When I met someone who seemed perfect, I imagined a long and happy future together after just a few months of dating. But then he pulled a stunt that made me question everything. Now, I’m unsure if I made the right decision.
I used to believe wholeheartedly in love and thought Valentine’s Day was about celebrating genuine connections. But Andrew changed my perspective.
We had only been together for three months, yet he embodied everything I thought I wanted—charming, intelligent, and successful. Before diving into the deeper aspects of our relationship, let me explain how we met.
At 29, I encountered my boyfriend—two years my senior—under unusual circumstances. One day, he had a bizarre accident at work, tripping and landing his hand on a pair of scissors sticking out of a desk cup. As an intern, I was the one to treat him. Despite the pain, he made self-deprecating jokes, and by the time I finished stitching him up, he had already asked for my number.
I was a medical student interning at the hospital where he was treated, barely scraping by while chasing my dream of becoming a doctor. Meanwhile, Andrew was already thriving—working at a major tech company, earning six figures, and living comfortably. Ironically, his parents, both doctors, had hoped he would follow their path, but he chose coding instead. As a result, they cut him off. Looking back, I think he saw me as proof that his decision to reject medicine was justified.
From the beginning, I insisted on splitting our expenses when we went out. It wasn’t because I had extra money—I just didn’t want to be seen as someone who was after his wealth. He always found it amusing, chuckling, “You’re different from most girls.” In hindsight, I should have paid more attention to the way he said it.
Then came Valentine’s Day.
A week before, he teased me about having a surprise planned. I hesitated and reminded him that I couldn’t afford anything extravagant. He brushed off my concerns, telling me to trust him. I should have known better.
That evening, he arrived in an Uber Black instead of his car. When I asked about it, he casually said he wanted to go all out. My unease grew.
We pulled up to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city—the kind where menus don’t show prices because if you have to ask, you can’t afford it. Panic set in, but Andrew reassured me he had everything covered.
Throughout dinner, he seemed unusually giddy, recording parts of our date and making comments about how much I was eating, even though I barely touched my food. Something felt off, but the meal itself was the best I had ever had—until the check arrived.
$3,180.
My stomach dropped. Before I could react, Andrew picked up his phone, flipped the camera toward me, and grinned.
“So, babe, we’re splitting this, right?”
I thought I had misheard him.
I reminded him that he had assured me not to worry about money, but he simply laughed it off. “You ate, didn’t you?”
The restaurant fell silent. People were watching. My heart pounded as he turned the camera on himself and made a cruel remark aimed at his parents:
“Mom, Dad, you always wanted me to be a doctor. Well, here’s what life would’ve been like—dating someone who can’t even afford her own dinner!”
I was frozen in shock. Then, he casually tossed his credit card onto the bill, still smirking. That was the moment I snapped.
I grabbed my coat and walked out, ignoring his confused protests. I hailed a taxi with shaking hands, barely holding back tears.
On the ride home, my phone buzzed relentlessly with calls and messages from Andrew. When I finally checked, his texts were full of excuses:
“It was a joke, a prank. You’re overreacting. I was just proving a point to my parents. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t be mad. Answer me…”
I couldn’t believe him. Did he really think that was enough to erase the humiliation he had put me through? I blocked his number.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The betrayal stung more than anything.
But the worst part?
The next night, he showed up at my apartment, pounding on my door and calling my name. When he wouldn’t stop, I finally opened the door just enough to meet his gaze.
“If you come near me again, I’ll file a restraining order,” I warned.
His smirk vanished, and he left.
Later, I confided in my best friend, Kara, hoping for support. Instead, her response left me even more conflicted.
“Are you sure you want to break up over this?” she asked.
“He humiliated me,” I replied, still shaken.
“Yeah, but he paid in the end, didn’t he? Maybe he was just trying to impress his parents.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Wealth doesn’t make someone a good person.”
Kara sighed. “No, but it makes life a lot easier.”
Now, I can’t stop wondering—did I overreact? Was I wrong to walk away? What do you think?