“I’m sorry, guys. But this isn’t fair to me.”
Then, I grabbed my coat and walked out of the restaurant, my heart pounding but my 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 calmly, closing 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 launched into a tirade about how selfish I was, how I’d abandoned his children and left them hungry.
“They were not hungry. I’d never do that, Evan. You should’ve just brought your wallet, like I told you.
Stop taking advantage of me, man.”
“You don’t understand, Natalie. You’re not a parent. I’m a single parent, and I have the kids most of the time.
Money’s tight.”
“And so is mine!” I snapped. “I work two jobs, Evan. Two.
And yet you’ve let me pay for every meal without so much as offering to pay me back. That’s not a mistake, that’s a pattern.”
He fell silent, and for a moment, I thought he’d finally understood.
But then he muttered something that shocked me.
“Maybe we need to rethink how you treat my kids. They deserve better.”
I laughed, bitter and tired.
“No, Evan.
They deserve better than a father who manipulates people to get what he wants.”
I hung up, blocked his number, and I haven’t looked back since.
Breaking up with Evan wasn’t just about the money. It was about respect. I deserve someone who sees me as a partner, not a meal ticket.
Someone who takes responsibility instead of making excuses.
As for Evan?
I hope he learned something from that dinner, and that his wallet has been getting a lot more use since I walked away.
