My boyfriend, Jake, and I have been together for nine months. He’s charming, funny, and great with his kids — but there’s one tiny problem: every time we go out to eat with them, he “forgets” his wallet.It started small. The first time, he laughed it off. “Oh no, babe, I must’ve left my card at home!” I didn’t think much of it and covered the bill. But then it happened again… and again.
Every week, like clockwork, he’d suddenly pat his pockets and give me the same sheepish grin. “You don’t mind, do you? I’ll get it next time.”Except next time never came.Last week, after I got paid, he suggested a “special dinner” with his kids. “They’ve been craving steak,” he said, smiling like he was doing me a favor. The kids ordered the most expensive things on the menu — lobster, ribs, milkshakes, desserts — and I just smiled. Because this time, I had a plan.
When the bill came, Jake reached for his pocket and did his usual act. “Oh no, forgot my card again.”I tilted my head. “That’s okay,” I said sweetly. “We’ll just split it.”Split it?” he blinked.“Yeah,” I said, waving to the waiter. “Separate checks, please. His and mine.”The waiter nodded. Jake’s smile faltered. “Wait—what?”I leaned back in my chair. “You ordered the kids’ meals, remember? You said you’d cover it.”He stammered, patted his empty pockets again. “I—I told you, I forgot my card!”
I smiled. “No worries. I’ll wait while you run home and grab it. I’m sure the kids will love the extra time with you.”The waiter placed the two bills down. I paid mine and left a generous tip. Jake’s face turned red as he fumbled for excuses.I kissed the kids on the forehead, smiled, and said, “See you later, champ.”Then I walked out, feeling ten pounds lighter.
Two days later, he texted me an apology. I never replied.Because the truth is — if a man “forgets” his card but never forgets dessert, he’s not forgetful. He’s just cheap.And I don’t date cheap men.
