Ever since I started dating, the only money I have ever received from a man is 200 Ghana cedis. Once. That single amount has followed me like a quiet question mark through my entire dating life. Sometimes I ask myself whether I should laugh about it or sit down and really think, because at this point, I genuinely need to understand what I am doing right—or very wrong. Men I date simply do not give me money.

They will take me to shops and buy things we need together. Groceries. Fuel. Items for the house we are both using in that moment. But nothing that is specifically for me. No “this is for you.” No extra. No thought beyond the shared space. And it leaves me confused, because I watch these same men spend freely on other women without blinking.

I am 31 years old. I have sacrificed a lot. I have endured, tolerated, bent, and shrunk myself because I wanted to prove that I am a good woman. I wanted to be chosen for my heart, my character, my loyalty. I am a one-man woman—loyal to a fault. When I love, I love deeply. I am resourceful, affectionate, and very giving. I can cook. I am educated. I dress well. I carry myself with confidence. People are often shocked when I say I am single because, by all visible standards, I don’t look like a woman who wouldn’t have a man.

In relationships, I am respectful and submissive. If my man says “jump,” I ask “how high.” If we go out and I have money, I often end up paying without complaint. I don’t like tension. I don’t like asking. I don’t like to feel like a burden.

Here is where it becomes confusing. I meet wealthy men, men with obvious means, who spend generously on everyone else except me. Then I meet younger men, seven years younger sometimes, who are very generous and eager to buy me things, but I feel uncomfortable dating them. I want a man who is at least my age or older, even if just by a year. I want to feel led, not like I am dating potential.

Then there are married men who want me to be a side chick on credit. They want my time, my body, my loyalty, my discretion—without offering any form of financial support. Just vibes and promises.

Men my age will come to my house for the weekend, eat my food, empty my fridge, enjoy my space, and still won’t give me money. Not even for emergency contraception if it’s needed. If they send money at all, it is always the exact amount. Never extra. Never rounded up. Never thoughtful.

I asked my friends for advice, and some of them said, “It’s how you carry yourself.” That statement has haunted me. What does that even mean?

I work in marketing. I earn commissions when contracts are signed, so by God’s grace, I can afford my own place and I own a small car. Is this what they mean? That I look too independent? That I don’t look like I need help?

I once dated a man who broke up with me because I didn’t ask him for money when my cooking gas finished. At that time, I didn’t even have a car. I was struggling with Uber, but I still handled everything myself. I genuinely thought men liked women who could stand on their own and didn’t disturb them with small financial requests.

A friend later advised me to ask directly, so I tried. The man laughed at me. Laughed. And that was the end of the relationship. Yet I would later see him spend freely on other women without hesitation.

Now I am dating someone who lives abroad. I mentioned casually that I needed a new phone. Till today, he hasn’t sent anything. He hasn’t even followed up to ask whether I fixed it.

So now I am asking myself hard questions.

Is something wrong with me?
Am I missing something?
Or is this just how it is?

What Will Make You Leave Me After Forty Years Of Marriage?

I am tired of giving myself fully and still feeling unsupported. I am considering ending this relationship and staying on my own for a while, because loneliness feels lighter than being with someone who doesn’t show care in tangible ways.

But the truth is, I love love. I want my person. I want to know what it feels like to be taken care of without begging or explaining. I want to rest. I want to feel chosen. So I ask again—what is really happening here? And what, if anything, do I need to change?

—Mercy

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******