Hello, I’m here again. Sigh.
The first time I realized I was fighting for my relationship against Lagos, I was stuck in third mainland traffic, staring at a text from my boyfriend that read:
“Babe, I’m so sorry. We can’t facetime tonight. I’m working overtime. Work emergency.”
At this point, I didn’t know if I was dating a person or a 9-5 job…with feelings. The message from him didn’t even come as a surprise to me.
I sighed, closed my eyes, and tried to remind myself that this wasn’t his fault. My mind took me back to this one time I tried to be cute, and I facetimed him during my break time at the office. Hehe, biggest mistake ever.
So, picture this. It’s a random Wednesday afternoon, I’m on my lunch break, and I decide to do something sweet—video call my boyfriend. Awww, right?
Wrong.
Because tell me why the next thing I hear is a chorus of ‘ehehnn and hmmss’ followed by not-so-subtle coughs and his very panicked “Oh my God” in the background. Apparently, I had FaceTimed him while he was projecting his screen in a company-wide meeting and my name—”My Baby Girl “—boldly flashed across the giant conference room screen for all his bosses and colleagues to see. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the reality of dating a corporate working-class man in Lagos.
Between his deadlines, back-to-back meetings, and my own endless to-do list, sometimes it feels like we’re in a long-distance relationship—even though we literally live in the same city. Lagos will do that to you.
The work culture here is so intense. You wake up at 4 AM when it’s still dark (to beat traffic,) spend hours at work trying to prove yourself, and by the time you’re finally free, the only thing you have energy for is sleep. Lagos is a madness we’re all caught up in. It doesn’t just steal your money, it steals your time, your social life, and in this case—my boyfriend?
“Babe, I have to finish this project.” “Babe, my boss just dropped something urgent.” “Babe, I’m so tired, can we talk tomorrow?” When does it end?
I tapped my phone and responded to his message, ‘I understand, it’s fine.’ I looked out through the window and let out a long breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I felt a lone tear drop as I allowed the wind to caress my skin with chill consolations—strands of hair from my wig plastering around my face. I wondered if I truly was in a relationship sometimes, I knew all of this wasn’t his fault, I knew he loved me, and I knew he cared. It was just…time.
But damn, was I tired. Tired of rescheduling, tired of sending “I understand” texts, tired of our entire relationship being squeezed into the constraints of the Lagos hustle.
The irony is, I knew exactly what I signed up for. We both work corporate jobs, both spend hours in front of screens, both leave home early to come back. The cycle is exhausting, but we’re still figuring it out, I guess. While I try to be intentional about separating my personal life from work, my boyfriend is the type who throws himself completely into work—and when he receives a break from it, he never hesitates to spend that time with me. But then, the breaks are super limited. Kilode, na work you wan work, you no kill person.
On the bright side, we made it work. Amidst the chaos—we always make it work. Though I adapted to the status quo, I stopped expecting midweek date nights or hour-long evening calls. I stopped expecting long detailed texts and settled for “good morning, baby” and “how was your day, my love?” Weekends were our saving grace.
See, weekends in Lagos are sacred, and I like how everyone tries to keep it that way. They’re the only time we can pretend we have work-life balance, even though some of us truly don’t. It’s the only time we can escape from emails, calls, and endless “urgent” tasks, so we try to maximize them when we can.
Some weekends, it’s simple—lazy brunch dates, watching Netflix, movie dates or simply enjoying each other’s company. Other times, we go all out—art galleries, dinner dates, owambe together—anything to remind ourselves that life exists outside of work. Sounds like a beautiful resolution, right? Dey Play. Lagos will always be Lagos, so even the weekends are unpredictable. Like the time we planned a cute dinner date, only for traffic to turn a 15-minute drive into a 3-hour nightmare, or the time we spent Valentines in traffic.
At least we both love suya, so we just typically stop at the nearest suya spot and buy suya to eat through the ride and complain about the state of Nigeria while gasping for air from the intense mallam suya pepper.
I found myself smiling again as the bus pulled over at my bus stop. I actually love that man, haew. This is worth it. It is Romance, but make it Lagos edition.
Love,
Fefe.
