he was tired.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead gently before letting me in.

“You look exhausted,” he murmured.

I laughed weakly as I slipped off my shoes.

“You don’t look any better.”

He smiled again, softer this time.

“Fair.”

The apartment smelled like food already. His entire space felt calm in a way that immediately relaxed my chest. I followed him into the kitchen.

He stood by the cooker stirring the sauce slowly.

“You cooked?” I asked.

“Hm,” he nodded softly. “I figured you probably hadn’t eaten properly today.” Even while being exhausted, he still thought about me first. I love this man.

I walked closer and leaned against the counter beside him quietly.

For some seconds, neither of us spoke.

Just the sound of the spoon against the pot then I noticed him pause briefly.

His hand rested against the counter while he exhaled slowly like his mind was carrying too much at once.

My chest tightened immediately. He noticed me staring and looked over.

“What?” he asked softly. I shook my head quickly. “Nothing.” but it wasn’t nothing. I was worried about him. I was terribly worried and somehow, I had a feeling he was worried about me too.

He scooped a little sauce into a spoon and held it toward me.

“Taste this for me.”

I opened my mouth obediently and tasted it.

“Hm,” I nodded dramatically. “You’ll make an excellent wife.” I joked. He sincerely laughed. I was glad he did and for a few seconds, things felt light and normal.

Then silence returned again naturally. The kind that exists between two people who know each other deeply.

It was time to eat and I mostly pushed food around my plate while my thoughts kept spiraling quietly inside me. Olamide noticed eventually. Of course he did. He always noticed.

“You’ve been somewhere else since you got here,” he said gently.

I looked up slowly.

His voice wasn’t accusatory. He was just soft and concerned.

I looked down at my plate again.

Then before I could stop myself, the words slipped out quietly.

“Do you ever feel guilty for being distant from God?”

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The question came out so quietly that for a moment, even I wasn’t sure I had actually said it out loud.

Olamide’s hand paused midway to his glass. The apartment suddenly felt even quieter. He looked at me carefully.

And the thing about Olamide was that he never rushed my vulnerability. He never tried to immediately fix it. He just stayed present inside it with me.

I laughed nervously and looked away.

“Forget I said that.”

“No,” he said softly almost immediately.

I swallowed.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, still watching me with that calmness that always made me feel seen.

“Talk to me.”

My chest tightened.

I stared down at my food for a few seconds before speaking again.

“I just…” I sighed shakily. “I don’t know. Lately I feel emotionally disconnected from everything.”

He stayed quiet, listening to me talk.

“I’ve been so exhausted all the time. Work keeps draining me and when I finally get home, I just want to sleep.” I laughed weakly. “I keep telling myself I’ll pray later and then later never comes.”

My throat tightened embarrassingly.

“I feel guilty all the time, Mide.” He still didn’t interrupt.

“I open my Bible and close it back sometimes because I can’t even concentrate.” I shook my head slowly. “And it scares me because I’m not used to feeling this… numb.”.The last word came out almost like a whisper.

For a few seconds, Olamide said nothing..Then he smiled softly and that confused me immediately.

I frowned slightly. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because I’m glad you told me.”

I blinked slowly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “I just… feel at peace hearing you say it out loud.”

“At peace?”

He nodded.

“Because I’ve been feeling that way too.” He looked down briefly before speaking again.

“I’ve been exhausted lately, Simi.”

His voice sounded quieter now and more vulnerable.

“Mentally, emotionally and spiritually even.”

I stared at him silently.

“I still pray,” he continued softly. “But sometimes it feels like I’m just repeating words because I know I’m supposed to.”

Olamide always seemed so grounded and like he got his feelings always in check unlike me. Seeing him admit this felt strangely comforting and heartbreaking at the same time.

He smiled faintly to himself.

“There are days I’m working and my brain is just… tired.” He exhaled slowly. “Like I’m functioning but not fully present.”

I remembered all the little moments immediately. God, I knew it.

“And I think what scared me the most,” he admitted quietly, “was not knowing how to explain it to you properly.” I stared at him for a few seconds before speaking softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes met mine immediately.

“I didn’t want you worrying.” He always doesn't want me worrying.

I laughed shakily and looked down.

“That’s literally why I didn’t tell you too.” That made him smile softly again.

Then he reached across the table slowly and held my hand gently.

“You know something?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“I think sometimes we forget that being overwhelmed doesn’t automatically mean we’ve abandoned God.”

I swallowed hard.

He rubbed his thumb softly against my fingers.

“I think life just gets heavy sometimes and I think we’re harder on ourselves than God is.” he added

That statement settled with me in a way that felt comforting and painful at the same time.

I looked away quickly because tears were already gathering in my eyes.

“This week at work,” I started quietly, “one of my coworkers opened up to me about struggling spiritually too.”

He listened attentively.

“And I was there giving her advice I myself haven’t even been able to follow.”

Olamide smiled softly.

“That’s usually how it happens.”

I laughed weakly through my emotions.

“I felt like a hypocrite.”

“You’re not.”

“I literally told her maybe God understands exhaustion.”

“And He probably does,” he replied gently.

I looked at him quietly.

He squeezed my hand again.

“You know what I think?” he asked.

“What?”

“I think you’ve been carrying too much by yourself lately.” because he was right.

“And I think,” he continued softly, “you’re allowed to pause too and take a break.” I stared at him helplessly. God, this man.

“You always know exactly what to say,” I whispered emotionally.

He smiled faintly.

“No,” he shook his head gently. “I just know you.”

I laughed embarrassedly and wiped my face quickly.

“See me crying over ordinary conversation.”

“Come here,” he murmured softly as he got up.

I stood up immediately as he gently pulled me into his chest for a hug. I buried my face into his neck and exhaled

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling overwhelmed,” he whispered quietly against my hair. Even while he was exhausted himself, he still made space for me too.

“I was scared to say it out loud,” I admitted quietly.

“I know.”

“I thought maybe something was wrong with me.”

He pulled back slightly just enough to look at me properly.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, babe.” His voice was so calm and so certain.

“You’re tired, I am too but I feel better being here with you” he said gently.

“You know what I’m most happy about?” he asked softly. I shook my head slightly.

“That you told me.” I stared at him quietly. He smiled softly again

“I don’t even care that we’re both struggling right now.” He laughed faintly.

“I just like knowing you still see me as your safe place.” I smiled. He truly was my safe place. I was his too.

He pulled me into his chest again.

“We’ll figure it out together, hm?”

I nodded slowly. Somehow, being in his arms while both of us admitted we weren’t okay felt more healing than pretending we were.

Egbami! (Help me), you mean to tell me my effort means nothing? As in pe, I should mind my business? Kosi wahala (no problem)

Who said there's no problem? There's wahala! Plenty wahala! Because the audacity and the disrespect and the ungratefulness of that statement will never not shock me. It's funny and not funny because I'd begin laughing. What do you mean “but I never asked you to do that”. Omo, I'd be so hurt.

Abi is it just me who's over thinking that statement? You people don't understand how that sentence can wound someone. I'm not talking about small wound oh, I'm talking about the kind of wound that makes you question why you even bothered being kind to the person in the first place.

What do people mean when they say that because I think they're basically saying your thoughtfulness, your effort, your time is worthless because they didn't explicitly demand it.

Imagine your friend is clearly struggling with something and maybe they are overwhelmed with work, maybe they are going through a tough time, maybe they just need help and they are too proud or too tired to ask. So you, being a decent human being, you step in and you help them. You go out of your way and you sacrifice your time, your energy, sometimes even your money, because you care and then one human being will now ask you one stupid question.

Questions like this are exactly why some people avoid being nice when they see others struggle. It's just all shades of wrong.

So I should have seen you struggling and look away? Is that what we're doing now? And the thing that pains me the most is that these same people, these same ones with their mouth like four figure table, that will tell you "I never asked you," are the same ones that will vex if you don't help them when they need it.

They'll be forming independent, "I can handle it myself," but the moment you actually leave them to handle it themselves, you'll hear "I thought we were friends" or "you just watched me suffer."

So which one is it? Do you want help or not? Because I'm confused. You don't want people doing things for you without asking, but you also want people to magically know when you need help and provide it? Make it make sense.

And it's not even about expecting a thank you oh. I'm not out here doing things so people can worship me or build statues for me but at minimum, AT MINIMUM, don't insult the gesture. Be human abeg! Ah omo! Stop making people feel stupid for caring. It's not nice.

If you don’t want the help, say you don't want it. open your mouth and say you appreciate it but you'd rather handle it yourself and that's fine. But to now accept the help, benefit from it, and then turn around and act like it was unsolicited? You're just wicked.

Wo(see), at this point, nobody should even stress me. Everyone for themselves, God for us all.

I don't know if we all understand that solitude and loneliness are not the same thing. I genuinely don't think people get it. I mean, watching this Love Me K-drama exposed me and gave me more clarity on what they both are. They are very, very distinct from each other and I think we're all walking around confusing the two and making ourselves (and other people) feel terrible about it.

Solitude is something you choose. Loneliness is something that chooses you. Solitude is peaceful because you chose it. Loneliness is painful because you didn't. That's it and that's the whole thing.

I know some of you are like "okay, but what does that actually mean?"

Solitude is when you deliberately decide "You know what? I'm staying home tonight. I'm going to be alone and I'm going to love every second of it." It's intentional. You're not avoiding people because you're scared or sad or broken or anything. You just genuinely want to be by yourself and it's just annoying because people will see you and say, “ you see that one, better leave her, She doesn't like rolling with other people. When you invite her somewhere now, she'd say she's not going” LMAO. Like, excuse you? Ode.

That's what happens when you choose solitude. People take it personally. They start creating narratives. When really, you just don't want to be around people right now and that should be okay. I chose this and because I chose it, it doesn't hurt.

But you see loneliness? Oh, loneliness is a whole different beast.

Loneliness is when you're sitting in a room full of people and you still feel like you're on an island by yourself. It's that specific ache in your chest that has nothing to do with being physically alone and everything to do with feeling emotionally disconnected from the entire world.

It's not something you say like, “I want to be lonely oh or I choose to be lonely” it's something sad. You didn't choose it, it just shows up and it sucks.

What makes it even worse is we shame people for BOTH. What is that even about? Egbami! (help me)

I'm sorry, but since when is wanting to be alone a crime? Why do I have to justify enjoying my own company? Why is it weird that I'd rather read a book than go to a party where I'll have to engage in small talk.

Being alone doesn't mean you're lonely but then on the other side, if you admit you're actually lonely, like genuinely, painfully lonely, people hit you with the "Just go out more! Just make friends! Just stop being so negative!" As if loneliness is something you can just turn off and on.

People who are lonely should not be shamed for it either. Sometimes you're just lonely and that's a real, valid, human thing that deserves compassion, not some talk about eh "just got out and put yourself out there.”

You can be someone who needs solitude to survive and still crave connection. It's just being human.

The problem is we've made it seem like choosing to be alone means something's wrong with you and we've made it seem like admitting you're lonely means you're a loser who can't make friends.

Solitude is self-care. It's necessary and it's healthy. If you need it, take it. Don't let anyone make you feel weird about it.

Also, Loneliness is real and it's painful. It hurts. If you're feeling it, you deserve to say it out loud without someone laughing at you for it.

So no, it's not too early this Saturday morning to talk about this. If by any chance you're reading this right now, sitting alone, trying to figure out which one you're feeling or trying to figure out if what you're experiencing is the peaceful kind of alone or the painful kind, remember to just be kind to yourself either way.

And honestly? I've always wondered this too. The good women always get the... not so good men. Why is that?

(And yes, before anyone comes for me, good men also get bad women but that's not the topic of discussion today. So, stay with me.)

Why do good women get badly behaved men? Why? Why? Why?

What's the psychology behind being a good woman and being treated badly by a man you're doing everything for? What is actually happening here?

I feel like bad men can sense who will tolerate their behavior. They can tell who will stay, who will forgive and who will keep giving chances. It's almost like they have a detector for it.

They're not looking for women because they want to cherish them, they're looking for women because they know these women will put up with their nonsense.

Think about it, if you're the kind of woman who prides yourself on being understanding, patient, and forgiving - you're actually the perfect target for a man who has no intention of treating you right because he knows that no matter what he does, you'll find a way to justify it, explain it away, give him another chance.

All you ever think in that your head is:

"He's just going through something." "He'll change eventually." "I know he loves me deep down." "If I just love him harder..." Does it sound familiar to you? Because it sounds familiar to me bajebaje

The psychology behind it, is actually pretty more like, people treat you how you allow them to treat you and women who are good.. the ones who do everything, who sacrifice, who stay through the disrespect have taught these men that bad treatment is acceptable.

The pattern is when a woman meets a man, she starts doing things for him like cooking, supporting, being there emotionally, physically, financially, and whatever.

She pours into him and at first, maybe he appreciates it, maybe he reciprocates a little but then he realizes... she's going to keep doing this regardless of what he does. Sooo, he starts doing less and she does more to compensate. The more he does even less, the more she does more and like that the cycle continues.

The psychology behind why good women get badly treated is because these women have been conditioned to believe that love means endless giving. That being a good woman means being selfless to the point of losing yourself. That if you just do enough, love enough, sacrifice enough, the Oloriburuku (the unfortunate man) will finally see your worth and treat you right.

A man who wants to treat you badly will do it whether you're good or not. Actually, he prefers that you're good because it means you'll tolerate it longer. You'll make excuses for him and you'll stay like the mumu that you are.

The real question shouldn't just be, "Why do good women get bad men?" It also should be, "Why do good women stay with bad men?”

Why do we accept poor treatment and call it love? Why do we do everything for someone who does nothing for us and convince ourselves that's what being a good woman looks like? Why do we stay in situations where we're clearly not valued, not appreciated, and not respected?

What's the psychology behind that?

Maybe it's because we think that our worth is tied to how much we can endure and how much we can forgive and make it look like suffering in love is something that one should be proud of

You'll open your nonsense mouth and be saying, "look how much I've been through and I'm still here" Pele you deserve, “The Oscar in the category, best in suffering goes to you “ since that's what you want.

Staying with someone who treats you poorly doesn't make you good. It's an ugly thing.

Good women should get good men. I believe that. You all bad people should go date yourselves. I also believe that.

But good women also need to stop accepting bad ones. Kilode? As long as there are women who will tolerate disrespect, there will be men who will dish it out.

If you're teaching someone that treating you badly is acceptable and that doing nothing while you do everything is fine, then that's exactly what you'll get.

So why do good women get bad men? Because bad men know good women will stay.

I mean, where's the shame in that!? You don't have to be in a romantic relationship with someone for you to call them "my love."

Like who decided that those words are off-limits unless you're dating someone?

You can absolutely call your platonic friends "my love" and I think we should normalize it more.

But to be honest really, I used to find it awkward when people called each other "my love." Like genuinely awkward because it felt like it was just being casually said without actually meaning anything, you know? It felt empty

I used to know someone who called almost everyone they knew "my love." And I'm talking EVERYONE and I remember thinking, "Wait, what's going on? Where's the line? You just call anyone your love?"

It bothered me because if everyone is "my love," then is anyone really? Doesn't it lose meaning when it's just thrown around like it's nothing?

Then again I started thinking about it differently. Sometimes when someone you don't even know does something nice for you, it just comes out reflexively, you just find yourself saying, "Thank you, my love." It's just this natural way of showing appreciation, of acknowledging someone's kindness with warmth instead of just a boring "thanks."

Maybe "my love" doesn't always have to mean deep affection. It could just be you being soft and tender.

But, and this is a BIG but, imagine being called "my love" by someone you don't consider anything. LMAO.

Like, you know that person? The one who you're maybe friendly with but definitely not friends with and they hit you with "bye, my love" and you're just standing there like... excuse me? When did this happen? Did I agree to this? Have we perhaps reached that level yet😭

It's confusing because where exactly is the line?

When is "my love" appropriate and when is it just weird? When does it feel genuine and when does it feel like someone's overstepping? And how are we supposed to know the difference when nobody actually talks about this stuff?

I think that's what makes it so tricky. We're all out here trying to navigate these unspoken rules about affection and closeness, and half the time we don't even know if we're on the same page as the person we're talking to.

You might think you're close enough to call someone "my love," but they're still mentally filing you under "person I know from that thing." Or vice versa, someone's calling you "my love" and you're thinking, "chill, we are NOT there yet." And at what point do we get there?😂

It can hurt a little when you realize you and someone else have completely different ideas about where you stand with each other. So where does that leave us?

I guess I've learned that context and intention matters. Some people use "my love" for everyone, and that's just their thing. It's how they spread warmth.

Other people save it for the selected few who really matter, and that's beautiful too.

At the end of the day, I think we're all just trying to figure out how to tell people they matter without making it awkward. Some of us use "my love,” some of us use other words while some of us are terrible at words altogether and just show up with food instead.

The point is, we're trying and as for everyone else? Well, we'll figure out what to call each other as we go. Maybe you'll become "my love" eventually or maybe you'll stay just "Hi." Either way, I think we'll know where we stand when we get there.

Friendship used to be simple. Nobody needed three business days to respond to a text but now it's complicated.

I cherish friendship deeply, maybe too deeply, if that's even possible. I think about the people I want in my life the way some people curate playlists. I notice when someone laughs at the same ridiculous things I do, or when a conversation doesn't feel like work and when I feel that spark of "oh, we could actually be friends," my brain does this embarrassing thing where it gets excited. Like genuinely, pathetically excited

Now it's confusing because what do you even do with that feeling now?

You can't just ask someone to be your friend. Well, you can, but it feels hectic or they might be thinking, “is she okay in the head?”😂

Anddd, the mental thing of who texts first and how long you should wait before double texting, omo is annoying. It's exhausting, ah and painful, honestly but the truth is, I want deep friendships. I want friends I can call when something amazing happens, but also when nothing happens without feeling weird about existing. I want the kind of friendships where you can sit in comfortable or uncomfortable silence and it's still safe.

I want friendships with people where I can grow, where we can gossip, yes, I said it and gist about everything and nothing. Where we can call each other numerous times in a day, which I know can get exhausting, lol, but honestly? Who cares. Who cares if we're long distance friends? People in relationships do long distance, so why not usssssss?

But wanting that and finding that are two very different things.

Also, At what point do we even get to call someone our friend? Because I do not and I mean DO NOT want to call someone who's supposed to be an acquaintance, my friend. There's a difference, you know? And I need to know where that line is and not cross it.

They also don't tell you it takes a lot to build friendship, a whole lot!. It takes time, efforts, prayers (yes, prayers!), patience, oh my goodness, the patience.

You're basically investing all these hoping your energies will match and hoping life won't get in the way.

I also find this funny because some people seem lucky with the gift of good friends, not the ones making you regret knowing them. Like, is there a prayer point I missed or something? Did everyone else attend a special prayer session that I somehow skipped?

Sometimes I wonder if everyone else got a manual I didn't get. Like maybe there was a handbook distributed that explained how to maintain friendships when everyone's busy, tired, in different cities, in different life stages, or just generally overwhelmed by being alive because I definitely missed it

The really confusing part is sometimes you find someone who gets you, and you think "this is it, this is the friendship," and then life happens.

And yet despite all of the confusion, the complications, the time and effort and prayers it takes, the quiet heartbreak of connections that almost were, I still believe in it, I still want it, I still light up when someone remembers something I said three weeks ago, or sends me a meme that's so specific to our inside jokes that it wouldn't make sense to anyone else.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, friendship feels crazy these days. The idea of it can be exhausting. It's confusing and sometimes it hurts and I don't have it figured out but I'm still here, still trying, still hoping that somewhere out there, someone else is also standing at their sink with soapy hands, wondering the same thing I am.

So... hi. Can we be friends?

(No pressure, take your time responding. I'll just be over here, overthinking this for the next three to five business days.)

In your bio, if you're single, put it there. If you're engaged, put it there. If you're about to propose, put "about to propose" there. If you're married, put married there. If you're single and want to mingle, ejor (please) put it there.

I'm being very serious, we need legislation, we need enforcement. We need a whole government agency dedicated to making sure people's relationship status is clear and visible because these streets are confusing and I'm tired of doing detective work just to know if someone is available or not.

So me, I thought this guy was single oh. Ah, all these foolish Lagos men. Chai. But see your life Mojire. No wonder! Abajo! No wonder he didn't follow me back after I followed him on almost all his socials. I'm such a finished woman, you see. He didn't follow me on a single platform. I was sha (just) looking, but wo (see), when I got tired and waited a week, I unfollowed him. Me, I don't even have strength honestly.

It was until 5 months later, I was just scrolling through Instagram, that was how I saw his proposal pictures oh. The way I screamed... I happened to be in the office and they were all looking at me like I was crazy. In my mind, I was like, no wonder! Tor (well), good for him oh.

So this man was in a whole relationship. He was probably planning the proposal while I was out here refreshing my follower count like a jobless person. The girl was gorgeous sef, I can't even hate. They looked happy. The venue was nice. I saw the comments - "finally," "been waiting for this," "our wedding is next year" meaning EVERYONE knew except me. I was the only one doing foolish follow follow while this man was picking out rings.

Would I have wasted time to follow him if I knew he was in a relationship?? Mtchew.

Like honestly, would I? The answer is no. A very big, capital letter NO. I would have seen "in a relationship" in his bio and kept it moving. I would have saved myself the embarrassment of following him on three different platforms like I'm running a fan page.

Assuming I went to do pass myself and texted him, I would have gone to embarrass myself.

Imagine if I had been bold, imagine if I had shot my shot. Sent a "hey" in the DMs, complimented one of his posts and asked him out for lunch or something, I would have been out here looking like a home wrecker in training when all I wanted was to know if he was interested.

The girl would have screenshot my message and posted it in her group chat. They would have laughed at me. A whole me. This is why you don't chase men on social media.

Thank God for the unanswered follows..Thank God for men who don't follow back. Sometimes rejection is protection and I'm grateful this man ghosted me before I could even become a ghost in his life.

But still, if you're in a relationship, PUT IT IN YOUR BIO. Save us all the trouble. We're out here trying to navigate life and love, we don't have time to be doing background checks and private investigations just to know if you're available. Have some mercy on us single people. We're already seeing a lot in this life that gives zero fucks about us.