Interview Day


Dear Diary,
You will not believe the day I had today.
Knowing how important this interview was for me, I woke up really early just to make sure I got to the location before 10 a.m. I made my way to the bus stop and waited for a cab going in my direction.
While I was standing there, a young man suddenly called out to me, “Yellow pawpaw, where you dey go?” Ugh. Of course, he would say that—just because I’m fair in complexion.

“Wuse,” I replied sharply, clearly irritated.
Then he snapped back, “Why you dey talk to me like that? Ashawo like you.”
I was so disgusted. I ignored him and quickly rushed into a cab heading my way, still burning with anger. Imagine being insulted like that by a total stranger, and to make it worse, I had to squeeze into the back seat with three other passengers.
Just when I thought the worst part of my morning was over, I suddenly felt a hand on my lap. It was the man sitting right next to me. He was rubbing his left hand all over my lap like it was nothing! I slapped his hand away and cautioned him. People in the cab started giving him side-eyes, and then he mumbled an apology, blaming it on how “tight” the cab was. Seriously? I didn’t believe a word of it.
By the time I arrived at the interview centre, I was already drained—frustrated, angry, and just emotionally exhausted. After a short wait, I was called in and sat in front of the interviewer. He looked over my credentials and said:
“Your credentials show you’re qualified for the job, but are you willing to do what it takes to get the job? You’re a very beautiful girl—hope you understand me?”
Diary, I was stunned. I knew exactly what he meant. He was asking me to sleep with him in exchange for the job. I couldn’t hold back—I gave him a piece of my mind and walked right out of that office without looking back.
When I got home, I poured everything out to my family. I just had to rant about what a horrible day it was. The world can be so unfair sometimes. I was just trying to chase my dreams, and instead, I faced insults, harassment, and manipulation—all in one morning.
Hoping tomorrow will be better. – Me, a Tired Nigerian Girl.


Money Way
Dear Diary,
I’m honestly so tired of hearing these young men complain about how every Nigerian girl just wants money in a relationship. Like, seriously, how much do these guys even have? They’re always so insecure about money, but that’s not any girl’s fault.


Let me take you down memory lane.
During my NYSC days, I used to date a doctor. When we first started dating, he would take me out sometimes and buy me little things—like roasted fish and drinks. And to be honest, I didn’t mind that he didn’t give me transport money or buy me fancy gifts. It didn’t matter to me at the time because I genuinely loved him—not his money.
But as time went on, I started to notice that he really didn’t care about those little gestures. He didn’t bother with helping out financially, and even though I told myself it wasn’t why I was with him, it started to sting a little. Let’s be real—every girl wants to feel pampered and loved in some way. So I decided to at least ask him to start picking me up whenever we were going out, just to ease the stress a bit.
Then things got tough for me financially. I was struggling to transport myself to my place of primary assignment. I needed help. But I knew how he thought—that every girl was out to use him—so I didn’t want to ask him for money directly. Instead, I told him plainly that I didn’t have transport fare for work, hoping he’d offer to help.
To my utmost surprise… he didn’t. He completely ignored my situation.
I was hurt, Diary. I let it slide, trying to convince myself not to overthink it. But then, the next day, he sent me a text—calling me a gold digger.
That was it for me. I ended things right there and then.
And now, when I hear guys say all girls want is money, I just roll my eyes. They never talk about the times we love genuinely, without expectations—when we support, when we ask for nothing, and still get insulted.
I’m tired, Diary. Tired of being misunderstood, tired of being lumped into a stereotype I don’t even fit into.
– Me, a Tired Nigerian Girl.
Marriage Wahala
Dear Diary,
“When are you getting married?” — that was the first thing my aunt said to me after seeing me for the first time in five whole years.
I don’t get it.
Why does society put so much pressure on women to get married, like that’s the only purpose of our lives? Why can’t girls be encouraged to chase their dreams first—and then maybe get married?
Diary, I’ve had my own fair share of being pushed into a marriage I wasn’t ready for.
It all started after school. My parents were in such a hurry to get me married. To them, marriage was a woman’s “dignity.” That was what mattered. Meanwhile, all I wanted was to focus on my writing career. I had dreams—big ones. I wanted to start a firm where we could write novels, scripts, songs… a space for creativity. I wanted to be a big name in the Nigerian writing industry. But my parents had other plans.
They found a husband for me. He was Igbo—and very wealthy. A successful businessman. He came, paid my bride price, and just like that… I was married.
Maybe I could have stopped it. Maybe I should have. But I didn’t. I wanted to make my parents happy. I thought I could find a way to make it work.
We had a traditional marriage, and I moved into his house. I tried to convince myself it would be okay—that maybe, just maybe, he would
support my dreams. I even hoped he might help me open that writing firm I’d always talked about.
Oh, Diary, how wrong I was.
He never let me go out unless I was going to the market. He gave me money strictly for food, nothing for my personal upkeep. I was practically a full-time housewife, locked away from the world and my passion.
But the day that truly broke the camel’s back was the day I returned late from the market.
He beat me.
He beat me so badly… and I lost the pregnancy.
I left the next day. I couldn’t take it anymore.
Sometimes I still wonder how different my life would’ve been if I had stood my ground. If I had chosen my dreams over their expectations.
But I also know now that I’m choosing myself to move forward.
– Me, a Tired Nigerian Girl.