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

How long have you been with your partner?

Alfred and I have been together for about a year and eight months.

How did you meet?

We met through a mutual friend in 2024. I’d seen Alfred a few times at social events, but we didn’t speak until our friend’s birthday party. We ended up sitting next to each other and had fun gisting. I was surprised to find that he was funny because he always looked serious.

We exchanged numbers that night. He called the next day and told me he liked me and wanted us to date. He was very intentional about showing me his feelings, which was another surprise because I’d never met a romantic Benin man before. They don’t have time for lovey-dovey things. 

But Alfred would text me every morning and still call me after work. I remember thinking, “This guy is actually not bad.” I mean, for someone you’re not dating to be that caring, he must be nice.

What made you eventually say yes?

His intentionality, plus the fact that he was a responsible man. He had a good job as an engineer and seemed like a sensible man with a plan. He was also quite generous. He took me to nice eateries almost every weekend and generally cared for me. What else did I need in a man? Of course, I agreed to date him.

Our relationship went smoothly for the first three months, until I found out he had a child.

Oh. How did you find out?

I was at his house one weekend, when I noticed a child’s school bag and some little boy’s clothes around the place. That was my third time at his house, but the first time I saw those items. The other two times, it had just been Alfred’s properties in the house. This was around the mid-term break or the normal school holiday period, so I assumed the clothes belonged to his nephew or something.

While I was still thinking about how to ask him, a little boy came into the room and called him Daddy. I was so confused.

What did Alfred say?

He was just like, “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.” 

Then he started explaining how the lady he had planned to marry six years earlier died while giving birth to their son. Apparently, the child lived with his mother and only visited him during the holidays, which was why I didn’t know he was a dad. In summary, that was how I found out he had a six-year-old son. 

How did you react?

I was shocked and angry because I felt three months was a long time to go without telling me something like that. We fought, and I refused to pick up his calls for two days. I even fought with our mutual friend for hiding it too, but he claimed he assumed Alfred would.

Eventually, Alfred and I settled. The reason he gave for hiding it was that he didn’t think it was a big deal since the mother wasn’t in the picture, and it slipped his mind. Imagine that. How can you forget something like that? Later, he said he just wanted to make sure our relationship was strong before telling me. 

I forgave him sha. I already really liked him at that point, and thankfully, it wasn’t like he had a baby mama. 

Safe to say you didn’t have reservations about dating a single father?

Not really. I knew his child would always be important to him, which is normal. It would even be a red flag if he denied the child or abandoned him somewhere.

It only became a problem when I noticed how much of his money went towards his son.

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When did you start noticing that?

Around a year into the relationship. At first, I didn’t pay attention to how often he was sending money to his mum for his son because I thought it was the expected thing to do. Of course, he should spend money on his child.

But then I started noticing that whenever there was a financial conflict between something for his son and something for us, his son always came first.

Can you give me an example?

For our first anniversary, he promised we’d go on a staycation at a resort. I’d planned everything and even made my clothes for the trip. I was really looking forward to it. A week before the trip, he told me we had to cancel because his son needed a laptop for school.

First of all, I’ve never heard that a primary school pupil needs a laptop for school. Secondly, I was bothered by how quickly he cancelled our plans. He didn’t even have a conversation with me about whether we could find another way to pay for it or postpone the purchase. He also didn’t entertain my questions about why he needed a laptop. It was simply, “My son needs this, so the trip has to go.” 

And that wasn’t the only time he did that. His mum told him the boy wanted a PlayStation for his birthday, and Alfred bought it. I remember because around the same period, I had been complaining about my phone. It was old and constantly giving me problems.

I never expected Alfred to buy me a phone, but I remember thinking, “You can spend over ₦500k on a PlayStation for a boy I’m not sure can even play well, but we keep postponing things we want to do together because they’re too expensive?”

Hmmm

I feel like he spends more money on his son and prioritises his needs over mine. To be clear, I’m not angry that he’s taking care of his son; it’s how he makes me feel like a second-class citizen. Most of the time, he does whatever the boy wants, and it somehow becomes my relationship’s financial problem.

There was another time when I wanted us to go somewhere nice for my birthday. He cancelled because school fees were coming up. Not long after, he bought the boy a pair of school shoes for ₦50k. I was honestly hurt, but I couldn’t tell him because it’d be like I was dictating what he should or shouldn’t do for his son.

Do you both have conversations about money?

Not really in the way we should. We talk about money when there’s a specific expense, but we don’t have regular conversations about our finances or what we can build together.

I think that’s part of the problem. I know what his duties to his son are, but I don’t really know how he plans around them. We also don’t talk about our income. He spends without communicating with me or asking my opinion on matters. It’s only when I ask him for money that I’ll hear things like, “I don’t have. I just sent ₦50k to Iye for my son,” or “I’m gathering ₦100k to pay for something for my son.” 

That’s even how I get to find out how much he spends on his son. I’ve mentioned a few times that we should talk about money more, but nothing has changed. It doesn’t feel like we’re in a partnership, which is concerning because we’ve passed the stage of boyfriend-girlfriend. We’re now thinking of settling down. I shouldn’t still be thinking twice about talking about money with someone I hope to marry.

What do relationship expenses, like dates and gifts, look like for you both right now?

Alfred pays for most of our dates. He’s also the one who usually suggests going somewhere, so I don’t have a problem with that. I also buy things for him, especially on birthdays and on random gifts. 

Do you contribute financially to his son in any way?

No. And I don’t think I should at this stage. I’m not his mother, and we’re not married yet. I sometimes buy him snacks and toys, but that’s it. 

You’ve mentioned marriage a few times. Are wedding plans in motion?

Alfred is very clear that he wants to marry me. We’ve talked about it, but there’s no date yet. I think that’s why the money issue has started bothering me more. 

It was easy to overlook how much he spent on his son when we started dating, but if we get married, it will affect me, too. I feel like I’m constantly competing with his son for money, and I don’t like that. Again, I know his son should be a priority. But I also want us to have our own financial goals, like travelling, investing, or maybe starting a business. I don’t want every plan we make to be pushed to the side because there’s always another expense related to his son.

What’s the ideal financial future you’d like for you and Alfred?

I just want to feel like we’re building something together. We need to have a proper joint plan for our future. I’m not seeing that right now. 

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

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: People Think My Girlfriend Is Too Rich for Me

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What is your earliest memory of money?

When I was six years old, my parents began giving my younger sister and me ₦50 or ₦100 each daily during school holidays. Then my older aunt, who was around 13 or 14, would encourage us to save it. She kept a notebook where she logged our daily savings. At the end of every holiday, we would show our parents how much we saved, and they’d encourage us to buy something substantial, like a dress or birthday gifts for our siblings.

On some days, my parents would claim they didn’t have money just to teach us that the daily allowances weren’t guaranteed, but we didn’t mind since we weren’t even spending the money. Eventually, they bought us piggy banks, and we took over saving the money ourselves.

What was your family’s financial situation like growing up?

My dad is a lecturer at a higher institution, and my mum is a trader. Growing up, I thought we were rich. It was only when I got older that I realised we weren’t. My parents did their best to shield us from financial strain. They always told us, “If you need anything, ask us. Don’t buy it yourself.”

I could ask my dad for something, and he’d say, “not today. I don’t have money now,” but he’d still go ahead and do it. I was always assured that my parents would eventually get me whatever I needed (and even random wants). That built a lot of trust, and perhaps the notion that we were rich.

When did you realise you weren’t actually rich?

As I got older, I started paying attention to my parents’ conversations. As a child, your wants are trivial. I could ask for something worth ₦10k, which didn’t stretch my parents a lot. But over time, I began hearing them discuss household expenses and how there wasn’t enough money for certain major things.

At one point, my dad started a building project, and it took a massive toll on our household finances. My mum had to carry us through that period. Hearing “there’s no money for this” repeatedly made me realise we weren’t as comfortable as I thought.

When was the first time you did something to earn money?

My parents usually gave us small chores for tiny rewards, but the first significant time I worked for money was when I was 13. It was 2019, and I had just entered the polytechnic. My dad wanted me to learn how to do research projects, so he gave me his student’s project to type on the computer and paid me ₦8,000 for it. 

He guided me through formatting the title page, preliminaries, abstract, and chapters, all the way to the appendix. I remember finishing and thinking, “Ha, this was so hard. I should have charged this man more.” 

But ₦8,000 was the biggest amount of money I had ever earned at that point. I think I gave it to my mum to save, and later used it to buy novels and gifts.

Wait, you got into the polytechnic at 13? How did that happen?

I’ve always been academically fast. In primary four, a new government school opened that allowed pupils to resume JSS 1 before writing the Primary School Leaving Examination, instead of waiting a year. So, I skipped primary five, moved straight into JSS 1, wrote the exam there, and passed.

Then in SS 2, my dad suggested I write JAMB just to get a feel of the exam. I scored very well. He asked if I wanted to go to the university, and because I was tired of being bullied for being the youngest in my SS 2 class, I said yes. I wrote NECO, passed all my subjects, and applied to a university. They rejected me, though. They required candidates to be at least 16 years old, but I was 13. So, I applied to the polytechnic where my dad worked and was admitted.

Interesting. Did you do anything else for money while at the polytechnic?

Not immediately. I commuted from home, and my parents gave me transportation money. If I ran into my dad on campus, he’d give me money for snacks. It became frustrating because I wanted my own money, but I was 13 and didn’t know how to go about it.

I went on Google for answers, and my search led me to Wattpad. I started writing romance fiction on the platform. They didn’t pay me. I was just writing. 

Eventually, in ND 2, I heard about another platform called GoodNovel that paid writers. So, I joined and landed a non-exclusive contract with them. The arrangement was that they’d pay only when the writer hit a certain word count in a particular time frame. I think it was around 150,000 words, which meant I had to write 2,000 to 3,000 words every single day for months to meet their earnings requirements.

I got paid $100 once and abandoned the platform. The workload was too intense. 

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What did you do after walking away from the writing platform?

I started volunteering for a lot of things. I was a young child at a higher institution and didn’t have friends, so I felt I had to be doing something all the time. 

I volunteered for two mental health brands, working as a social media manager for one, and as a content writer at the other. I realised I wasn’t really good at content writing, so I asked my dad for ₦3,000 to register for a content writing class. This was now 2021.

During the class, our tutor assigned content for us to write and published it under her name. That class helped me see that I could write practical articles, not just romance stories. It also opened my eyes to the possibilities of working remotely.

Even after the class ended, I kept researching and looking for opportunities. I finished my National Diploma around this time and moved on to the university in 2022. That same year, in 100 level, I noticed someone’s name under the “author” section of a post on a lifestyle platform. 

I was very curious about how to get published, so I got a contact from the website and pitched them. At the time, I didn’t even know what cold pitching was. I just told them I wanted to write for them, too. 

How did that go?

They said I would need to contribute 10 articles before my name could be published on their website. After that, I became a regular contributor, writing for their business and career categories. Sometimes I also did SEO. They didn’t pay, but I wasn’t in it for money.

That said, they started sending me occasional freelance writing gigs from other clients. I charged ₦1 per word for 2,000- to 3,000-word articles. Over seven months, I got about six or seven gigs from them.

At the same time, a friend paid me ₦5,000 monthly to manage the social media account for a mental health brand she was working with. The money only covered data, but again, I wasn’t focused on income. I spent my early career volunteering, and I always took the jobs seriously. People would ask me, “This work you’re doing, how much are they even paying you?” 

Me, I just liked bringing excellence into everything I did. I was also really curious. When I wasn’t working, I was on my laptop, learning everything from SEO to Canva. 

How long did you juggle the writing and social media management roles?

About seven months. Four months in, my friend hit a rough patch and stopped paying the ₦5,000 allowance, but I worked for three more months anyway until I became completely burnt out. 

I was also writing academic research papers for my HOD for zero pay. Combining that with school, contributing articles for the lifestyle platform, and managing social media became overstimulating. So, I quit both the contributor duties and social media management to focus on the research papers and my studies.

The break was short-lived, though.

Why?

I found another job to do in 200 level. Someone posted a vacancy for a social media manager role, and I used my volunteer experience to build a CV and applied. I got the job, and my salary was ₦40k monthly. This was 2023.

I worked there for a full year, managing a tech professional’s LinkedIn, Instagram, and Facebook pages daily. It was my first official, steady-paying corporate job. However, posting daily, engaging with comments in real time, and managing school work put so much pressure on me. I was also writing people’s projects and seminar papers. Those paid me ₦20k/seminar and ₦10k/project chapter.

By January 2024, I was overstimulated again. I struggled with leaving because it felt like I was betraying my boss. I’d never resigned from an official paying job before, and it felt weird. But I eventually had to leave. I was so overwhelmed.

I took another short break, and, in April 2024, I joined a non-profit community as a volunteer content marketer and program manager. 

I imagine this wasn’t a paid role?

It wasn’t at first, but as usual with me, I did the most there. I poured so much effort and worked so hard that the founder decided to start paying me ₦20k/month. She didn’t pay the other volunteers, just me. The payment started from September and lasted through December 2024.

When I was heading into my final year, she suggested we pause so I could focus on my project. She wanted me to take on more roles, but she knew final-year students handled so much schoolwork and didn’t want to overwhelm me. I honestly didn’t think it was anything I couldn’t handle, but I agreed. Two months later, in February 2025, she recommended me for a social media manager role at a podcast brand paying ₦85k/month.

In July, a LinkedIn contact reached out to me about another job opportunity. That’s how I got a full-time content marketing offer at a fintech company. To be honest, I was a bit scared. I hadn’t worked in content marketing before, but when I saw the job description, it was very similar to what I’d done all these years. I decided I’d take the job and work very hard to figure it out. 

The salary was ₦100k, so my monthly income jumped from ₦85k to ₦185k instantly. This coincided with my writing my final exams and signing out of university.

Love it for you! Do you still juggle both jobs?

Actually, I have three now. I started my NYSC year in May 2026, and I work as a social media manager and content creator for a digital skills training brand. They pay me ₦20k/month, and I get ₦77k allawee from the government.

My salary at the fintech — I consider this my main job — has also increased. The first performance-based pay raise was in February, when they increased it to ₦150k. Then, after completing a full year at the company, they increased it again to ₦250k. My podcast job still pays ₦85k. All together, that puts my core monthly income at ₦432k.

On the side, I also sell personalised digital skill blueprints on social media.

Tell me more about that

It grew out of my passion for social impact. Whenever I go out to speak to people about digital skills and education, a lot of them ask me to teach them. I don’t have the capacity to teach one-on-one, so I suggest they take online courses. The problem with that is that many people often get overwhelmed and lose consistency. Some don’t even know where to start. I wanted to give them something tangible to fall back on so they could actually take action. So, I started creating the blueprints.

Instead of a generic, one-size-fits-all guide, someone clicks the link in my bio or reaches out to tell me the specific skill they want to learn, for instance, social media management. I build a step-by-step roadmap for them, complete with curated links to courses, blogs, and tools, explaining exactly how to master the skill from scratch.

I charge ₦2,000 per blueprint, which brings in an extra ₦10k- ₦20k per month. Honestly, it’s a lot of work for ₦2,000, but it’s definitely not about the money right now; it’s about impact and helping people bridge the gap between wanting a digital career and actually building one. There’s a huge demand for it, and once I have more capacity after NYSC, I’m definitely planning to scale it.

That’s so impressive. But how on earth do you manage all these jobs? 

I can’t remember a time since I was 15 when I wasn’t doing a bunch of things. For me, doing nothing and doing too much are the same thing, so I’d rather do too much. 

Also, I’d be too anxious to have nothing to do. It’s like, “I need to do something,” and if I’m doing something, I need to make sure I’m doing it well enough. I prefer the other end of the stick, where I’m doing a lot and making money. 

Back to how I manage the jobs, my NYSC PPA is an on-site job, but I don’t have a manager. I write the content, shoot, edit and post. So, I set aside days to go there and batch-create their content. I also teach video editing there, so whenever students come in, I teach them.

Since I batch-create, I don’t need to go there daily, but I do so because there’s constant electricity at the office. So whenever I’m not shooting or teaching, I sit there to do my two other remote jobs. 

My social media management duties for the podcast happen on my phone. It’s mostly posting and responding to comments, so I set time aside for that. When I finish, I go back to my content marketing job. As I said, it’s my main job and highest income stream, so I prioritise it above everything else.

I’m curious. Do your employers know you have other jobs?

They do, but no one really cares as long as I’m delivering my work. Sometimes meetings clash, and I can ask my team at the fintech to move them to the evening. They’re very understanding. 

I also sacrifice a lot of sleep. If I have deadlines, I work straight through the night after coming back from my PPA. I refuse to let my output slip on any job because I don’t want to give anyone a reason to doubt my competence.

On top of all this, I still create content for my social media and LinkedIn pages and write a newsletter.

I get your need to constantly be doing something, but do you think you HAVE to do this many things at once?

As I’ve grown older, and from watching older people around me and how they think about money, I realise that many people’s perception of earning is limited by their exposure. 

People who haven’t grasped the possibilities of the digital world have a limited view of money. I don’t want to live the kind of life where people just graduate, and the first thing on their minds is opening a perfume business or doing something small to make ends meet. This isn’t to talk down on small businesses, but I think life can be bigger than that.

You don’t always have to wait for a chance. You can actually do things to work towards those goals. So, all I’m doing now is for future me.

I want a financially secure future where I can make an impact on people and afford any level of education I want. Right now, when I pay for courses, people ask me why I do that. I want to be able to do what I want without having to explain to anybody.

Is there a particular net worth you’re aiming to reach to secure this future?

I don’t think there’s a specific figure right now, because I feel like my understanding of money grows as I earn it. 

For instance, before I started earning a consistent income, I thought earning ₦100k monthly would help me achieve a lot. But I got there and realised it was a chicken change in Nigeria’s economy. The more money I make, the more pressure that comes with it. I just want a future where there’s no pressure or guilt about spending money. 

How would you describe your relationship with money today?

Anxious. I constantly question my spending, whether I’m giving away too much, saving enough, or investing properly.

Because I’m 20, I frequently worry about whether I am managing this level of income well or making mistakes. There’s also the constant fear of losing my jobs. Now that I cover all my personal expenses, the thought of losing my income and having to rely on my parents again gives me serious anxiety.

What do your typical monthly expenses look like?

I don’t pay rent because my NYSC PPA provided accommodation. Whenever I’m not there, I’m at my parents’. 

Currently, my total savings sit at around ₦500k. It’s low because I recently had to draw from it to cover graduation expenses, move to a new state for NYSC, fund my health expenses, and pay half of a new ₦250k laptop (my dad covered the other half). Now that I’m settled, I plan to rebuild my safety net. I also have about ₦40k in stocks. I don’t have a specific savings goal right now; I just save consistently to maintain financial stability.

Is there an ideal amount of money you think you should be earning right now?

This is funny because if I add one more job to my table, I might drop dead. 

Haha. I mean, it doesn’t have to be an additional job

True. Ideally, I’d like to earn around ₦1 million per month from a single, stable job rather than splitting myself across multiple roles.

I think one stable job might even help treat my anxiety. I’m constantly thinking about deliverables and deadlines, so that may be keeping me on edge. If I had one well-paying job, I’d have more time to work on my side hustle and scale my digital product. It would help give me more ownership of my time and money and contribute to my peace of mind. 

I don’t plan to wait for that one stable job, though. After my NYSC, I plan to focus heavily on personal branding and visibility on LinkedIn. I forgot to share this earlier, but I’ve been on and off Upwork since 2020. I couldn’t stay consistent because of everything I had to juggle. I plan to become more intentional and position myself for well-paying opportunities.

Rooting for you. Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

An international passport. I think I can afford this; I’ve just not budgeted for it. I think it’s about ₦100k now. I also want to upgrade my phone for content, and that should cost about ₦700k.

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

6. I’m still very anxious about money. But I’m still growing in my financial journey. The first raise I got at work this year happened after I asked, and they approved it immediately. 

That experience taught me that anything is possible with money. You can earn ₦400k this month and earn ₦3 million next month. It’s possible. So, I’m still in my learning phase. There’s a lot of growing to do when it comes to earning and managing money, but I’ll figure it out.

Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

It’s an easy promise to make when the bills are paid, but far harder when one person becomes the sole provider. 

From failed businesses and layoffs to investment scams and career setbacks, these Nigerians share the experiences that shaped their answer, and why some say they’d never do it again.

“I left because I was starting to hate him” — Favour*, 28, F

My ex-boyfriend lost his clothing business to a fire accident in 2024 and got into debt. We lived together, so I took on every bill in the house, from food to generator fuel, while he focused on getting back on his feet. I wasn’t earning much myself from my hair business, but I genuinely wanted to be supportive. 

After almost a year of carrying everything, his presence began to irritate me. It felt like all we talked about was something else I needed to pay for. I ended the relationship because I was starting to hate him. I also didn’t want to put him under undue pressure to start providing when he was barely feeding himself. It’d have been different if we were married. There’s no point staying in a situation like that when we’re just dating. I’d leave again and again.

“My girlfriend’s restaurant failed, and she shut me out” — Mayowa*, 27, M

In 2023, my ex-girlfriend invested her life savings of about ₦1.2m into opening a small restaurant. She’d run a catering business while we were in uni, and wanted to explore running a proper business after we graduated. 

The increase in fuel prices, coupled with rising food prices and low sales, forced her to close six months after launch. I tried my best to encourage her, but she became distant and irritable. It was impossible to communicate with her. Every conversation turned into an argument, and we eventually broke up.

I don’t believe my partner’s financial situation should determine if I choose to stay. In this case, how she handled the failed business ended us, not her finances. Everyone goes through tough times, but she refused to see that I was trying to be there for her.

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“He lost his business, but he never lost his drive” — Jola*, 32, F

My boyfriend imported phone accessories, and one shipment got seized at the port. Practically all his capital disappeared overnight. For almost six months, I assisted him financially and watched him start again from scratch. It wasn’t easy, but he never sat around waiting for miracles. 

He borrowed his dad’s car and registered on a cab-hailing service. He drove the cabs every evening and night and sold gadgets during the day. He even started a cleaning business.

We’re married now. I’m glad I stayed through that struggle phase. It showed me that hardship wouldn’t change his character, and whatever comes, he’s determined not to stay down. 

“I’d stay because I was the broke partner once” — Karim*, 33, M

I lost almost all my savings in 2022 to an investment scam. I didn’t even have a job because I was studying for my master’s degree. I expected my girlfriend to leave because I became completely broke. Instead, she sat me down and helped me create a realistic recovery plan. She never made me feel like I was a burden.

We eventually broke up due to genotype incompatibility, but we’re still good friends. I’m also in a much better financial situation. If, in the future, my significant other suddenly goes broke, I’d stay too. I was once the broke partner, and someone gave me grace.

“I’m not scared by the possibility of financial hardship” — Nonye*, 30, F

I have experienced both sides. Years ago, my ex lost his business and expected me to rescue him while he blamed everyone else for his problems. That relationship drained me emotionally and financially.

A few years later, my current partner’s company downsized, and he lost his job. The difference was night and day. He immediately started freelancing and cut back on expenses. He carried me along (still does) on every move he made and spoke openly about his challenges. That’s why I’m still in the relationship, even though he hasn’t gotten another 9-to-5 yet. 

I’m not scared by the possibility of financial hardship. Anything can happen, but what I won’t stand is someone expecting me to provide for him without showing workings that he’s actively trying to change his situation.

“I would have left if we weren’t already married” — Kike*, 38, F

My husband was unemployed for almost two years after the company he worked for shut down. I never complained publicly because I didn’t want to embarrass him, but privately, I resented him. I resented having to always think about money and calculate everything. My husband likes to look good. During his unemployment, he was still buying clothes and getting me to pay for them.

He eventually found another job, and we’re still together, but I won’t pretend love conquered everything. If we weren’t already married, I honestly don’t think I would have stayed.

“I almost inherited her black tax” — Nathan*, 29, M

My last girlfriend was her family’s breadwinner. It was even the source of most of our arguments. I thought she was doing too much for everyone, but she never agreed. Sometime in 2025, she got laid off, and her family turned their attention to me.

Her mum called because her brother was ill and they needed to borrow hospital bills. I didn’t even have much of a relationship with her mum, but I still sent her ₦50k. She never paid back. The following week, she called me to borrow again. Omo, I shut it down immediately, and the relationship ended because my ex “didn’t like how I talked to her mum.”

My only regret is not leaving earlier. See how I almost inherited black tax. I don’t see myself staying in another situation like that.

Would you stay, or would you walk away? Watch , the latest installation in the Â鶹ĘÓƵ Life Series, and join the conversation.

Like the stories above, asks what happens when financial hardship turns a relationship upside down. As Tola and Nazo struggle with unemployment, caregiving, and the pressure of making ends meet, they’re forced to decide whether love is enough. .

What’s your earliest memory of money?

It was wanting a Supa Strikas comic in primary school.

My school had an arrangement with a Mr Biggs restaurant to bring us snacks once in a while. Because of that, I assumed everything in Mr Biggs was free.

One day, while waiting for snacks, I saw a Supa Strikas comic in a corner and tried to grab it. The lady at the counter stopped me: “No, you have to pay for it.” That was the exact moment it clicked that things aren’t free; you actually need money to buy stuff. 

Let me guess, you didn’t have money?

Nope. My parents dropped me off and picked me up from school, so there was no reason for me to have cash at hand. I think the comic was about ₦50 at the time (around 1999 or early 2000s), and I had to beg my mum to buy it for me.

She gave me a condition. 

She ran a small shop on the side in addition to her full-time corporate job, and the condition was that I had to help out every Saturday morning until 1 p.m. I did that for four straight Saturdays before she finally bought the comic for me. 

What was your family’s financial situation like back then?

We were middle-class, not particularly rich, but not poor either. My dad worked at an FMCG company, and my mum worked at an insurance firm.

My parents were strict with money, though. They didn’t just get me things because I wanted them. For instance, when the console dropped, almost all my classmates had one, but when I asked, my mum refused and told me to focus on my studies. My dad was even stricter; if it wasn’t about education, you didn’t dare ask him for money.

But the thing was, I wanted money. I wanted to get things for myself without having to defend my reasons to my parents. This need led me to the first thing I did for money.

Tell me about it

I moved to a boarding school for JSS 1 and noticed I could make money from selling snacks. They weren’t allowed in the school, but of course, that never stopped anything. 

I became very good friends with one of the porters, and he’d buy me sweets from outside and bring them in. Then, I’d sell them to other students at double the price.

I became known as the guy who sold sweets. I felt like a secret agent making illicit deals. I spent every penny of that money on sweets and chin-chin. I was young, so I had no savings mindset; I was just spending frivolously. I stopped the business in JSS 3 when I almost got caught; contraband was a serious crime in school.

Did you try anything else for money in school?

In secondary school, no. The next time I tried to make money was in university. I got admitted in 2010, and by then, things had changed at home. My parents’ earning power dropped. I found out years later that they’d lost a substantial amount of money to bad investments.

In 100 level, my pocket money was ₦5k/week, which was really small. I went from a boarding school where all my needs were covered to entering uni and realising my parents couldn’t afford to give me more than a certain amount. It was a lot to deal with. 

My self-confidence took a hit. As a law student, I couldn’t even afford ₦1,000 to buy application forms for student chambers. I couldn’t afford to date or go out. My life was super boring. So, I decided to hustle. 

A friend ran a photocopy business, so I’d bring students who wanted to print or photocopy to him for a cut. My commission was usually ₦2,000 to ₦3,000 every week.

I also did word-of-mouth marketing and distributed flyers for a popular on-campus laundry service to get a commission when people patronised the owner. The main problem was that my pay depended on the owner’s mood. We didn’t negotiate anything, so he paid whatever he liked, usually between ₦5,000 and ₦12,000 every two weeks. 

Thinking about it now, he was taking advantage of me, but as a broke uni student, that extra cash meant a lot.

°Őłó±đĚý is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

How long did you do both hustles for?

From 100 level to 400 level. I stopped in my final year to focus on passing my courses. The lecturers were terrifying and had a reputation for failing people. People carried over courses for years, and I didn’t want that. So, I cut off every distraction and survived solely on my pocket money again.

I graduated in 2015 and went to Law School. I survived the one year there on pocket money and extra cash my aunt occasionally gave me whenever I begged her.

What came after Law School?

Instead of going straight for NYSC, I deliberately looked for work because I desperately needed money.

I landed a legal internship at a bank paying ₦35k/month. After two months, they increased my salary to ₦55k/month. To me, that felt like I had finally arrived. Coming from a ₦5k weekly allowance, ₦55k felt huge in 2016.

By a stroke of luck, I was able to save the last two months’ salaries of my internship year. So by 2017, when I went to NYSC orientation camp, I had ₦110k saved up. I blew the entire sum in those three weeks. 

Damn

I’m ashamed to say it too. But it was the first time I had that kind of spending power, so I was just spending. 

After camp, I moved on to my Place of Primary Assignment (PPA) at an insurance company. The job was a huge reality check. The company paid corps members ₦20k/month, but my friends who got into big law firms as NYSC associates were earning six-figure salaries. I was living at home, so food and shelter were covered, but seeing that gap showed me how much money was actually out there.

I also tried to save during my NYSC year, but it didn’t end well.

What happened?

Someone advised me to save at least ₦8k every month from my ₦19,800 allawee, so I did. Six months in, I had saved ₦48k. Then I got scammed.

Someone called me, pretending they had accidentally sent a code to my phone, and begged me to call it out. NaĂŻve and trusting, I gave them the code. They emptied the entire ₦48k. It doesn’t sound like much now, but back then, it was my entire world. I was devastated.

Phew. Sorry about that

Thank you. I completed my service in 2019 and decided not to stay at the insurance company. The place was toxic, and they paid peanuts.

I spent the next nine months unemployed, searching for jobs and volunteering at my mum’s shop while my friends kept their jobs at the law firms they served.

Eventually, in late 2019/early 2020, I got a Graduate Assistant (GA) job in the compliance department at another bank. My salary was ₦180k/month. It was my first time earning a significant amount of money, and it felt good.

In 2021, they bumped it up to ₦199k. The following year, I was promoted to Executive Trainee (ET), and my salary increased to ₦212k. My pay remained at that level until I left the bank in 2023.

Why did you leave?

I returned to the insurance company I worked at before. They offered me a legal role for ₦250k/month, and I naively took it because the pay was a bit higher and I assumed things would be better at the company. Someone should have really sat me down and explained how things actually work.

Within three months, I realised I’d made a mistake. The culture was still toxic, and people were backbiting and gossiping all over the place. It was not a nice experience at all. On top of that, my salary stayed stuck at ₦250k until I left in 2025.

Where did you move to next?

I landed my current job as a corporate legal officer in the energy sector. My salary tripled overnight to ₦750k/month.

Ooh. How did that feel?

Like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert. Sometimes I look at my account and ask, “Is this really me?” 

I don’t feel like I’ve arrived yet, but I know I’m no longer where I used to be. I’m finally out of the ghetto and can start building something.

Have there been any lifestyle changes?

I still live a fairly basic life. I finally moved out of my parents’ house last year and rented my own place for ₦1.2 million/year.

Paying ₦1.2m rent on a ₦750k monthly salary wasn’t too difficult. I also bought myself a PS5 for ₦510k early this year — something young me could never have dreamed of — and spent ₦600k to upgrade my phone.

Besides these, there haven’t been any drastic changes. I know how long it took to reach a small semblance of soft life, so I’m not taking it for granted. At least I have more disposable income and can even save a little.

How do you handle savings now?

I actually only started three months ago. I was a bit wary because of my past trauma from losing my savings to a scam, but I finally started locking ₦100k away every month on a savings app.

I lock it away so I can’t touch it, because if it’s accessible, a small voice in my head will convince me to spend it. Right now, my savings portfolio sits at ₦300k. I know there’s so much more I can do, and I hope to develop a better savings mindset soon because I’m really not getting any younger. 

A friend is also currently guiding me on how to invest in mutual funds and treasury bills, and I hope to get started soon. The goal is to reach a level where I can live solely on the passive income generated by savings and investments. My friend’s monthly passive income is currently more than his salary, and I want to get there so I don’t have to touch my salary.

Speaking of, let’s break down your typical monthly expenses

How would you describe your relationship with money today?

I feel like I’ve been chasing money for a very long time, and it keeps running away from me. But right now, it’s getting tired. It’s slowing down, looking back at me, and saying: “You this boy, you’ve been chasing me for so long. Let me slow down and hear what you have to say.”

Skrim. Is there an ideal amount of money you think you should be earning?

At least ₦1.2 million. This used to be an amount I could only dream of, but with my experience and knowledge of what my colleagues earn, I believe it’s possible to touch that income bracket. I don’t think it’s possible to settle down and be “comfortable comfortable” in Lagos without earning at least ₦1 million.

What’s something you want right now but can’t afford yet?

A car. There’s a Toyota model I’ve been eyeing since my university days. It used to be cheap, but right now it costs around ₦7.5 million. That’s my next major saving goal.

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

7. It took a lot of effort to get here. I’m nowhere near where I started, but I’m not where I want to be yet. 

My motto right now is “Almost there.” I feel that clearly describes my situation. I’ve almost caught up with my goals. I just need to push a little more.

Out of curiosity, do you have a timeline for moving from “Almost there” to “There”?

Before 35. So, I have four more years to make my dreams come true.

Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

We asked seven Nigerians about the most they’ve ever spent on a friend, relative, or colleague’s wedding. This is what they shared.

“I still haven’t financially recovered.” — Kolapo*, 29, M

The most I’ve spent was ₦4.2 million during my elder brother’s wedding in 2024. In my family, everyone contributes according to what they can afford, and because I was earning the most at the time, I naturally shouldered a large share of the expenses. The figure also rose that high because I bought him a deep freezer, a washing machine, and a generator as wedding gifts. 

I don’t resent it because my brother would’ve done the same for me. But it delayed my own plans for months. I had to postpone buying a car and dipped into investments I’d promised myself I wouldn’t touch. I still haven’t financially recovered.

“I knew the expenses would be wild, but I had to be there” — Muktar*, 33, M

In 2025, one of my old university friends got married in another state. The place was really far from Lagos, and I knew the expenses would be wild, but I couldn’t miss it because my entire friend group had to be there. 

I ended up spending around ₦950k on return flights, hotel and outfits for the traditional and white weddings. That’s before counting all the random contributions we did as a group for the wedding gift, souvenirs and drinks for the afterparty. 

It was an amazing reunion with old friends, but I really had no business spending that much.

“I thought I was only paying for aso-ebi” — Miriam*, 28, F

My very first aso-ebi girl commitment turned out to also be the last. 

Somehow, I thought all I had to pay for was the ₦40k aso-ebi material and a bit extra on tailoring. I didn’t know I also had to contribute to the bride’s wedding gift, bridal shower, and “aso-ebi girls” souvenirs. The wedding venue was some distance from my house, and they scheduled the traditional marriage for 7 a.m., which meant I had to stay overnight at a nearby hotel. 

By the end of the wedding, I calculated the hotel fees, makeup, transportation and all the contributions and realised I’d spent ₦620k. In this economy. I’ll never do that rubbish again.

°Őłó±đĚý is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

“My dad had money issues, so I stepped in” — Robiat*, 35, F

My dad’s business fell into some problems during my younger sister’s wedding planning, which affected his finances. As a result (and because I’m the first child), many of his responsibilities fell to me.

I spent close to ₦1 million on the food and drinks he needed for his guests, his clothes, and souvenirs. It would’ve been more if I hadn’t stylishly escaped from paying for the hall decorations. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that my dad knew he didn’t have money, but he still promised my sister he’d pay for decor. 

This happened in 2025, and I’m patiently waiting for my dad’s finances to pick up again. He must pay me back.

“I helped fund his wedding, but it led to our friendship’s end” — Joel*, 35, M

My ex-best friend and his fiancĂ©e planned a small wedding, but everything became more expensive as the date got closer. I kept stepping in whenever there was a funding gap, and before I knew it, I’d spent about ₦600k. That’s outside the ₦300k+ I spent on my suit and agbada.

The irony is that our friendship scattered after the wedding. I managed the money sprayed at the event, and the next morning, he “jokingly” said his wife thought the cash I handed over was too small compared to “what she saw people spraying.” I felt so insulted and confronted him, but he made it seem like I was overreacting. We didn’t immediately stop being friends after that, but the incident played a big role.

“It was a worthy sacrifice.” — Rachael*, 38, F

In 2024, I spent about ₦3.5 million flying into Nigeria to attend my cousin’s wedding. That included my outfits, accommodation, gifts, spraying money and contributing towards family expenses. I also bought some foodstuff that I took back home to the UK.

I knew what I was getting myself into with that wedding, so I didn’t mind spending that much. It was also an opportunity to visit friends and family I hadn’t seen in years. It was a worthy sacrifice. 

“I miscalculated and lost ₦100k” — Tabitha*, 29, F

A church member I was close to got married in 2025, and I somehow ended up on the church committee supporting their wedding. As a church, we wanted to raise ₦300k to support the couple, and I was in charge of rallying people to contribute.

Two weeks before the wedding, the bride had an emergency expense and asked if she could get the money early. By then, we’d only raised ₦100k. She needed ₦200k. Foolishly, I added my own money to make up the difference and gave it to her. I reasoned people would still contribute.

Brethren, they didn’t. Till today, no one has paid me my ₦100k back. It’s technically my fault because no one sent me message, but it’s still paining me.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: My Side Hustle Was Supposed to Be a Stopgap. Now I Run It Full-Time

Here, Peace shares her journey from making ₦5k as an event runner to building her own company, navigating the harsh realities of entrepreneurship, and her straight-talking advice for 9-to-5ers planning their exit.

This is Peace’s story, as told to Boluwatife

In 2024, after almost five years at Piggyvest, I suddenly decided to hand in my resignation.

On paper, it was a risky move. There was nothing wrong at work; they wanted me to stay.   A salary review was right around the corner. But I’d been restless for about a year and couldn’t suppress the urge to move anymore. 

Startup life is no joke. I was deeply burnt out and felt I had hit my peak in my role. I had secured my UK Global Talent Visa and wanted a fresh challenge and an international career.

Leaving felt like stepping into the complete unknown. To manage the anxiety of having no income, I built a plan.

First, I’d take a three to six-month break to rest and recover from burnout and live off my savings. While that was happening, I’d use the event company I had registered on a whim in 2023 as a financial stopgap before moving to the UK.

The irony of the situation? I was never supposed to be in a 9-to-5 in the first place.

The accidental 9-to-5er: How I got there

I never dreamed of corporate life. The idea of sitting in an office all day in formal outfits didn’t appeal to me. My foundation had always been in events and hustle.

Back in 2013, while struggling with JAMB after secondary school, I went for a runway modelling audition and failed miserably. But the casting director liked my energy and offered me a job as his personal assistant. That marked my entry into event production.

I started as a runner — running errands, posting on social media and doing whatever was needed for ₦5k – ₦10k per event — before finding my groove in technical front-of-house production, managing sound, lights, screens, and stage cues.

When I got into UNILAG in 2014 to study Microbiology, I kept doing event gigs and, for extra cash, I managed social media accounts. In my third year, I launched a ready-to-wear clothing business. I sourced fabrics in Yaba, sat with tailors, and hauled clothes back to campus at midnight to meet delivery timelines.

The business paid me enough to rent an apartment after I graduated in 2018. But in 2019, the business completely tanked. It was one of the worst financial years of my life. I was living on a single ₦40k/month social media gig and barely surviving.

Later that year, after serving my NYSC three-week orientation camp in Katsina, a friend sent me an internship opening at Piggyvest. I applied for the fun of it. 

To my surprise, they hired me at ₦75,000/month.

Piggyvest wasn’t the rigid corporate environment I feared. People wore sneakers to work, the energy was young, and I loved the work. I started as an intern handling fire-and-brimstone customer support on Twitter, fell in love with growth, and eventually climbed the ranks over four and a half years to become Head of Online Marketing, earning roughly 25x to 30x my starting pay.

As I climbed the professional ladder, my event production background never really left me.

Most events at Piggyvest naturally routed through me. End-of-year parties, brand activations, and Big Brother house integrations, I championed all of them. Even when we hired external event vendors, I managed them because I knew the ins and outs of showrunning. 

I was the “events person” at work, and I enjoyed it.

The exit strategy that didn’t go as planned

When I finally took the leap and resigned in 2024 to begin my rest period, the plan immediately fell apart.

The rest never happened.

In the same month I quit, client inquiries for event production began rolling in. While I was supposed to be on a relaxing holiday, I was answering client emails, hiring an admin assistant, managing vendors, and coordinating projects. One gig led straight into the next one.

Every time I said, “I think I’m ready to move to the UK now,” another project would land. I would tell myself, “Okay, after this one, I’ll go.” 

A year passed, two years now, and I still haven’t moved.

My temporary stopgap somehow became my primary, full-time venture.

The reality of running the business

Going from employee to business owner tested muscles I didn’t know I had.

If fintech was intense, event production in Nigeria is a different beast. It’s a ghetto inside a ghetto. My mental health during peak event seasons is practically non-existent. But unlike corporate work, this gives me a direct creative outlet. Watching an event space transform satisfies my creative side and makes the operational chaos worth it.

Running a business has also come with steep lessons.

In the beginning, I gave out too many discounts out of excitement. If I forgot an item in a budget, the cost came straight out of my personal pocket. I only realised how bad things had gotten when I hired an accountant, and we reviewed previous projects and saw a lot of red. It genuinely triggered me. Today, we have structured pricing and an accountant auditing everything.

Also, I lived on my savings for months after starting the business. Then I started paying myself random amounts every couple of months. I eventually realised that wasn’t sustainable in the long term. Now, I treat myself strictly as a company employee. Today, the business pays me a monthly salary equivalent to what I earned in my 9-to-5 job three years ago, leaving company profits intact for growth and end-of-year reserves.

I started the business without a team, but now we’ve grown to a 15-person team, 6 of whom are full-time employees. Over the past two years, we must have completed between 50 and 100 event projects.

Advice for 9-to-5ers looking to jump ship

If you’re sitting at your desk right now feeling burnt out and contemplating a jump into full-time business ownership, here is my advice:

• Don’t jump on a whim as I did: Give yourself time to figure things out. Have a real work ethic ready, because you will work harder for yourself than you ever did for a boss.
• Build a proper runway: Save at least six months’ worth of personal living expenses before you resign. You cannot dip into business revenue to pay your personal bills from day one.
• Test the waters first: If possible, start the venture as a side project while still employed. Having even one or two client leads before you leave gives you something to build on when you step out.
• Get comfortable with budget rejections: In events and business, clients will turn down your quotes because of the price. Don’t take it personally. It is far better to lose a deal than to undercharge and end up paying for a client’s project out of your own pocket.

Peace Obinani will lead a workshop at the Naira Life Conference 2026, offering practical insights and strategies from her playbook on turning a side hustle into a sustainable business. .

°Őłó±đĚý is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

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

How long have you been with your partner?

Roseline and I have been together for about a year.

How did you meet?

We met at a tech conference in 2025. Because of my job, networking is an important reason I attend conferences. I’m also quite outgoing, so meeting and connecting with people comes easily to me. 

In between sessions, I noticed Roseline standing at one corner of the lobby by herself, so I walked up to her and struck up a conversation. She was there alone and felt out of place since there was no familiar face, so I became her unofficial “plus one.” We followed each other around for the rest of the day.

The following day, we saw a movie together; we each bought our own tickets. After that, she treated me to brunch. We went to this upscale restaurant (which she chose), and she asked me to order whatever I wanted. 

Ooh. Bougie.

According to her, she wanted to thank me for helping her enjoy the conference. If I remember correctly, the bill came to about ₦90k. I was so surprised; I’d never met a Nigerian woman who was willing to spend her own money on a man who wasn’t her husband. 

We kept in touch after that. I’m not even sure exactly when we got into a talking stage. I just know we were talking almost every day, and we knew we liked each other. The talking stage lasted two months, and we were eventually like, “Let’s actually date for real.” We’ve been together since.

I feel like the brunch thing already gives it away, but what was Roseline’s financial situation? 

Oh, she’s a rich babe. I had an idea when we met at the conference. She holds a senior role at a major fintech company, so I wasn’t too shocked that she could afford to pay for the brunch. The fact that she would have money felt like a given.

However, about two months into our relationship, I realised she also comes from a wealthy background. Her family has money, and all her siblings are abroad. Finding out didn’t make much of a difference for me; it just gave a clearer picture of things.  

How so?

Roseline is very open about money. Even before we became official, she had told me her salary. The conversation started when she asked why “we HR people” don’t like revealing remuneration in job vacancies, and it somehow turned to our own salaries. 

She matter-of-factly said, “I earn ₦2 million.” Again, I’d never met any woman who’d openly share income figures with a romantic interest. It makes sense now that I know she’s never really struggled. I doubt anyone who grew up watching her parents hustle, or who had to hustle herself, would be that open. 

Also, she didn’t flinch when I told her my salary (it was ₦550k at the time). Our income gap is pretty wide and not in the commonly accepted order, where the guy earns more. If she’d grown up in a typical, average household, I doubt she’d be okay with that kind of financial dynamic, especially with all the stories of how men can become weird with women who earn higher. I mean, I’m not like that, but I wouldn’t blame any woman who would be scared of that possibility. 

Roseline doesn’t even think in that line. She’s the “money shouldn’t be an issue with love” type. I feel like that can only be your mindset when money was never a bad subject in your home growing up. 

°Őłó±đĚý is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

I see your point. What’s the financial dynamic in your relationship these days? Do you both have conversations about money?

It’s really not a major topic for us. To be honest, I’m actually enjoying dating a rich woman. She can wake up and be like, “Let’s go out this weekend. It’s my treat.” 

She doesn’t wait for me to spend money for us to have a good time. I pay for dates too, but since she’s often the one who brings them up, she insists on treating me. 

No one is billing me or asking to buy their data. I buy her gifts, but it’s more of an “I think Roseline will look good in this, let me get it for her,” and not a “I have to buy it, or she’ll complain” situation. 

She also buys me thoughtful gifts. For my birthday, she paid for a three-day staycation for us because I’d complained about being stressed at work. At least I’ve been freed from the shackles of receiving singlets and boxers as birthday gifts.

Love it for you. So, the income gap has never been an issue?

Between us, no. However, my friends and siblings think it might be an issue in the future. I recently started thinking about proposing to  Roseline, so I had to involve my family and some of our friends. That’s when a lot of them found out about the income gap. 

I’m not even sure why I told them. It was just one of those things that come up in conversations. Also, I’m not bothered by it, so I didn’t think saying things like, “My babe is richer than me o” could be an issue for people. Apparently, it is. 

What have the reactions been like?

It’s been a lot of “Ah. She won’t respect you,” and “It can become a big problem down the line.” One person even asked if I expected her to leave her family house in Ikoyi and come and live with me in Ketu. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about that. Of course, by the time we get married, I’d need to rent a bigger space, but will she be comfortable with Ketu? 

I think the many naysayers have started to put some doubt in my mind. Roseline and I haven’t really talked about what our financial dynamic would look like if we get married, but I assumed it’d be a joint approach. I know she’ll most likely think the same if we talk about it, but now I sometimes catch myself wondering if it’ll work out in the long run. 

When those thoughts come, I try to snap myself out of it by reminding myself that my current financial situation won’t be permanent. I’m earning this low because of the company I work for. I know people on my level who earn over ₦1 million. I just need to position myself for better opportunities to earn more. I can’t let fear or people’s opinions sabotage the best relationship I’ve ever had.

I reckon a wedding will come after the proposal. Do you have a plan to fund it?

The proposal isn’t till later in the year, and the wedding should be in 2027. I do have some money saved away. Every month, I save at least ₦100k; half in my regular savings and the other half in equity funds, which is essentially my wedding fund. 

I have about ₦700k in the equity funds, which is nowhere near enough to pay for a wedding. I’m looking to change jobs soon, though. There’s one that might click soon. If it does, I intend to start saving at least 50% of my income and cut down on unnecessary expenses to double my portfolio by next year. 

Plus, I have family and friends. I’m sure that, when the time comes, we’ll be able to raise whatever we need for a wedding. 

What’s the ideal financial future you’d like for you and Roseline?

This is more of a short-term future, but I’d really like to be able to afford a destination honeymoon abroad. That’s my next big goal.

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

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: He’s Perfect, but I Don’t See a Future With an Overspender

What’s your earliest memory of money?

I was in junior secondary school when I realised money could get me things I actually wanted. My parents didn’t give us money to school since we brought food with us. When I was JSS 2 or JSS 3, after a streak where I consistently came out first or second in class, my dad asked what I wanted as a reward. I told him I wanted a Mongoose bicycle. He bought it.

The bicycle cost ₦50k or ₦60k, which felt like such a huge amount of money to me. The experience made me realise that money was a thing that could give someone access to many other things.

What was the financial situation like at home growing up?

My dad was a petroleum engineer at an oil and gas company, and my mum ran our family business, supplying agricultural tools and industrial cleaning equipment to ports and factories. I’d say we were middle-class. We lived in an estate and were comfortable. 

However, things weren’t always steady financially. In 2015, when I was in JSS 3, my dad was laid off from work during a corporate reshuffling. Right before that happened, my parents had lost money to an importer who scammed them on a supply deal.

It was a tough period. My dad became very quiet and kept to himself. The weekend shopping trips to the mall stopped, and we cut back on things like cornflakes and branded chocolates. Thankfully, we didn’t have to change schools, but it shook us up a bit.

Was this the first time you did something to earn money?

Somewhat. During the long holiday right after JSS 3, I was often at the family business, helping my mum out at her office.

One Saturday, a customer came in while my mum was away, and I managed to sell them some tools. When my mum returned, I handed over the money, and she gave me about ₦10k from the proceeds.

What did you do with the money?

I took my younger brother to a game house, we played PS4 games, and I spent the rest on sweets and snacks. I didn’t save a single kobo.

When did you start earning money consistently?

That was in uni. My first stint was in my first year in 2021. My lecturer assigned us Python and C++ projects, but many of my classmates struggled with them. I’d already learned programming languages from the STEM club in secondary school, so I had no issues. 

I offered to help, charging ₦3k per student. It was a weekend assignment, and I did it for five classmates, making ₦15k total. That was just a one-off service, though. I didn’t need to make it a thing. I regularly got between ₦30k and ₦40k in pocket money each month and always got food and provisions from home. My allowance was mostly for miscellaneous expenses like assignment printouts.

Then, in 2023, during my second year, I started working remotely for a friend’s agency. They handled research projects for master’s and PhD students. Whenever they got clients whose research work required data science projects or machine learning models, I would build them while my colleague handled the research writing.

How much did that pay?

Payment wasn’t fixed; it depended on the client’s budget and my negotiation. On average, I made between ₦30k and ₦100k per project. I worked there for a year and handled about five projects in that time.

In late 2024, during my final year, someone in a WhatsApp group chat posted an opening for a Junior AI Engineer at a US startup. I applied and got the role. The salary was ₦250k/month.

Juggling the job and final year was extremely stressful. I would be in lectures, and Slack notifications would pop up about pending tasks or a broken feature in a production environment. Thankfully, my project supervisor was understanding about my schedule, and my academic performance stayed solid.

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How long did you stay in that role?

Six months. I left in April 2025 after a Twitter contact introduced me to a healthcare startup that needed AI engineers. They offered better pay and flexibility structured around two-week .

Depending on my performance per sprint, I earned between ₦300k and ₦600k per month. I left the job after three months because of office politics. The environment was taking a toll on me and making me doubt my potential. I didn’t even have a backup plan; I just quit to protect my mental health. I was done with uni at this point, but still sorting out my clearance.

What was your next move?

In August 2025, I got hired as an AI Engineer by an Indian company. The pay was pegged to Indian Rupees, converting to roughly ₦300k to ₦400k monthly.

However, this company also fumbled. There were talks of management mismanaging funds. We worked through the Christmas and New Year holidays, but salary payments stopped in December. I walked away in February 2026 when I got tired of the excuses and heard that some Indian employees had been waiting six months for their salaries. They still haven’t paid me.

Sigh. What have you been doing since February?

Freelancing. I get most of my clients from Twitter or via referrals. 

How has that been?

Honestly, it’s a struggle. With freelancing, there are days of joy and days when you get zero gigs and are just managing your life.

In a month, I can make between ₦200k and ₦300k. Sometimes, in a good month, it can stretch to around ₦350k. There are also months when I make zero naira.

How do you cope during the dry spells?

My mum is my safety net. I still live near my university campus, and my mum pays my annual rent of ₦250k and regularly sends me food. If I ever go broke or run into financial trouble, she steps in and helps me with cash.

For instance, I got into crypto futures trading early this year. I was considering different ways to make money, and everyone was talking about trading, so me too, I put my hand. I didn’t do any official training. I was just trading based on what I knew and learned online.

I had some wins, but instead of enjoying them, I greedily put the gains back into trading, trying to win more. Eventually, it’d go bust, and I’d lose money. At my worst, I lost between $300 and $500.

I was in that cycle for a few months before I eventually quit. The losses were becoming crazy, and the risk of wiping out your entire wallet on a margin call is too high. I don’t plan to trade again in this life. If I’m serious about money, I’d rather buy stocks and keep them. I’ve been researching the stock market and recently started investing, and it’s going much better. 

At least if you make losses in the stock market, they’re just paper losses. You’ve not actually lost that money until you decide to sell the stocks. You can even decide to buy the dip and wait for the stocks to improve. But in trading, there’s nothing like paper loss. Once the loss starts happening, you either exit the trade. If you don’t get out in time, it’s going to hit your margin call. So whatever balance was in your trading wallet might also be wiped out due to the margin call.

Right. How would you describe your relationship with money?

I’m an impulse spender. If I want something and I have the money, I buy it. If it’s slightly above my budget, I’m the type of person who could take a loan to buy it because I know I have my mum’s support to cover my bills.

Though, as I said, I’m becoming more interested in stocks these days because I want to be intentional about growing the money I have. I started with the random ₦5k here and there in 2025, but after the crypto experience, I’ve become more serious with it. Now, I have about ₦500k in two Nigerian stocks and close to ₦1m in mutual funds.

I notice you didn’t mention savings

Yeah. I have nothing in savings. Once money enters my hand, I send about 50% to my mutual funds or stocks account and spend the rest. I don’t have much financial responsibility right now, so I don’t see a need to save. Maybe when I’m in my 30s and have a family, the pressure will increase, and my attitude to savings will change. But I’m still 23. Let me enjoy my 20s first.

What do your monthly running expenses look like currently?

After removing the 50% to investments:

What do the next few years look like for you? Is the plan to keep freelancing?

I hope to get back into 9-to-5, but there’s no strict timeline for now. If it comes, great. I’m just going with the flow right now.

Is there an ideal amount of money you think you should be earning right now?

If it’s a 9-to-5, an ideal monthly income would be between ₦500k and ₦1.5m.

What’s something you want right now but can’t afford?

To leave Nigeria. As an AI engineer, if I move to a developed country, I know my earning potential will skyrocket, and I won’t have to deal with police harassment. But the process is too expensive. Everyone should just get their PVC and vote for better governance.

How about the last thing you bought that made you happy?

An M4 MacBook Air I bought in December 2025. A vendor friend discounted it for me at ₦1.5 million, down from the retail price of ₦1.8 million to ₦2 million. I funded it entirely from my freelancing income.

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

5. I miss having a predictable fixed income. With a 9-to-5, you can plan your life around a fixed monthly income. Freelancing sometimes feels like living on borrowed time, because you can get a gig today and get nothing the next month. At least, I have my mum, and she rescues me sometimes.

Also, I feel like my stock investment is promising. I don’t have a fixed timeline, but my goal is to hit my first $10k. It’s possible. People have up to $100k and even more. Once I hit that first $10k, things will only get better.

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This is Idris’ story, as told to Boluwatife.

Two years ago, I was a final-year student at the University of Lagos (UNILAG). I was right at the finish line, but financial setbacks caught up with me. There was no money to continue, and I had no help, so I had to drop out.

For a while, I was stuck asking myself, “What do I do now?”

I needed money to survive, but I didn’t want to take just any available job. I had tried marketing before, working for fintech brands as a campus ambassador, but it was too stressful. What I actually enjoyed was cycling. I realised I could deliver packages on a bicycle to earn a living and escape life’s troubles while doing what I loved.

That was how I became a delivery rider.

Moving to Swoop

Sometime in March/April, I was working with another delivery company. I wasn’t satisfied with how stressful the setup was, but I kept pushing because I needed to move forward. One day, someone shared a flyer for a new food delivery app called .

I downloaded the user app and thought, “Why not check if they have a rider app?”

They did.

I signed up, my account got approved, and I decided to give it a shot the next day. The moment I completed my first order, I liked how straightforward it was. On Swoop, you just pick up food from the restaurant and take it to the customer; no complicated steps. The pay per delivery was higher, and I was getting consistent orders. Within four days, I decided to focus on Swoop full-time.

It was a new platform, but one thing I’ve learned from years in the delivery business is that customers don’t necessarily change across platforms. In this industry, you deal with all kinds of people every day. 

Some customers look down on you like you’re nobody, acting like, “Just give me my order and get out.” But I never let it get to me. I always remind myself that a hungry man is an angry man. Once you understand that, it’s easy to stay calm and treat everyone with respect, no matter their attitude.

And then there are the great days and customers who tip well. I once had a Swoop customer who was so impressed by my speed and politeness that they tipped me ₦5,000 on a single delivery. Those small moments made the daily hustle feel worthwhile.

Three months into the job, my income was starting to stabilise, and things were looking good. I didn’t know a massive storm was building in the background.

Facing homelessness

One day in early July, my landlord handed my roommate and me a quit notice. They wanted to renovate the building, and we had to move out.

Anyone who lives in Lagos knows a quit notice might as well be a death sentence. 

Finding a house in this city is a nightmare. An apartment’s rent might be ₦300,000 or ₦400,000, but by the time agents add agreement, commission, and total package fees, the total bill jumps to over ₦1 million. My share of the money needed to secure a new apartment was around ₦500,000 to ₦600,000 — money I did not have sitting in an account.

Right in the middle of this panic, Swoop reached out to me. They said they wanted to do a media feature and would spend a full day filming me to understand how I work, interview me about my background, and document my daily routine as one of their top riders.

Honestly, my head wasn’t fully there. I was tired, stressed about housing, and thinking, “Abeg, nobody should stress me today.” But of course, I couldn’t let my emotions show.

On the day of the interview, I put on my gear, smiled for their cameras, and did my deliveries professionally. As a delivery rider, I simply can’t pass my personal frustrations onto customers. I just kept praying for God to help me. I needed a miracle because there was no way I was going to solve my housing crisis without help. 

The turnaround

The Swoop media team spent the entire day following me around while I worked. At some point, I began hoping they’d at least gift me something. 

Surely, they couldn’t be following me around without a reward in mind, right? But every time my mind strayed to the possibility of getting a gift, I pushed the thought out. I’m a bit unlucky when it comes to hoping for things. My predictions don’t often turn out well, so I tried to let it go and just focus on doing my thing.

By nightfall, it started raining heavily. I was exhausted, cold, and just wanted to get something to eat and go home to sleep.

After shooting what I thought was the final scene in the rain, they said, “There’s one more thing.”

They handed me a letter. I joked to myself, asking if it was a love letter. But when I opened it and read the words inside, my brain froze:

“From all of us at Swoop, we would like to give you a token of appreciation of ₦1,000,000.”

I pulled off my raincoat cap in complete disbelief. I asked them if they were joking because it honestly felt like a prank. I’d never touched that amount of money at once before in my entire life, and it felt so unbelievable. I was moved to tears right there in the rain.

The first person I called was my best friend and roommate.

“Baba, where are you?” I shouted over the phone. “Come meet me at UNILAG right now!”

He’s a rider too, and he flew all the way from Mushin to meet me. When I showed him the letter, he started jumping up and down right there on the road. We both knew the pressure we had been living under regarding the quit notice.

What came next

The very first thing I did was take out ₦500,000 for my share of the house rent and deposit it with my roommate so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch it. It’s still unbelievable to think that, in a matter of hours, the threat of homelessness disappeared.

After sorting out house rent, I addressed the second most important thing in my life right now: my cycling dream. My ultimate ambition is to become a professional cyclist and compete globally, specifically in the Tour de France. 

I bought myself a proper racing bicycle so I could apply to official cycling clubs in Lagos. I also bought a better phone to document my journey, though it was unfortunately stolen shortly after. Still, I refuse to let that ruin the bigger picture.

Days after Swoop posted videos of my win online, of course, billing followed. As Nigerians, we are used to this. The moment people hear you’ve touched money, people who haven’t called you in forever suddenly remember you exist. To protect myself, I made sure I settled the housing and my racing bike first. Whatever little was left, I used it to gift the few people I could, telling the rest straight up what was left.

At the same time, the video has consistently led people my way, all wanting to learn more about Swoop. Even my fellow delivery riders from other platforms began calling me, teasing me as the “Swoop Golden Boy” and asking how to join. I’m not surprised. I’ve never heard of a delivery company gifting a rider this much. 

Consistency really pays. I was focused on my work and showing up in style. See how far that has brought me. When Swoop handed me that letter, they didn’t just make my day, they made my year, and changed the entire trajectory of my life. 

I still have the letter, and I intend to keep it for my grandchildren. It’s a major achievement for me, and they need to see it, too.

What’s your earliest memory of money?

I remember my parents giving my siblings and me ₦20 daily in primary school. It wasn’t big money, but it was the standard among my classmates. We used it to buy sweets and biscuits. 

I also remember we celebrated special milestones, like birthdays or passing exams, by cooking chicken at home. It wasn’t like we only ate chicken on special days; it was just the sign that something good had happened, or that my dad was in the mood to treat us. 

What was the financial situation at home?

My dad was a businessman, and my mum was a teacher. Their incomes afforded us good schools and nice clothes. I vividly remember my mum travelling from Abuja to Lagos just to buy our Christmas clothes, so we weren’t poor.

We weren’t rich, either. We had periods of lack and experienced the usual landlord kicking us out of the house for late rent and all that. My siblings and I were also driven home from school a few times due to unpaid fees or a lack of textbooks.

However, even when we had money problems, my parents maintained a high standard. When we were sent home for school fees, they locked us indoors so the neighbours wouldn’t know. They also strictly forbade us from speaking pidgin English. People in our neighbourhood assumed we were wealthy but had hit a rough patch. My parents were just trying their best to raise us.

When was the first time you did something to earn money?

JSS 2 or JSS 3. During one holiday, my siblings and I organised lessons for younger children in the neighbourhood. At first, we did it for fun to pass the time, but the class grew to about 20 children. They paid ₦20 or ₦50 each, and we pooled the money to buy biscuits and other minor things.

We also sold homemade “vim” around the same time. We ground eggshells and mixed them with ash and detergent. Then we sieved the mixture and sold it as scouring powder to scrub cooking pots. It actually sold quite well, considering we did it for fun. We dropped it after two months. I don’t even remember how we spent the money we made.

The next time I tried something for money was during my diploma, just before university. I don’t know if it counts because it was so short-lived.

Tell me about it

It was 2016, and my sister and I were running a diploma programme to get us into uni via direct entry. We lived together away from home and didn’t have a structured monthly allowance. My parents just stocked us up with foodstuff and provisions. We called home if we needed money.

However, there was one period when we were incredibly broke and hungry. Out of desperation, I took a job at a local restaurant. The pay was ₦5k/month, but my main motivation was the free food. I served food, cleared tables, and washed plates, and in addition to the salary, my employer gave workers breakfast and dinner. 

I didn’t last more than a week there, though. It was so stressful, and it only took me a few days to realise I couldn’t survive that life. So, I gave them a random excuse and stopped going. I didn’t lose anything because I just wanted to eat, and I did.

After that incident, I finished my diploma and moved on to uni. I didn’t need to do anything for money until I graduated in 2022 because I was getting pocket money.

What did you do next?

I got a job as a special needs teacher. The salary was technically ₦20k/month, but the school remitted only ₦18k to me. They held the remaining ₦2k to save and return it as a lump sum whenever I resigned. I think it was like a pension arrangement. 

A few months in, I approached the school director and asked for a raise. The woman was quite nice. She agreed, and my take-home pay increased to ₦25k/month. I worked there for eight months and eventually quit when I got tired. I didn’t like the way the teachers struggled to survive. 

They were trapped in a cycle of collecting salary, spending it all to clear debts, and borrowing again until the next payday. Some teachers would be in school by 7 a.m., work till 3 p.m. and still do private tutoring for extra money until 7 p.m. I knew I didn’t want that life.

Did you secure another job before you quit, though?

Somewhat, but it wasn’t exactly a job. Just before I left the school, I got an opportunity with the National Population Commission (NPC) for the proposed 2022 national census. I trained as a Specialised Workforce (SWF) facilitator. If the census had held, my job would have been to train the enumerators.

The facilitator’s training lasted two weeks, and they paid me ₦171k. Then we started hearing stories of embezzlement and corruption, and the operation was suspended. Later, we heard the census was back on, and we did a three-day refresher training. I made ₦46k from that. However, things scattered again and the census eventually didn’t hold. Some facilitators have actually not been paid to this day. Fortunately, I got mine.

When it didn’t work out, I decided to go for NYSC. This was in 2023. My Place of Primary Assignment (PPA) was at a government parastatal, where I mostly did admin work.

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What was your income like during the service year?

The parastatal didn’t pay corp members, but luckily, I was posted to the office of a lawmaker representing my home constituency. He graciously decided to pay the corp members a ₦30k stipend on top of the ₦33k NYSC allawee.

In May 2024, one month before rounding up my service year, I started a business selling wristwatches. The business really pushed me out of my comfort zone because I’m naturally shy, but I had to pack my watches in my bag and knock on random office doors to sell. 

My efforts paid off, though. The profit margin on each sale was high. I could buy one piece for about ₦10k and resell it for ₦22k or ₦25k. I just had to make sure the watches were non-tarnishable so I could build trust and get returning customers.

In slow months, I made ₦50k to ₦80k, but in peak months, I cleared ₦100k to ₦150k in profit. 

What happened after you completed your service year?

I continued the business since I was still at the office. They’d asked if I was willing to stay on and work full-time, and I excitedly agreed. I even told my mum that our prayers had finally been answered and that my life was changing for the better.

I assumed that, since it was a government agency, I would make good money. However, at the end of the month, they paid me the same ₦30k stipend I was getting as a corp member. 

I questioned it, arguing that as a full-time employee, I deserved a proper salary. After dragging out the issue for two months, they added a mere ₦10k, bringing it to ₦40k/month under the title of “Office Assistant.” 

I did everything from managing the website and compiling lists of over 1,000 names for empowerment programmes to working as the office errand girl and dishwasher whenever guests came to eat. I tolerated it until late 2025 because I had no other options, all while applying for jobs everywhere. I was also still selling my wristwatches. 

My breaking point came when a position opened up within the office, and instead of giving it to me despite my experience, they nominated a new guy. When I found out and challenged them, they said he was “a man and had more bills to pay.” 

The heck?

See. The blatant misogyny was so annoying. Unknown to them, I had been quietly training on the side for a remote debt-collection and customer-support gig. 

The agency was recruiting people to work for a US-based brand, so the idea was that after the training, I’d get the job. So, when that issue at the government agency happened, I stopped going to the office.

The remote gig was temporary, though. I did the onboarding and worked for one week, earning ₦75k. Unfortunately, the company suddenly decided to lay off their Nigerian contractors, so I was let go.

While that was happening, the government agency realised they couldn’t handle the workload without me. They begged me to return, saying they’d removed the guy’s name from the nomination list and put mine instead. They also claimed the job would click within a few months and that my pay would increase. 

I agreed to return, but on my own terms: I only went in twice a week. Half the time, I only went to the complex to move around and sell my wristwatches because it was the business that kept me afloat.

Did the government job eventually click?

It didn’t. I left in January 2026 when I got another job as a personal assistant/secretary to a consultant. My new salary was ₦150k/month.

At this point, my wristwatch business had slowed down due to a lack of customers. Sadly, the new job turned out to be another misrepresentation. I was promised a project management path with opportunities for interstate travel. Instead, it turned out to just be me running personal errands for my boss all day. I wasn’t satisfied with that. That’s not what I came to this life to do.

Even worse, the salary payment structure was highly inconsistent. One month, it would come on the 2nd; the next month, on the 11th. I had even spent ₦50k upgrading my laptop’s hard drive from an HDD to an SSD in January because she claimed I would handle some projects remotely, but I never ended up using the laptop for anything meaningful.

Sigh

Between April and May, I requested a formal review of my job description so we could align on my actual professional duties. My boss took it as a personal insult and told the mutual connection who introduced us that I was being disrespectful and that she was going to fire me.

She then went on an unannounced international trip for over a month. I kept showing up to an empty office, reading on my laptop, and sending daily “activity reports” on absolute nothingness just to fulfil righteousness. Before travelling, she intentionally told our mutual contact that she would pay my May salary early so I would “spend it and waste it” before my birthday in June, after which she’d fire me.

She returned, paid my June salary on July 2nd, and officially fired me on the 10th.

That’s terrible. How are you handling the sudden loss of income?

Honestly? I felt relieved. The environment was draining, and I wasn’t growing. I was already exhausted and deeply unhappy with that phase because it wasn’t what I had imagined for myself. The only small positive was the money.

To keep myself from slipping into a depression or wallowing in anger, I woke up early the following Monday, dressed up sharply, and went straight to a friend’s office at the government agency. I tweaked my CV and have been actively submitting it to different offices and places ever since.

Do you have savings to fall back on?

I don’t have any savings. Between the high cost of transportation, black tax and data, it was impossible to keep anything aside. In fact, the very month I received my first ₦150k salary, my phone spoiled. I had to get a new phone through a Buy Now, Pay Later platform. For the next four months, I was paying about ₦50k/month to complete the payment. That money was supposed to go into my savings, but it went into the phone instead.

Before that, on the ₦40k salary, saving was completely out of the question. Even with the wristwatch business, there was no real structure. I spent the money as it came. If someone bought a watch, I’d immediately use the cash to cover my transport to my main job. 

I’ll admit that I’m not a big saver. When I really need to keep money away from myself, I have to give it to someone else to hold for me. I used to have a savings app on my phone, but I would always end up going back into the app to withdraw the money. The inconsistency of my income and the sheer cost of things made it hard. Even if you don’t buy big things like clothes, shoes, or hair, you become an adult, and people start looking up to you. Siblings or family members can just ask for ₦3k or ₦5k, and as an adult, you have to turn up for them.

Can you break down what your expenses used to look like?

I live in Abuja, and transportation is a major cost. There are frequent price hikes. Sometimes I had to borrow money from my mum to cover expenses before salary day.

Pending when you get another job, what’s the plan for day-to-day survival?

My family is very supportive. I live with my family, so I don’t have to worry about rent or food. It’s just adult things like going out with friends that I can’t afford right now. I’ve even had to ghost most of my friends to avoid the pressure of spending money I don’t have. 

I believe this unemployment is just a phase, though. I’ll keep searching and hoping for the best. I’ll be alright.

Fingers crossed. What would be the ideal monthly income you’d expect from a new job?

₦300k – ₦400k

Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

Many things, but mostly the independence of not having to worry about money. I just want to have money for its own sake. I have people who have helped me that I want to be there for, like my mum, but I can’t afford to do anything for them. It’s a concern for me.

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

4 or 5, even though I really feel like it’s a zero. At least, I have a roof over my head. But there are many things I can’t do because I don’t have money.

When things finally fall into place, that number should go up to 9 or 10, especially when I am able to make my mum proud and improve the lives of the people around me. For now, I’m continuously applying for jobs and hoping for better days.

Find all the past Naira Life stories here.