“He treated debts as a lifestyle. I had to run for my life.”
On today’s episode of Why The Ship Sank, we spoke to Amaka (27, F), who shares how her relationship ended after she discovered that her man saw accumulating debts as perfectly normal parts of adult life.
Q: How did you meet him?
We met at a church conference in late 2022. He was smart, well-dressed and incredibly articulate. The kind of man who always had something insightful to say.
He worked in tech, drove a decent car, lived alone and seemed financially comfortable.
I thought I had finally met ‘a responsible adult’.
Q: What was the relationship like at the beginning?
Very good.
He was attentive and generous. He planned dates, bought gifts and never acted stingy. He never saw gifting as a chore.
My family loved him because he seemed responsible (they knew about him 2 months into the relationship). My dad even told me, “This one looks like he has direction.”
If only we knew…
Q: So when did you notice something wasn’t adding up?
About six months into the relationship.
One evening, we went out for dinner. When the bill came, his card declined. He laughed and said his bank app had been acting up all day.
No problem. These things happen. So I paid.
Then it happened again two weeks later.
(yes, we went on dates quite well. Funnily enough, it was almost always his idea).
Q: How did you handle the next one?
I paid…again. He refunded the first though…later that week. So I was comfortable paying again, knowing he would refund me.
Q: Did he?
Yes. But not immediately.
The second refund came almost three weeks later, and only after I reminded him twice. He apologised and said one of his clients was delaying payment.
Again, it sounded reasonable. At that point, I still had absolutely no reason to suspect anything. Everybody experiences cash flow issues once in a while.
Q: So when did things start looking suspicious?
The phone calls.
His phone rang constantly. Early in the morning, late at night, during church services, during our dates…to mention but a few.
And there were certain calls he simply refused to answer. He would stare at the screen, sigh dramatically and allow it to ring out. At first, I thought maybe they were annoying relatives or work people. I never imagined they were people demanding their money.
Q: Did you ask him about it?
I did, and that was on our last date. I said “your phone rings a little too much these days. Care to tell me about it?”
He laughed and said, “Ah, just people I owe. They’ll be fine.”
The way he said it shocked me.
There was no shame. No embarrassment. No concern whatsoever, just confidence…or rather non-chalance.
I honestly assumed it was one or two people. I was very wrong.
Q: What do you mean?
One Saturday, we went to a supermarket together. At the checkout, he asked if I could quickly cover the bill and he’d send the money later.
No problem.
On our way home, he stopped to meet a friend and borrowed ₦30,000.
That same evening, another friend came to his house asking for money he had been owed for months.
That’s when it clicked.
Q: Did you confront him?
Of course.
I asked him if he was having financial problems. He looked genuinely confused and said, “No. Why would you think that?”
I reminded him about the borrowing, the calls and the unpaid debts. Then he said something that honestly changed how I saw him.
He told me debt is a normal part of adulthood and that only people who think small avoid owing money.
According to him, rich people owe billions. Apparently, he saw himself as one of them.
Q: What was going through your mind?
Confusion.
Because rich people also have plans to repay their debts.
This man was borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, then borrowing from James to pay Peter again.
It wasn’t even strategy, it was survival. He was borrowing to survive.
And he seemed completely comfortable with it.
Q: Did you eventually find out how much he owed?
Unfortunately, yes.
One night, I kept asking questions until he finally opened up.
Between cooperative loans, digital lending apps, office colleagues, friends and family members, he owed well over ₦6 million.
I thought he was exaggerating. He wasn’t. My jaw literally dropped.
Q: How did someone owing that much still maintain his lifestyle?
That’s the scary part.
Everything was financed by debt. The car had outstanding payments. The gadgets were bought on credit. Even some of the gifts he’d bought for me came from borrowed money.
I suddenly realised that the comfortable life I admired wasn’t entirely real, it was funded by people waiting to be paid back.
Q: Did he see any problem with this?
None. Absolutely none.
He genuinely believed I was overreacting. He would say things like, “Money comes and goes,” or “If people trust you enough to lend you money, that’s a blessing.”
I have never met somebody so comfortable owing people.
Q: Did he ever borrow money from you directly?
Eventually. It started small. ₦10,000. ₦20,000. Sometimes he paid me back, other times he needed more time.
I began noticing a pattern.
Every solution involved borrowing more money. Never spending less. Never restructuring. Never accountability…just more debt.
Q: What finally ended the relationship?
I think I had already started checking out but the last straw was when we had a heated conversation about marriage and instead of talking about savings or future plans, he casually mentioned that combining our finances would help him manage his obligations better.
Obligations.
That’s what he called millions of naira in debt. At that moment, I realised I wasn’t being invited into a marriage, I was being recruited into a repayment plan.
I had to run for my life.
Q: Did he come begging or something?
That’s the thing with him. He was actually a really proud person, so his ego wouldn’t let him do that. I’m glad I ran for my life sha. For someone that treated debts as a lifestyle, omooo, I was left with no other choice than to leave the relationship abeg.
