As a single woman ready to settle down, I found myself one boring afternoon browsing for dating apps on Play Store. Most required payment to unlock features, and I wasn’t really in the mood to spend. Then I stumbled on a free site called NaijaPlanet—no payments, no hassle. I signed up, uploaded my photo, and almost immediately started getting tons of messages.
A lot of the messages were from unserious men—some rude, some overly sexual—but then one stood out. He claimed to be based in the U.S., looking for a wife, and said a friend of his had found true love on the site. He seemed genuine. Our chats flowed easily, so I gave him my WhatsApp number.
Not long after, he messaged me asking if I could send ₦1,000 to his mother, who was stranded. He said he couldn’t make any transactions at the moment. It felt off—how could a supposedly wealthy man’s mom not have ₦1,000? Still, it was a small amount, so I sent it. That’s when he said it was a test—he wanted to see if I was different from other women. He was so impressed that he promised to reward me with gifts.
He asked what I needed for my fashion business. I told him—a sewing machine and some accessories. He said he’d buy them for me and send them over to Nigeria. I was excited. He even sent pictures of the sewing machine and some shoes, claiming he also hid money inside the package for me. It felt too good to be true, but I wanted to believe it.
He said the package would arrive in Abuja via FedEx, but could be redirected to Lagos. Then came the twist: he “accidentally” placed his wallet—containing his work permit—inside the package. He was now “stranded” and begged me to make sure I received the delivery.
By now, I started feeling uneasy. I turned to ChatGPT (yes, I’m one of those people who consult AI!) and it confirmed my suspicions. I asked him for the tracking number to verify the shipment—he dodged the question.
Later that night, around 1 a.m., he messaged me again. Minutes later, I got a WhatsApp message from an unknown number claiming I had a package at Nnamdi Azikiwe Airport and needed to call a certain number. My alarm bells went off.
I frequently shop on Jumia, and I know how legitimate delivery notifications look—this wasn’t it. I Googled the real FedEx customer service number; it didn’t match the one I received. I even called the real FedEx line, and it became clear: this was a scam.
Still pretending to play along, I called the “agent” from the WhatsApp number. He said the package could be sent to my house if I paid ₦10,000 upfront. I told him I prefer payment on delivery, like Jumia offers. He got angry and insisted I pay first. I informed the so-called U.S. guy, and he begged me to try, saying his wallet and hidden money were at stake.
That was the final straw. I confronted him, told him I knew it was a scam, and advised him to sharpen his game—because he wasn’t even a good fraudster.
THIS STORY IS 100% TRUE.
I’ll be attaching screenshots of every conversation as proof.
I’m sharing this not for pity, but to warn other women not to fall for sweet words and fake promises online. These scammers are everywhere, and they know how to target people looking for love and support.
Sometimes I wonder—is it my aura that’s attracting scammers? Na me wey no even get money o 😩
