One of our friends thought we should foot the bill for a $3,000 birthday dinner we had no part in planning — all because we didn’t contribute to his girlfriend’s pricey Gucci gift. My husband and I had a better solution. Let’s just say, entitlement met its match.
Hi, I’m Daisy. And I recently learned that my husband’s so-called best friend had been hiding behind a very convincing mask. What started as sweet birthday celebrations with close friends turned into a full-on financial hustle — and I wasn’t about to play along.
When Jeremy first introduced me to his tight-knit group of friends six years ago, I was charmed. Five couples in their late 20s and early 30s, celebrating life’s little wins together — birthdays, promotions, engagements. It felt like the kind of friendship group you see in feel-good movies.
Back then, birthdays were casual, heartfelt, and fun. The birthday person hosted and treated the group. We’d sit around laughing over homemade meals and inexpensive wine, arguing over the last slice of garlic bread.
“This is real friendship,” I told Jeremy after one of those early dinners, glowing with happiness.
“Wait till you see Rio’s birthday,” he replied, smiling. “He always goes over the top with decorations.”
It all felt so genuine. Until it didn’t.
Last year, things took a turn. Birthday invites started coming with group chat messages like, “Let’s go big this year! Everyone chip in for something amazing!”
Only the “amazing” part quickly escalated — designer sandals, Formula 1 tickets, and luxury handbags that cost more than some people’s rent.
One morning, I showed Jeremy a message on my phone. “They want $300 for John’s racecar driving experience.”
Jeremy froze mid-sip of his coffee. “Three hundred? Per couple?”
“Yep,” I sighed.
We didn’t want to be the ones to ruin the party or look stingy, so we gave in. First $300 for John’s racing day, then more for Christina’s designer heels, then again for someone’s fancy handbag.
Every time, the group cheered each other on in the chat — and every time, Jeremy and I quietly sent money we really should’ve been saving.
Then everything changed — in the best way. We had our daughter, Madison. And we finally launched our dream consulting business. We were still financially stable, but we had new priorities. Every dollar had meaning now, and that meaning didn’t include luxury gifts we couldn’t afford or agree with.
One night, holding Madison while reviewing invoices, I looked at Jeremy and said, “This can’t keep going.”