When Natalie’s boyfriend always managed to “forget” his wallet whenever they went out to eat with his kids, she found herself constantly footing the bill, again and again, until she finally snapped. With both her patience and her savings running dry, she decided to take a stand — and in doing so, revealed who he truly was.
When I first began dating Evan, I genuinely thought he was flawless. At 39, he was witty, charming, and above all, a dedicated father to his two children, Liam and Emma. As a 32-year-old with no children myself, I admired the way he handled everything with such apparent ease.
Or so I believed.
It wasn’t until several months into our relationship that I began noticing the cracks in his seemingly perfect image.
It all started subtly.
Every week, we’d take his kids out for dinner. Evan always chose the restaurants — sometimes simple diners, sometimes more upscale places.
“Come on, Natalie,” he’d say with a grin. “Let’s enjoy life a bit!”
The kids loved it, squealing over desserts and excitedly trying new menu items. In the beginning, I didn’t mind at all. I assumed he wanted to create special memories with them, and I felt lucky to be included.
But then, the bills started adding up.
The first time Evan “forgot” his wallet, I didn’t think twice.
“Oh no, Nat!” he exclaimed, patting his pockets with an apologetic smile. “I must’ve left it at home. Can you cover this one? I’ll pay you back, of course.”
The second time, I raised an eyebrow. By the third, a knot of unease formed in my stomach. By the fifth, I realized it wasn’t an accident at all.
But what was I supposed to do?
The kids were there, and none of it was their fault. They had no idea I was barely getting by, juggling two part-time jobs just to stay afloat.
For months, I kept my mouth shut.
I didn’t want to embarrass Evan in front of Liam and Emma. They were innocent in all of this. And they adored him. I didn’t want to destroy the image they had of their father.
“But you have to speak up, Nat,” my sister Laurel urged. “This is only going to get worse.”
“But I feel so guilty!” I argued, sliding a pie out of the oven.
“I get it. But Evan will keep taking advantage if you don’t stop him. You’ve let it go on far too long. Please, Natalie. Do it for yourself.”
“How? Should I just forget my card next time?”
“If that’s what it takes!” she exclaimed. “Now, can I have a slice of that pie? You know I can’t resist pecan pie straight from the oven.”
I kept telling myself it was temporary, that one day Evan would see how unfair it was to keep putting this burden on me.
But he never did.
Or, if he did, he simply chose to ignore it.
Instead, he continued letting his kids order whatever they wanted. And I’m not talking about simple kid’s meals. I mean seafood platters, elaborate milkshakes with donuts dangling from them, and desserts that cost more than my weekly groceries.
“They deserve to enjoy themselves, Nat,” Evan would insist with a big smile. “Life with their mom is so strict. They deserve this freedom.”
I would nod along, pretending to agree, all while my heart raced as I handed over my card to the waiter.
And his excuses? Always the same.
I forgot my wallet.
I left it in my other jeans.
I didn’t think we’d need it tonight — I thought we were just going for a drive.
Each time, he brushed it off like it was no big deal.
“You’ve got this, Nat,” he’d reassure me. “I’ll pay you back. Or I’ll just cover the next one.”
By the time we’d been together for nine months, I had paid for more meals than I could even count, and my resentment was simmering dangerously close to the surface.
The final straw happened on a Friday night. I had just been paid from my second job and was looking forward to a quiet evening at home.
“I even bought some new nail colors, Sis,” I told Laurel over the phone as I walked back home.
“Oooh! Anything I’d like?” she asked, excitement in her voice.
“You mean, are there any colors you can steal?” I laughed.
“Exactly what I meant,” she giggled. “But tell me — what’s going on with Evan? If you weren’t spending so much on dinners, you could go to the fanciest nail salon and not even flinch at the price.”
I went silent for a moment. She was right.
“I haven’t said anything to him yet,” I admitted. “But… I’m exhausted. I’m starting to lose feelings for him. But I’m trying so hard not to let the resentment take over.”
“Sounds like the resentment’s already taken root, Sis,” she replied. “Please, do what you need to do. For yourself. Anyway, gotta run — a client just walked in.”
I walked into my apartment, thinking about the leftover curry I had in the fridge and how I might make that two-ingredient flatbread before painting my nails.
That’s when Evan and the kids walked through my door. The kids’ energy instantly made me smile.
“I don’t want to stay in tonight, babe,” Evan declared. “I want to go out. And I think the kids need it too. When I picked them up from their mom, they seemed so down. When I asked what was wrong, Liam just said she was being difficult.”
“But, Evan,” I said hesitantly. “I haven’t gotten paid yet.”
I hated lying. But it was a harmless little lie. I hoped it would finally make him step up.
“I’ll cover it this time,” he promised.
I hesitated, but when he flashed that charming grin of his, I caved in.
“I’ll take the kids back to my place so they can shower and get ready. Then I’ll come pick you up, okay?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I agreed. “I’ll get ready too.”
Later, just as Evan called to tell me he was about to leave, I sent him a text.
Don’t forget your wallet this time!
His reply? A laughing emoji.
We got to the restaurant — a much fancier place than usual — and the kids were thrilled. They were both dressed up, radiating pure excitement, and there was something so beautiful about it that I cherished. We ordered, and as always, Evan chose appetizers, entrees, desserts, drinks — piling up a bill so big my stomach twisted in knots.
When the waiter cleared our plates, I leaned over to Evan.
“You’re covering this one, right?” I whispered. “I really don’t have the money…”
His expression froze. Then, like clockwork, he began patting his pockets, transitioning from confusion to mock horror.
“Guess I left it in the other jeans I thought I was going to wear,” he said with a sheepish chuckle.
I stared at him, my hands gripping the table’s edge. The kids were happily giggling over their milkshakes, completely unaware of the storm brewing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said flatly.
“Come on,” he pleaded, flashing that same old grin. “You can cover this one, Nat. It’s just one dinner. I’ll pay you back.”
I had heard that line too many times. And this time? I was done.
What Evan didn’t realize was that I had come prepared.
I stood up, grabbed my purse, and looked him square in the eye.
“No, Evan. I’m not paying for this one.”
He blinked, utterly confused.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not paying for this dinner,” I said clearly enough for the waiter to hear. “You knew this was coming. You’ve been pulling this stunt every time, and I refuse to be your backup wallet anymore.”
Evan’s face turned beet red as the kids looked up, startled and confused.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
I turned and smiled politely at the waiter.
“Separate checks, please. Just for what I ordered. The rest is on him.”
The waiter nodded, clearly sensing the awkward tension. Evan began to panic, frantically patting his pockets again as though his wallet might magically appear.
“You can’t just leave us here like this!” he hissed, his voice rising.
“Watch me,” I shot back.
I turned to Liam and Emma, softening my voice.
“I’m sorry, guys. But this isn’t fair to me.”
Then, I slipped on my coat and walked out of the restaurant, my heart pounding wildly but my head held high.
Later that night, Evan called me, seething.
“Natalie, you embarrassed me in front of my kids!” he roared.
“No, Evan,” I replied calmly, 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’ve had enough.”
He launched into a tirade, calling me selfish, accusing me of abandoning his children and leaving them hungry.
“They weren’t hungry, Evan. They had a full meal. You should’ve just brought your wallet, like I reminded you. Stop trying to manipulate me.”
“You don’t understand, Natalie! You’re not a parent! I’m a single father — I have the kids most of the time, and money’s tight!”
“And so is mine!” I snapped. “I work two jobs, Evan. Two. And yet, you allowed me to pay for every single meal without ever once paying me back. That’s not a mistake, that’s a pattern.”
He fell silent, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might finally understand.
But then he muttered something that shocked me to my core.
“Maybe you need to reconsider how you treat my kids. They deserve better.”
I laughed, exhausted and bitter.
“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.
Ending things with Evan wasn’t about the money. It was about respect. I deserve someone who sees me as a partner — not a wallet.
Someone who takes responsibility instead of making excuses.
As for Evan?
I truly hope he’s finally putting that wallet of his to good use, because I won’t be there to bail him out ever again.
