When I first met Evan, I thought he was everything I had been looking for. He was 39, funny, charming, and so great with his two kids, Liam and Emma. I was 32 and didn’t have kids of my own, but I admired how Evan seemed to handle everything—his work, his kids, everything—with such grace.
At least, that’s what I thought.
It took a few months before I started noticing cracks in this picture-perfect image he had painted. It all began subtly, in little ways I didn’t want to acknowledge at first. But eventually, I couldn’t ignore it.
Every week, Evan would suggest we go out for dinner. It was his tradition, taking the kids out to different restaurants—sometimes casual diners, other times fancier places. It was his way of creating special memories with them, and I was happy to join in.
“Come on, Natalie,” he’d say. “Let’s live a little!” Liam and Emma would squeal with excitement, especially when they saw the dessert menu. It felt like such a sweet way to bond, and I didn’t mind it at all in the beginning.
But then, the bills started stacking up.
The first time Evan “forgot” his wallet, I didn’t think much of it. “Oh no, Nat!” he said, a sheepish smile on his face as he patted his pockets. “I must’ve left it at home. Can you get this one? I’ll pay you back, of course.”
The second time, I raised an eyebrow. The third time, I felt that nagging feeling in my stomach. By the fifth time, I knew something wasn’t right.
But what could I do?
Liam and Emma were there, enjoying their meals and laughing. They didn’t know about the financial strain I was under. I worked two part-time jobs just to keep afloat, and I certainly wasn’t rolling in money. I didn’t want to ruin their fun or make them feel uncomfortable. After all, they didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this mess.
But the guilt began to gnaw at me. My sister, Laurel, saw right through it. “You’ve got to speak up, Nat,” she told me one day, as I was pulling a pie out of the oven. “This is just going to keep happening.”
“But I feel bad!” I said, my hands shaking as I sliced the pie. “I don’t want to make things awkward. What if he doesn’t understand?”
“Laurel, I’m tired,” I replied. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t want to be resentful, but I’m getting there.”
“You need to do it for yourself, Nat,” Laurel urged me. “If you don’t, it’s just going to get worse.”
I didn’t want to confront him, but deep down, I knew she was right. Still, I kept telling myself that Evan would eventually realize how unfair he was being.
But Evan never realized. Or if he did, he just ignored it.
Instead, he continued to let the kids order whatever they wanted—fancy milkshakes with donuts on top, seafood platters, and desserts that cost more than I spent on groceries for the whole week.
“They deserve this, Nat,” he’d say. “Their life with their mom is pretty strict, and they deserve to have some fun.”
I’d smile and nod, trying to hide my growing anxiety as I handed over my credit card. Each time, the bill got bigger. But Evan would always say the same thing.
“I’ll pay you back, Nat,” he’d say. “Or I’ll cover the next one.”
But the next one never came.
By the time we’d been dating for nine months, I had paid for more dinners than I could count. I was frustrated, angry, and felt completely used.
One Friday evening, I’d just been paid from my second job and was looking forward to a quiet night in. I called Laurel, hoping for some advice.
“I even bought new nail colors,” I said, smiling. “Oooh! Anything I’d like?” she teased.
“Not if you’re planning on stealing them!” I laughed. “But, listen, I’m done with Evan. I haven’t said anything yet, but I’m running out of patience.”
“Natalie,” Laurel said gently. “You’ve got to do something about it. This isn’t just about the money anymore. It’s about how he’s treating you.”
“I know,” I sighed. “But I don’t know how to bring it up. I’m so tired of all of this.”
“I get it, Sis. But do what you have to do, okay? Do it for yourself.”
Later that night, I was getting settled in at home, thinking about what to eat when Evan and the kids unexpectedly showed up at my door. Their energy instantly brightened the room.
“I don’t want to stay in tonight,” Evan said. “I think the kids need to get out. When I picked them up from their mom’s, they were really quiet. Liam said she’s been difficult.”
“Evan, I haven’t gotten paid yet,” I said hesitantly.
But Evan smiled, that easygoing grin of his, and reassured me. “I’ll cover it this time,” he promised.
I hesitated but agreed. “Okay,” I said, feeling like I had no choice.
The kids were so excited. They quickly ran to Evan’s place to get ready, and I went to shower, hoping this night wouldn’t turn out like all the others.
When Evan called to say he was leaving, I sent him a text: Don’t forget your wallet this time!
His reply was a laughing emoji.
At the restaurant, everything seemed perfect at first. The kids were dressed up, excited for the night, and the atmosphere was lively. But then Evan ordered a round of appetizers, followed by entrees, drinks, and fancy desserts. The bill was adding up, and I could feel the pressure building inside me.
As the waiter cleared the plates, I leaned over to Evan and whispered, “You’ve got this, right? I don’t have the money.”
Evan froze. Then, like clockwork, he started patting his pockets with a look of mock horror. “Guess I forgot it in the other pair of jeans I thought I was going to wear,” he said with a laugh.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my purse, stood up, and looked him dead in the eye. “No, Evan. I won’t get this one,” I said firmly.
“What do you mean?” he asked, clearly confused.
“I mean, I’m not paying for this dinner,” I said, louder now, so the waiter could hear. “You’ve done this every time, and I’m done being your backup wallet.”
His face turned bright red. “What are you doing?” he hissed, voice rising.
I smiled at the waiter. “Separate checks, please. Just for what I ordered. The rest is on him.”
The waiter nodded, sensing the awkwardness of the moment. Evan began to panic, patting his pockets again as if his wallet would suddenly appear. “You can’t just leave us here!” he said, his voice rising.
“Watch me,” I replied.
I turned to Liam and Emma, who were watching with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, guys,” I said, my voice soft. “But this isn’t fair to me.”
With that, I grabbed my coat and walked out, heart pounding but head held high.
Later that night, Evan called me, furious.
“Natalie, you embarrassed me in front of my kids!” he shouted.
“No, Evan,” I said, calm but firm, as I closed the bottle of nail polish on my coffee table. “You embarrassed yourself. You’ve been using me to pay for your meals for months, and I’m not doing it anymore.”
He raged on, accusing me of abandoning his kids and leaving them hungry.
“They weren’t hungry,” I snapped. “You should’ve just brought your wallet like I told you. Stop taking advantage of me.”
He tried to guilt-trip me, saying, “You’re not a parent, Natalie. I’m a single parent. Money’s tight.”
“And so is mine!” I fired back. “I work two jobs, Evan. Two. And yet you let me pay for every meal without ever offering to pay me back. That’s not a mistake, that’s a pattern.”
For a moment, he fell silent, and I thought maybe he finally understood. But then he muttered, “Maybe we need to rethink how you treat my kids. They deserve better.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “No, Evan,” I said bitterly. “They deserve better than a father who manipulates people to get what he wants.”
With that, I hung up, blocked his number, and walked away.
Breaking up with Evan wasn’t just about the money. It was about respect. I deserve someone who values me as a partner, not as a meal ticket.
As for Evan?
I hope his wallet’s been getting plenty of use since I walked out. What do you think of the story? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
