In this edition of The Single Girl Diaries, 19-year-old Rita takes us through an unsettling experience that began as an attempt to make a professional connection and quickly turned into something far more uncomfortable. During her internship, Rita found herself being pursued by a 50-something-year-old senior manager at her office. What started with a casual lunch soon escalated into unwanted advances, persistent messages and repeated attempts to contact her, even after she made it clear she wanted him to stop. Here, she tells us how a seemingly innocent “for the plot” experience became a lesson in boundaries, power dynamics and protecting her peace in the workplace.
My Love Life
Dear diary,
I’m straight as fuck, nineteen, and a final-year university student trying to figure out the corporate world in Lagos. When I’m not working, I’m usually buried in a book, arguing about art, obsessing over history, or just talking to people. I love people. I love stories. And, apparently, I love experiences a little too much.
Until recently, my love life had been pretty uneventful. I’ve had one actual boyfriend in my entire life, mostly because I’m very selective about who I let into my space. That relationship lasted about three months before I ended it. He was already talking marriage, proposals and settling down, and that is very much not my ministry.
Then there was a talking stage in July that ended almost as quickly as it started. The minute I realised the guy was trying to play me, I was like, Nah, hell nah. I cleared him.
Right now, I’m in a pretty chill, active talking stage with someone else. But I’ve always had this spontaneous side where I’ll do something simply because it might make a good story someday. You know, for the plot. Something I can tell my nieces and nephews years from now and laugh about. Unfortunately, one of those decisions gave me the kind of story nobody actually wants to have.
How I Met Mr. Femi
It started during my internship.
The company building has several floors, but the sixth floor was easily the best place to escape to. There were board games, checkers and a lounge where you could just sit and breathe for a minute. One afternoon, my fellow interns and I went upstairs to unwind.
While we were playing, one of the senior managers came out. His name was Mr. Femi. He was a 50-something-year-old manager on the Energy Floor. And, honestly, my first thought was networking. I remember thinking, Oh, nice. When I finish school and eventually come back for my full-time IT, having a senior connection on the Energy Floor could actually be useful. So, naturally, I decided to be friendly. We chatted casually, and somewhere in the conversation I mentioned that one of my friends, another intern, was finishing her rotation and travelling back home soon.
I honestly don’t know why I volunteered that information. I was just talking. Mr. Femi told us she should come and see him on Wednesday when he got back. He even promised to bring us some Kilishi. When my friend and I left his office, we were laughing. “Wow. Look at us securing free goodies.” That was literally the extent of my thinking.
Mr. Femi Takes Me and My Friends Out
Wednesday came, and true to his word, Mr. Femi brought the kilishi. My friend, being the bold one between the two of us, decided to ask him for another favour.
On the Energy Floor, it’s a bit of a tradition for managers to pool money together as a send-off gift for departing interns. Over on my floor, Sales Services, we don’t enjoy those kinds of privileges. So my friend asked if he would sponsor a send-off lunch for her. He agreed. He asked where she wanted to go, and she suggested a nice restaurant in Lagos. Friday was set. I went with my departing friend and another intern.
Mr. Femi insisted that my friend sit in the front seat because the lunch was technically for her. In everyone’s mind, it’s her he is into. At the restaurant, everything was pretty normal. I was mostly there for the food, the vibes and, obviously, the pictures. After we got back to the office, my friend gave me his number so that we could all send him thank-you messages. I typed out a quick, professional text of appreciation, completely unaware that I had just opened a Pandora’s box.
I and Mr. Femi Go On A Solo Date
As soon as I text thank you to Mr. Femi, his reply shifted the energy instantly. “Why were you avoiding me today?” he asked. I was confused. “Avoiding you? Oh, not at all.” Then he started heavily complimenting me. “You have very pretty eyes. We should meet sometime… you can come to my car.”
At first, I didn’t think too much of it. Again, my for the plot, for the experience brain was working overtime. He suggested lunch. Just the two of us. He told me to pick the place, so I picked Slow because, well, if I’m going somewhere, I might as well enjoy the ambience. But the moment we sat down at Slow, the atmosphere changed. Mr. Femi started hitting on me aggressively. He was being extra touchy, invading my space, and clearly trying to lean in for a kiss. I started panicking.
To keep his hands to himself, I desperately kept deflecting the vibe toward politics. I brought up Nigeria’s political climate, babbling on about the APC and anything else I could think of, knowing that if I got him started on a political rant, he might talk forever. But that didn’t stop him. To make matters worse, the food was taking forever to arrive. I sat there praying for the waiters to hurry up while keeping him occupied with my political rant.
I Ask Mr. Femi for One Thing, and He Asks Me for Another
Eventually, we finished lunch and got back into his car. On our way back to the office, I mentioned that I needed to stop at Roving Heights at Landmark to pick up some books. He agreed to drive me.
Unfortunately, Landmark was packed because there was a major event happening that day. The traffic was insane. At some point I just said, “You know what? Let me order the books online. I’ll send you the bill.” He agreed. After my request, throughout the drive, Mr. Femi’s hand was on my thigh, sliding up my leg. I remember just sitting there breathing heavily because I was anxious. And then I started thinking about how I had even ended up in this situation.
I had agreed to the lunch. I had allowed him to pay for things. I had gone along with the whole situation because, at the time, I thought I could manage it. Now I was sitting in his car thinking, What the hell am I doing?
Then came the proposition that made my stomach drop. “Let’s go to the Shoprite parking lot to make out,” Mr. Femi suggested. I didn’t want to.But I was already overwhelmed by the situation, the age difference, the workplace dynamics and the fact that this was a senior manager at my place of work. And, in a moment I deeply regretted, I went along with it. We drove to the parking lot, and we made out.
The second we got back to the office, a wave of disgust washed over me. I sat at my desk, looking at my phone, thinking, “What did I just do? I cannot be making out with a 50-plus-year-old married man.” Don’t judge me. I just couldn’t understand how I’d let myself get there.
Mr. Femi Won’t Stop Calling and Texting
Determined to put an immediate end to the situation, I sent a final, polite text thanking him for the lunch. After that, I decided to air him completely.
That was when the real nightmare began.
Mr. Femi started blowing up my phone relentlessly. When I didn’t reply, the messages and calls poured in from his local Nigerian number, an unknown number, and even a UK number. It was a non-stop barrage of texts and missed calls. At one point, he even started offering to bring gifts for me in the office. I was in an absolute panic. I was terrified that this powerful manager would find a way to tarnish my reputation or ruin my internship before my program ended.
When he realized I was completely ignoring him, his behavior crossed into seriously creepy territory. He began targeting my friends (the ones who had joined us for the very first lunch). He harassed them with texts and calls, asking, “Why is Rita ignoring me? Tell her to call me back.” My friends were deeply uncomfortable. They messaged me, saying, “Babe, please, what is this? This is getting really scary.”
Moving On and Protecting My Career
Eventually, my friends stepped in. They helped calm me down and helped me draft a firm final message telling him to stop contacting me. After that, we blocked his numbers. Thankfully, the calls eventually reduced, although every now and then he still manages to get a message through asking how I am or begging me to call him.
At work, I’m still very careful. I avoid the Energy Floor completely. I haven’t physically seen him since that day, and honestly, I would prefer to keep it that way. If I ever run into him, my plan is simple: be polite, nod, and keep walking.I’m not interested in being rude or giving him any reason to say I was disrespectful. I just want my distance. My internship ends soon, and right now, my biggest priority is protecting my career, my peace and my future.
I definitely learned something from this experience. Sometimes “for the plot” is a terrible life strategy. Because it’s one thing to do something spontaneous for the experience. It’s another thing entirely when you’re the one who has to live with the consequences.So, if I have one rule now, it’s this: If you can’t handle the consequences, don’t start it for the plot.
