I Got Paid ₦250K to Get Played

It started like any other Saturday night: small chops in hand, Netflix open, data just enough for a few episodes. Then I got that text.

“You home?”

It was Teni. Beautiful, funny, slightly chaotic. We’d been talking for a few weeks, nothing serious yet—but enough chemistry to charge PHCN.

Me: “Yeah, just chilling. You good?”

Her: “Kinda bored. Wanna come over?”

I didn’t even finish chewing the puff-puff before I was in the shower. Twenty minutes later, I was on the road to her estate. She sent the gate pass, dropped her address, even added, “Come hungry.”

Hungry? I was starving—for food and more.

I arrived, knocked once. She opened the door looking dangerous—oversized shirt, no makeup, hair in a messy bun. Everything screamed “wife material with soft lighting.”

She smiled. “You made it.”

I stepped in. Her apartment was clean, scented candles, lo-fi music in the background. Vibe was 10/10.

Then she said, “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us some drinks.”

She walked to the kitchen, I sat. As I looked around, I noticed something weird—two glasses already on the table, half-filled. Then I saw it: men’s sneakers by the door. Size 45. That ain’t hers.

Before I could react, the front door opened.

Another guy walked in.

Both of us froze.

He looked at me. I looked at him. Teni peeked out of the kitchen like it was a sitcom.

Then she casually said, “Oh good, you’re both here.”

Excuse me? BOTH?

She walked back in like it was the most normal thing. “I figured it’s time you met. You’re both very important to me.”

Guy: “Sorry, who is this?”

Me: “Bros, I wan ask you the same thing.”

She clapped once. “Relax. I’ll explain.”

We sat down like victims at a fake audition. She started talking.

She had been seeing both of us. Me and this guy—his name was Gozie. Apparently, we were part of a social experiment she was conducting for her master’s thesis in Psychology.

Title: “Male Reactions to Romantic Uncertainty and Shared Intimacy in Lagos.”

I kid you not.

She documented all our convos, voice notes, and even tracked our reactions using some AI tool. Everything from the emojis we used to how fast we replied.

Me: “You’ve been studying us?!”

Gozie: “This girl belongs to UNILAG.”

“There’s a cash prize. ₦500K to whoever walks away calmly without cursing or shouting.”

I laughed. “Wait, what?”

She pointed to a camera behind a curtain. “Recording ends in ten minutes. Choose peace—there’s money involved.”

I looked at Gozie. He looked at me. Both of us started smiling like job applicants.

We sat up, crossed our legs, and began sipping juice like groomsmen.

Ten minutes later, she said, “You both passed. I’ll wire ₦250K each.”

As I got up to leave, still stunned, she whispered, “Also, side note… you were my favorite subject.”

I didn’t even know how to process that.

So yes—last weekend, I went to see a girl and came back ₦250K richer… and part of someone’s master’s dissertation.

Life in Lagos is not normal.