"I heard you write about love stuff for a living. So, do you, like… sit in cafés, watch couples, and judge them? Or do you just listen to break-up cries over gallons of ice cream?" That’s the kind of question or assumption I’m hit with so often it’s becoming part of my personality. For the record, no, I don’t spend my days people-watching at coffee shops or binging rom-coms like a sentimental fortune teller. Writing about relationships is a whole other level of rewarding, draining, and—yes—occasionally hilarious madness.

Let’s clear up the biggest misconceptions about my job. Whether you're a curious friend or simply here because, well, clickbait worked, sit tight. Here’s what people get totally wrong about what I do for a living.

1. Not Every Day is a Love-Fest
When people hear I write about dating and relationships, they assume my days involve flowers, heart emojis, and affirmations about finding “the one.” Spoiler alert: they don’t. My work requires untangling the intricate threads of how people connect, fight, ghost, stay, and sometimes fall out of love—topics that can feel a lot less like a Nicholas Sparks bestseller and more like therapy mixed with investigative journalism.

You know what a day in my life actually looks like? Research. And not the “How to Make Him Text Back in Three Days” kind. I’ve read academic journals titled things like “Attachment Theory and Adult Dependence” and scrolled through digital rabbit holes of sociological studies. Glamorous, I know. And let’s not forget the endless hours spent fine-tuning advice that feels relatable but doesn’t reduce human connection to cliché TikTok-worthy soundbites.

Love is messy. Helping people untangle it is often messier. But hey, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

2. No, I’m Not the All-Knowing Oracle of Love
“Wow, so you must know everything about relationships, right? You probably give amazing advice!” someone once told me at a wedding while I was sneaking extra puff-puff (fried dough balls, for my non-Nigerian squad). Nice compliment, but here’s the truth: relationship writers are not relationship perfectionists.

Real talk: I still argue with my partner about loading the dishwasher. I sometimes struggle to communicate like I know I should. Writing about relationships doesn’t make me the Beyoncé of emotional intelligence. It makes me an explorer—someone diving headfirst into the dynamics of love, learning as I go, and sharing what I uncover along the way.

So, if I give advice, it’s not because I’ve figured it all out. It’s because I’ve interviewed people, read about their experiences, wrestled with my own, and boiled it all down to something I hope helps someone. Think of me less as Cupid and more like your super-curious (and slightly nosy) friend with a journal and too much Wi-Fi.

3. Sometimes, People Overshare… A Lot
It’s wild what mentioning “relationships” in your job title can unlock. I remember being at a barbecue in Lagos when an acquaintance grabbed my arm and said, “I need your opinion—should I call my ex if she just posted about her cat dying? Or is that giving her the wrong idea?”

People. Oversharing. Everywhere. It’s flattering when someone trusts you enough to spill their emotional tea, but trust me, it can get intense. Once, during an Uber ride, my driver spent 40 minutes unpacking why his fiancée left him and asked me to analyze her text messages from six months ago. Spoiler alert: there was no romantic loophole in her “we’re just not right for each other.”

I get it. People want clarity. They want connection. And while I might sound like a sassy relationship guru, I will always hold space for those moments. It’s one of the best parts of this work, honestly—it reminds me why I started.

4. It’s Not Just About Romantic Love
When my family (lovingly) teases me about my work, they joke that I’ve basically studied “Advanced Flirting Techniques 101.” But relationships are so much deeper than candlelit dinners and first-date jitters. Love is foundational—it’s friendship, family, community, partnership, and self.

Writing about relationships has transformed the way I connect with people. It’s made me reflect on the intricate dance of culture and connection. Growing up in Nigeria, relationships were community affairs. My aunts and uncles chimed in when someone’s engagement seemed rocky, and elders reminded us that marriage was an investment in resilience, not bliss. Later, living in London, I saw a different style of love—focused on independence but often yearning for intimacy. These lessons have shaped how I write, offering insights for those navigating African traditions, global influences, or the bridge between the two.

Love isn’t a monolith, and neither is my job. Sometimes, I write about rekindling friendships. Other days, I explore why the way we’re raised shapes the kind of partners we become. On the best days, I show people how to fall in love with themselves before anyone else.

5. It’s Not All Fun and Games
Sure, writing about relationships seems like a dream gig—and for me, often it is. Where it gets tricky is the emotional weight. I’ve written about heartbreaks too fresh to ignore. I’ve interviewed partners rebuilding trust after infidelity. And, on some days, I’ve wrestled with the painful histories people carry into love, especially from my work with NGOs and the stories of resilience I’ve encountered.

It’s a delicate thing—balancing playful but meaningful content with the serious realities of connection. But there’s a deep joy in peeling back the layers, finding truth in the chaotic beauty of relationships, and reshaping the dialogue around them.

Takeaways from the Love Trenches

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the art of relationships requires constant evolution. No cheat codes, hacks, or perfect formulas. Just open hearts and willing minds. Here are three truths my job has engrained in me (take notes, they might just save you a therapy session):

  • Love Starts With You. Self-discovery sets the tone for how you connect with others. You can’t pour from an empty cup, as Nigerians would say.
  • Be Ready to Listen. Half of relationships boil down to communication, and yet, so many don’t know how to listen. Practice pausing and really hearing the other person.
  • No Two Loves Look Alike. Comparison is a thief. Your journey is your own, for better or worse—build relationships that feel authentic to you, not Instagram.

So, yes, people get a lot wrong about my job. Writing about relationships isn’t just mushy rom-com fantasies or turning meh break-ups into funny anecdotes. It’s holding space for people’s vulnerabilities, illuminating the rich mosaic of love, and being brave enough to ask questions the world shies away from. It’s heavy, hilarious, and wholly rewarding work. And frankly, that makes it worth all the odd assumptions.

Plus, for the record—I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes sneak off to a café, order a caramel latte, and people-watch for fun anyway. Hey, research is research.