Having a rich friend might seem like a blessing, but sometimes the price is more than you bargained for. From subtle digs to outright humiliation, money can change the way friendship feels when one person always has more.
We asked a few Nigerians to tell us how they navigated friendship with people who made them feel poor.
We met in school, became coursemates and eventually roommates. She constantly turned my financial situation into a joke. Once, when I said turkey was too expensive, she loudly asked how I could afford anything. Then, another time, she mocked my ₦6k hair, joked that I couldn’t support myself financially, and even made digs at my finances when I asked her to buy water.
The breaking point came when she told a guy I liked that she was “literally feeding me.” She made her occasional help sound like she was responsible for my survival. That was when I realised the friendship had become humiliating and toxic. I’d always tried to be there for her, but she treated me like a rag. I chose my dignity and walked away.
We became friends despite coming from different financial backgrounds. I first noticed the gap when they spoke about travelling and said, “You’re missing out, but I can see why,” as though not having those experiences was something to be ashamed of.
Then they joked that they could “buy my entire life.” Even their constant offers to pay for things made me feel like the friend who always needed rescuing. On my birthday, they criticised my restaurant choice because they didn’t want to be embarrassed and pushed for somewhere more expensive.
Later, they joked they could never call me for financial help because they already knew I couldn’t afford it. I laughed everything off because I didn’t want to seem sensitive, but eventually, the friendship became painful. We’re no longer close.
I first noticed the difference when he got an iPhone 5s. Whenever I touched his phone or iPad, his expression made me feel like a beggar. Then I told him I wanted an iPhone someday, and he laughed, saying people like me could rarely afford one.
Hanging out with him felt like a chore. He always wanted to showcase everything he could buy that I couldn’t. The worst part was when his mother also started treating me like I was beneath them.
I never competed or clapped back because I knew my worth wasn’t determined by money. Eventually, I walked away. I was tired of constantly being made to feel like I was somehow less when I had plenty of love at home.
We were close for over 10 years, and I celebrated her wins like they were mine. But she took every opportunity to make my struggles feel shameful. Once, she questioned how I could afford the medicine she brought from Dubai. Then she told me ₦100k asoebi meant only people who could afford it belonged at a wedding. At another celebration, she publicly said, “We know you don’t have it.”
The breaking point came when my son was sent home over school fees. I expected empathy, but she told me private school wasn’t for everyone and I should consider government school, even though she hated government schools herself.
In that moment, I realised she was bent on making me feel inadequate and that her friendship came with humiliation. I choose peace over our decade-old friendship.
I met Dozie in 100L during registration. I wasn’t the type to pocket-watch, so I didn’t think much of the differences between us until he casually posted a trip to seven countries. Meanwhile, I didn’t even have a passport.
Once, during a study session, a girl I liked complimented my sweatshirt, and Dozie immediately told her it was thrifted and asked her to smell the “Yaba market scent.” Another time, he said, “My weekly pocket money is your father’s annual income.” He also constantly invited me to expensive places he knew I couldn’t afford.
Eventually, I couldn’t ignore the patterns. His jokes were always malicious. I eventually clapped back and told him he could have all the money in the world and still be 5’6, which I knew he hated about himself. We’re no longer friends.
I was a corper when a new neighbour moved in. She was warm and friendly, so we naturally became friends. Another neighbour joined us, and it didn’t take long before she turned my ₦77k allowance into a running joke.
She’d say things like, “Why are you inviting someone that earns ₦77k?” and laugh as though she’d said something hilarious. She also commented on what I could and couldn’t afford, especially in front of other people, as though my allowance was public information.
What embarrassed me most was how casually she said these things. Whenever I reacted, she hid behind, “I’m only joking.” Even the new neighbour found it weird. I eventually stopped laughing along and engaging with her. Friendship isn’t by force.
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