By Teme Elvis Weyinkuro
Spend enough time online, and you could be forgiven for thinking that the biggest mistake you can make in any relationship is caring more than the other person.
Don’t text twice. Don’t call first too often. Don’t be too available. Don’t let them know how much you like them. Match their energy. Keep your options open. And whatever happens, never be the person doing too much.
Somewhere in all of this is the idea of being “the prize”: the person who is pursued rather than pursuing, who has more options, more leverage and apparently less to lose.
There is nothing wrong with knowing your worth. Having standards is healthy. So are boundaries. Nobody should remain in a friendship or relationship where they are consistently disrespected, neglected or taken for granted.
But knowing your worth and needing to prove that you are worth more are two very different things.
And increasingly, it feels as though we are confusing the two.
Look at the way we talk about dating. Who called first? Who initiated the date? Who is more invested? Who apologised? Who has more options? Even perfectly ordinary expressions of affection can be analysed as evidence that one person has somehow surrendered their advantage.
The person who says “I miss you” first has lost. The lover boy is doing too much. The woman who openly adores her partner needs to remember she is the prize. Reply too quickly, and you are too available. Take too long, and suddenly you are playing games.
It is exhausting.
At some point, you have to wonder: if both people are trying desperately not to care more, who exactly is having the relationship?
The mentality has found its way into friendship too. We talk about our circles in increasingly transactional terms. What does this person bring to the table? Who has access? Who makes the introductions? Who is always calling? Who shows up more?
Reciprocity matters, of course. Nobody wants to carry an entire friendship alone. But reciprocity and keeping score are not the same thing.
Real relationships are rarely perfectly balanced at every moment. Sometimes your friend needs you more. You make the calls. You drive across town. You lend the money. You make the introduction or sit with her through the terrible week. At another point, life turns, and you are the one who needs somebody to show up.
That isn’t necessarily imbalance. Sometimes that’s simply friendship.
The problem with constantly thinking about who is “the prize” is that even generosity can begin to feel like losing. Calling first becomes desperation. Apologising first looks like weakness. Being available becomes having no life. Showing enthusiasm becomes doing too much.
We have become very good at protecting ourselves from appearing too invested.
Unfortunately, genuine connection requires some investment.
There is a strange contradiction in wanting to be loved deeply while being terrified of looking like we love ourselves deeply. We want people who communicate, but hesitate to send the message. We want vulnerability, but carefully ration our own. We complain about emotionally unavailable people while sometimes treating emotional availability as something slightly embarrassing.
Lagos dating conversations make this particularly funny. Everybody seems exhausted by the dating pool; nobody can find anybody serious; everyone wants genuine connection — and yet heaven forbid you reply too quickly.
Social media hasn’t created all of this, but it has certainly given us a language for it. “Match their energy.” “Never let a man tell you twice he doesn’t want you.” “If they wanted to, they would.” Some of these phrases contain useful advice. The problem begins when complicated human relationships are reduced to rules that leave no room for context, bad days, misunderstandings, different personalities or the simple fact that people don’t always love in exactly the same way.
Of course, underneath much of this behaviour is a legitimate fear. Nobody wants to be taken for granted. Nobody wants to discover that they have been giving endlessly to someone who would barely inconvenience themselves in return. And nobody particularly enjoys the embarrassment of realising they cared much more than the other person did.
But perhaps the answer isn’t caring less. Perhaps it is becoming better at deciding who deserves your care.
There is a difference between having boundaries and building walls. Self-respect doesn’t require emotional detachment, and protecting yourself doesn’t mean every relationship has to become a negotiation.
Sometimes you can call first. Sometimes you can apologise first. Sometimes you can be excited about somebody and allow them to know it. Sometimes you can do something generous without immediately checking whether they have done the equivalent for you.
And sometimes you will give more. The important thing is recognising when “sometimes” has quietly become “always.”
Knowing your worth should help you recognise relationships where you are valued. It shouldn’t require you to constantly demonstrate that you are the more valuable person in them.
Because once two people are preoccupied with maintaining the upper hand, intimacy becomes almost impossible. Someone is always calculating, withholding, matching energy or waiting for the other person to move first. You may successfully avoid looking foolish, but you may also avoid experiencing the very connection you say you want.
Maybe we need to retire the idea that every relationship requires a prize at all.
The problem with constantly trying to be the prize is that prizes are meant to be won.Relationships are meant to be experienced.
