Dating a food business owner may seem like a dream come true: unlimited jollof, perfectly grilled suya, and tasting menus at your disposal. But is it all it’s cracked up to be? We asked seven Nigerians what it’s really like to date someone who lives and breathes the food business.
Banji*
I thought I’d hit the jackpot when I started dating my wife. Cooking was her love language. Every week, she’d surprise me with a new dish, and when we got married, I imagined I’d continue living the good life.
But when she launched her food business two years ago, everything changed. Now, she spends her energy cooking for her clients and is no longer motivated to cook for the house. Instead, she prefers ordering meals from other food vendors.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m proud of her success, but it stings when I realise that the meals I used to think were for me now go to strangers. I’ve learned to adjust by cooking for myself or ordering food, but sometimes, I miss the days when her kitchen experiments were just for us.
Aisha*
My boyfriend runs a catering business that specialises in intercontinental meals. When we first started dating, I loved tagging along to food tastings and menu planning. But these days, our relationship feels like an extension of his work.
Whenever we’re together, he’s brainstorming new ideas or comparing recipes. Eating out used to be romantic, but now it feels like a job interview for his palate. If I suggest a restaurant, he’ll critique every bite, and God forbid we go to a party, and the food isn’t up to standard—it’ll become the topic of discussion for the rest of the evening. He’s amazing, but I miss when meals were just meals and not “research opportunities.”
Bunmi*
I knew what I was signing up for when I married a grills and finger food vendor, but I didn’t expect the smell to take over our lives. Every corner of our house smells like suya, barbecue sauce, or small chops. My wardrobe? Smoky. The couch? Smoky. Even my hair picks up the smell when I sit too close to him while he’s marinating chicken wings. To make things worse, he’s always busy with vendor meetings or weekend events. Sometimes, I joke that I’m married to his grill because I see it more than I see him. It’s tough, but I try to remind myself that his hard work is paying off. At least the grilled turkey is always top-tier.
Tolu*
My boyfriend owns a small bakery; dating him means I’ve eaten more pastries than I ever thought possible. At first, it was fun. He’d bake something new and ask me to try it out. But now, it feels like a full-time job. Every week, there’s a new recipe he wants me to taste, critique, and rate. “Does it need more sugar?” “Is the crust too flaky?” “What do you think of this frosting?” It’s like I’m a permanent judge on a baking competition. I love his passion, but sometimes, I just want to eat a slice of bread without discussing its texture and crumb structure.
Esther*
My boyfriend owns a buka, and let me tell you, it’s not for the faint-hearted. His phone rings at all hours of the day with orders, complaints, and supplier drama. He thrives on the chaos, but it drives me mad.
Sometimes, he forgets dates because he’s stuck at the buka handling customer rush hours. And when he does come home, his clothes reek of stew and sweat. Once, I asked him to take a day off to spend time together, but he said, “Who will serve the customers?” It’s hard dating someone married to their business, but I try to focus on the positives. At least I’ll never go hungry.
Daniel*
My girlfriend runs a food delivery service. When we started dating, I loved how driven she was. But as her business grew, so did her obsession with it.
She’s always on her phone—replying to customers, posting on social media, or checking reviews. Even when we’re on dates, she’s taking calls from suppliers or planning her next content idea. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she always shuts me down. I admire her hustle, but sometimes, I feel like an afterthought in her life. I just want moments where it’s just the two of us, without the business looming over us.
Chioma*
My boyfriend owns a small restaurant, and while I’m proud of him, his perfectionism is exhausting. Every time I cook something, he critiques it like it’s on the menu at his restaurant.
“Why didn’t you add bay leaves?” “This jollof is too soft.” “Did you measure the salt?” At first, I thought he was joking, but he’s dead serious. It’s like I can’t make a pot of stew without a performance review.
I know he means well—he’s passionate about good food—but it’s draining. Sometimes, I just want to cook and enjoy a meal without feeling like I’m on MasterChef.
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