When I first started dating Evan, I thought he was everything I had been looking for. At 39, he was charming, funny, and such a great father to his two kids, Liam and Emma. I was 32, without kids of my own, and I admired how he balanced his responsibilities so well. He seemed perfect, or so I thought.
But after a few months, I began to notice some things that didn’t sit right with me.
It all started so small, barely noticeable at first. Every week, we’d go out for dinner with the kids. Evan always chose the place—sometimes a cozy diner, other times a more expensive restaurant.
“Come on, Natalie,” he’d say with a mischievous grin, “let’s live a little!” The kids would giggle with excitement as they looked at the menus, already dreaming of desserts and treats. At first, I thought it was sweet—he wanted to create special memories with his kids, and I was happy to be part of it.
But then, something started happening that I couldn’t ignore.
The first time Evan “forgot” his wallet, I didn’t think much of it. “Oh no, Nat!” he said, acting embarrassed, patting his pockets like he couldn’t believe it. “I must’ve left it at home. Can you get this one? I’ll pay you back, of course.”
No big deal, right? But then it happened again, and again. By the fifth time, I was starting to feel uneasy. Each time, the story was the same: “I forgot my wallet,” or “It’s in my other jeans.” I didn’t want to cause a scene, especially not with the kids there, but I was starting to feel taken advantage of.
The worst part? I was struggling to make ends meet. I worked two part-time jobs just to get by, but Evan seemed to act like paying for dinner was no big deal. And the kids? They didn’t know how hard I was working. They didn’t know that each time Evan forgot his wallet, it was putting more strain on me.
One day, while I was baking a pie at home, my sister Laurel gave me a reality check.
“You’ve got to speak up, Nat,” she said, her voice firm. “This is just going to keep happening.”
“I don’t want to say anything,” I sighed, pulling the pie out of the oven. “I feel bad.”
She shook her head. “I get that, but you’ve let this go on too long. He’s expecting it now. You have to set some boundaries, or it’s never going to change.”
“Yeah, I know, but how do I even bring it up?” I asked.
Laurel just grinned, picking up a piece of the pie. “If you have to, forget your card next time.”
I knew she was right, but I kept telling myself it was just a phase. Evan would come around. He’d realize how unfair it was.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he kept letting the kids order whatever they wanted—fancy seafood platters, crazy milkshakes with donuts on top, desserts that cost more than my grocery bill for the week. “They deserve it, Nat,” he’d say. “Life with their mom is strict. They deserve to have fun.”
And me? I was just there, nodding along and swallowing my frustration, all while handing over my card again and again.
Evan’s excuses never changed. He was always “forgetting” his wallet. Always claiming he didn’t think we’d need it or that he’d just bring it next time. And every time, it felt like a punch in the gut.
By the time we’d been together for nine months, I had paid for so many meals, I couldn’t keep track. I was tired—physically, emotionally, and financially drained. But it wasn’t until one Friday evening that I finally reached my breaking point.
I had just gotten paid from my second job, and I was looking forward to a quiet night in. I was even planning to treat myself to some new nail polish colors. I called Laurel to tell her about my plans.
“I got some new nail colors, Sis,” I said, excitedly.
“Ooooh! Anything I’d like?” she asked, playful.
“You mean, colors you can steal?” I laughed.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Laurel replied. “But seriously, what’s up with the Evan situation? If you didn’t spend so much on dinners, you could go to the fanciest nail salon without blinking an eye.”
I paused. “I haven’t said anything yet,” I admitted. “But I don’t know… I’m starting to lose my feelings for him. The resentment is growing.”
“I can tell,” she said, her tone serious. “Please, Nat. Do what you need to do for yourself.”
After hanging up, I headed home, thinking about my quiet evening. But then Evan and the kids showed up unexpectedly. Evan was full of energy, insisting that we go out.
“I think the kids need it,” he said. “When I picked them up from their mom’s, they were really quiet. Liam said she’s been difficult.”
I was already mentally preparing for a night in. “But Evan,” I hesitated, “I haven’t gotten paid yet.”
“I’ll cover it this time,” he promised, flashing that charming smile of his.
I knew what that meant. I’d end up paying. But I caved anyway.
“I’ll take the kids back to my place to shower,” he said. “Then I’ll come get you.”
When he called later to tell me he was on his way, I texted him.
“Don’t forget your wallet this time!”
He replied with a laughing emoji. As if it was some kind of joke.
At the restaurant, things got worse. The kids were thrilled, dressed up and smiling, while Evan ordered everything—appetizers, entrees, desserts. The bill was growing so high, I could feel my stomach tightening.
I leaned over to Evan as the waiter cleared our plates. “You’ve got this, right?” I whispered. “I don’t have the money for this.”
Evan froze. Then, in his usual pattern, he started patting his pockets. “Guess I left it in the other jeans,” he said, pretending to be surprised.
I felt my anger rise. “You’re joking,” I said flatly.
He smiled that same grin. “Come on, Nat. You can get this one. I’ll pay you back, I swear.”
This time, I couldn’t do it anymore.
“No, Evan. I won’t get this one,” I said, standing up and making sure everyone could hear me.
His face went red. “What do you mean?” he hissed.
“I’m not paying for this dinner,” I said, my voice steady but loud enough for the waiter to hear. “You’ve done this too many times, and I’m done being your backup wallet.”
Evan started to panic, patting his pockets again like his wallet might magically appear. “You can’t just leave us here!” he said, his voice rising.
“Watch me,” I replied coolly, turning to the waiter. “Separate checks, please. Just for what I ordered. The rest is on him.”
The kids were watching, their eyes wide with confusion. “I’m sorry, guys,” I said to them gently. “But this isn’t fair to me.”
Then, with my heart pounding, I walked out of the restaurant, my head held high.
Later that night, Evan called, furious. “Natalie, you embarrassed me in front of my kids!”
“No, Evan,” I said calmly, sitting down with my nail polish in front of me. “You embarrassed yourself. You’ve been using me to pay for your meals for months, and I’m not doing it anymore.”
He started yelling about how selfish I was, accusing me of abandoning his kids and leaving them hungry.
“They were not hungry!” I snapped. “I’d never do that. You should’ve just brought your wallet, like I told you. Stop taking advantage of me.”
Then, his words stunned me. “You don’t understand, Natalie. You’re not a parent. I’m a single parent, and money’s tight.”
“And so is mine!” I shouted. “I work two jobs, Evan! 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, there was silence. But then, he muttered, “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 never looked back.
Breaking up with Evan wasn’t just about the money. It was about respect. I deserve someone who sees me as a partner, not just someone to cover his bills. Someone who takes responsibility instead of making excuses.
As for Evan?
I hope he’s learned something from that dinner—and that his wallet is finally getting used the way it should be. What do you think of the story? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
