Let’s talk about a quiet epidemic in the Nigerian dating scene. And no, it’s not the usual cheating, ghosting, or “what are we?” confusion. This one’s deeper — and a little more heartbreaking.
It’s about how the average Nigerian woman — born and raised here, educated here, building her life here — is slowly becoming invisible to the men who grew up right beside her.
Let’s be clear: average doesn’t mean basic. These women are smart. They’ve fought for degrees in broken systems, they’re running side hustles, managing 9–5s, 6–10s, and still finding time to look like soft life. The only thing “missing”? A passport stamp. An accent. Maybe a blue passport.
Because increasingly, Nigerian men are no longer checking for women who live here — they want the ones “over there.”
Men who also suffered NEPA trauma and flooded roads are suddenly only attracted to women who now post snow on their IG stories and sprinkle “innit” in casual conversation.
It’s wild.
Some say it’s about aspiration. A shot at a better life. Others say “women abroad think differently.” (Whatever that means.) But most times, it just looks like a desire to escape, and whoever helps you escape becomes your dream girl.
Even if she’s folding clothes at Primark and you’ve got a tech job in Lekki.
Still think it’s just vibes? Let’s talk about Ada.
Ada got pregnant for someone she was seeing — a man she genuinely liked. They were both grinding, both surviving in this soul-wrenching Nigerian economy. When she found out she was pregnant, they agreed that now wasn’t the right time. She went through the painful process of an abortion, which was physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining.
Then, not long after, during one of their “what’s next?” conversations, he looked her in the eye and asked:
“So, do you have plans to travel out soon?”
That question broke her.
Not because it was rude. But because it made one thing painfully clear — despite everything they’d shared, despite everything she’d been through with him, she still wasn’t enough. Not unless she had a visa or a future outside Nigeria.
It wasn’t about her character. Or her resilience. Or her intelligence. It was about where she lived — and what she could offer him as an escape plan.
And this is happening every day.
We’ve created a silent hierarchy in dating where women abroad, regardless of substance, are seen as “premium,” while women here, no matter how exceptional, are seen as transitional. Something to pass the time with until something better comes along. Better, of course, being defined by geography and potential migration.
What’s worse? Most of the men doing this haven’t even travelled themselves. They’re projecting their dreams onto women who just happen to be in a different time zone.
But when they finally get there? Many of them realise they’re just “that Nigerian guy” in a world that doesn’t care about their Lagos steeze or LinkedIn profile. Suddenly, the women they overlooked back home start to look like everything they needed.
So maybe it’s time to ask ourselves: what do we really value in partners? Is it passports over presence? Is it exposure over empathy? Are we so obsessed with running away that we can’t recognise love unless it comes with a visa?
Because here’s the truth: the Nigerian woman who stayed, who survived, who’s still building — she’s not behind. She’s not undesirable. And she’s definitely not invisible.
Leave a Reply