By Babalola Johnson
Ojuri has lived through more pain than most people could imagine. Sometimes, she wonders if she was specially created to suffer. Her childhood was filled with nothing but strife—her earliest memories are of her parents constantly arguing and fighting. Joy and peace were strangers in her home.
School wasn’t an escape either. Ojuri struggled academically and emotionally. She was bullied by her peers and dismissed by her teachers. One of them used to say to her face, “You have no future.” They called her a dullard. But through sheer will, Ojuri fought her way forward and became a primary school teacher. Today, she’s deeply committed to her students. “No pupil of mine will ever feel the way I felt,” she often says.
Now in her early 30s, Ojuri longs for a male companion—not just for romance, but someone who would truly listen to her. Someone to whom she could speak freely and be herself without judgment or interruption. Over the years, though, her attempts to open up have been disappointing. Many people she confided in would instantly shift into problem-solving mode, throwing out spiritual diagnoses or unsolicited advice without taking time to truly hear her.
She jokingly refers to them as “microwave listeners and instant solution givers.” They’re the type who listen just long enough to prepare their reply. AK, a long-time acquaintance, would often interrupt her with, “You need deliverance. I know a pastor who can help you forget all your past issues.” Others pushed her towards traditional healers or therapists.
One day, she decided to try therapy. That’s when she met ZD—a calm, reassuring psychotherapist. ZD didn’t rush her. She listened. She helped Ojuri reflect, breathe, and embrace small, healing habits. “You may feel like you’ve never had real friendship,” ZD told her, “but I assure you—those connections will come. Just remain open. But also, guard your emotional space.”
That advice would prove important.
Not long after, Ojuri met Gboromiyewo, a charming, articulate professional about three years older than her. Their bond was instant. Finally, someone who seemed to genuinely care. Ojuri felt safe. She began to open up, telling him the stories she hadn’t told anyone in years. And at first, Gboromiyewo seemed like the perfect listener. He was attentive, nodded at the right moments, and never interrupted.
But with time, Ojuri began to notice something subtle but unsettling.
Whenever she shared something personal—like how painful her school days were or how she still carried the weight of being misunderstood—Gboromiyewo would respond not by addressing her feelings, but by launching into his own story. “Oh, that happened to you too? Let me tell you what I went through. It was worse…” he’d begin.
At first, she thought maybe he was just trying to relate. But it kept happening. Every time she opened up about her struggles, he countered with a “bigger” story. If she talked about how hard it was for her to afford a new phone, he would talk about how he once lost two phones in a week. If she mentioned being nervous at work, he would share how he once managed an entire crisis alone. Whether it was about school, money, cars, books, or even emotions—he always found a way to one-up her.
This constant need to outshine her—emotionally or materially—was draining.
She began to reflect on what ZD had told her—about protecting her space and identifying what healthy listening looks like. She realized Gboromiyewo wasn’t just a poor listener. He was a “one-upper”—a person who competes for attention and sympathy, even in the middle of someone else’s vulnerability.
It became clear that people like Gboromiyewo can be identified by their tendency to respond to your pain or joy with something that overshadows it, leaving you feeling emotionally sidelined; such interactions gradually erode your self-esteem and can make you doubt the worth of your own experiences; and the best way to deal with such friends is to limit your vulnerability, guard your peace, and choose to invest your emotions where they are valued and reciprocated.
Ojuri is still healing. Still hoping. But now she’s wiser about what real companionship looks like—because when you’ve carried your pain alone for so long, the last thing you need is a companion who makes you feel lonelier in conversation.
NB: Johnson Babalola, a Canada based lawyer, leadership consultant and corporate emcee, is a public affairs analyst. He is the Founder of JB Law & Life Compass (JBLLC), a mentorship platform for young lawyers, law students and young professionals (@jblifecompass). Follow him for discussions on real life issues that affect us all:* https://substack.com/@johnsonbabalola https://medium.com/@jblawyer2021 https jbdlaw Website: www.johnsonbabalola://www.facebook.com/jbandthings
IG: @jbdlaw/@jbandthings
*You can obtain a copy of his book, REJECTED on Amazon, FriesenPress, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, Apple Books, Nook Store etc.*
