My boyfriend made me wait for two hours at an upscale restaurant for what was supposed to be a special night. When he finally showed up—with his friends—he smirked and said loudly, “See? I told you she’d still be here, like a lost puppy.” They all laughed.

We had been together for three years. I had just finished paying off his car loan.

I didn’t react. I just smiled and ordered another drink.

This morning, though, my phone was flooded with 78 missed calls—and everything he owns is now sitting in trash bags at the nearest dump.

I met Ryan three years ago in the most absurd way. My apartment was completely flooded because my upstairs neighbor somehow left their sink running and then went away for the entire weekend. Who even does that?

While the damage was being repaired, I stayed at my brother’s place. Ryan was the handyman assigned to fix everything. Every time he came over, there always seemed to be another issue to deal with. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if he was dragging things out on purpose just to keep coming back.

At the time, I thought it was kind of sweet. Now, I’m not so sure.

What I do remember is how easy it felt to talk to him. That was rare for me—I’m usually awkward around new people.

During that first year, everything seemed perfect. After eight months, we moved in together—way too soon, I know. But his lease was ending, and financially, it seemed like the practical thing to do.

Ryan worked odd jobs but always struggled to hold one down. Either he’d get fired for constantly showing up late or he’d quit because his bosses were idiots who didn’t appreciate his talent. Red flag number one that I completely ignored. Over the years, Ryan would send me these long, furious voice messages about how his employers were all morons who didn’t deserve him.

He’d rant about how they treated him like he was incompetent, mocked his accent, or laughed at how he dressed. He was convinced that he was the only thing keeping their businesses afloat. Yet, they never gave him the recognition he deserved. I saved these messages in my favorites folder, and sometimes when they were particularly unhinged, I even downloaded them.

I don’t know why I kept them. Maybe deep down, I knew they’d be useful one day. He did the same thing with his parents, especially when they refused to lend him money. He’d send them the most awful voice messages, calling his dad a failure and saying his mom was too weak-minded to think for herself.

One time, after they refused to help him with car payments, he sent a 5-minute rant about how they were nobodies who had accomplished nothing in life and how he was ashamed to be their son. I remember listening to that feeling deeply uncomfortable, but instead of addressing it, I just added it to my favorites folder. By year two, I was covering nearly all our expenses.

My job isn’t glamorous, but it’s stable. And I kept telling myself that relationships are about balance. Sometimes one person carries more weight until the other finds their footing. Ryan always promised things would get better soon. He just needed the right opportunity and everything would turn around.

6 months ago, Ryan’s car broke down. A flashy 2015 sports car that was way beyond his means. He was devastated, claiming it was his dream car and that he couldn’t hold down a job without it. Like an idiot, I offered to help with the payments since without a car, he couldn’t work consistently. That help quickly turned into me taking over the entire loan, $13.

86 a month, a huge financial burden for me. I suppose I just wanted to be supportive and believe this would finally help him get on track. People kept asking me why I was paying for his car. Looking back, the answer is painfully obvious, but at the time, I genuinely thought I was helping us both. We lived together, split expenses, and without transportation, he couldn’t keep a stable job.

And of course, he was ridiculously emotional about losing his baby. Uggh. So, last night was our third anniversary, and I had just made the final payment on his car last week. A massive sacrifice on my part. I booked us a reservation at a fancy restaurant downtown, the kind of place we had always talked about, but could never afford.

or rather, I could never afford to pay for both of us. I spent hours getting ready, new dress, perfect hair, everything. I arrived at 7:00 p.m. sharp for a reservation. Ryan texted that he was running late and told me to go ahead and get seated. By 7:30, I had already sent him three messages with no response. By 8:00 p.m.

, I called twice straight to voicemail. The waitress kept giving me these pitying glances, gently suggesting I could place an order or perhaps reschedule. I was beyond embarrassed, but kept insisting, “Oh, he’s just stuck in traffic while anxiously checking my phone every 2 minutes.” At 8:45, yes, almost 2 hours later, I was about to leave when Ryan finally strolled in with four of his friends.

This wasn’t some misunderstanding. He never mentioned bringing anyone else to our anniversary dinner. They swaggered over to my table laughing already a few drinks in. And then I still can’t believe this actually happened. Ryan turned to his friends and loud enough for the nearby tables to hear.

Said, “See, told you she’d still be here like a sad little puppy. 2 hours and I had stayed.” They all burst out laughing. One of his friends, Matt, who I always thought was a jerk, smirked and said, “Damn, you weren’t kidding. She’s trained well.” More laughter. Ryan pllopped down next to me, grabbed my face between his fingers like I was a child, and cooed.

This is why she’s the best. Most girls would have left, but my girl, she pays my bills, and waits around like a good little thing. Then he looked at me with a smug grin and said, “Uh, did you think this was going to be some romantic dinner? That’s adorable.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched, “We’ve got a poker game after this.

I just needed to make sure you were still good for next month’s payment first.” When I didn’t react, he roughly grabbed my chin and turned my face toward him. Hello, Earth to Cali. God, you’re pathetic sometimes. Say something. I didn’t say anything. I just smiled, ordered another drink, and this morning 78 missed calls and his stuff. Well, let’s just say he won’t be needing that Mustang anymore.

Or are you just going to sit there looking like a lost little puppy? His friends found this absolutely hilarious. Meanwhile, I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. 3 years together. I had just spent nearly $12,000 paying off his car. And this is what he really thought of me. This is how he described me to his friends.

Like I was some desperate, spineless doormat he could walk all over. The server approached, looking visibly uncomfortable, and asked if we were ready to order. Somehow, I managed to smile and say, “Actually, I’ll take another glass of wine first.” Ryan and his friends ordered round after round of pricey appetizers and drinks, cracking jokes about how patient I was and how lucky he was to have found someone so understanding.

Then Ryan gestured toward me and told the server. No need to bring her anything, though. She’s trying to slim down. Any more weight and we’ll need a bigger table. Everyone laughed while I sat there humiliated. When my wine arrived, I took a slow sip, set the glass down carefully, and stood up, saying I needed to use the restroom.

Ryan barely acknowledged me. He was too busy entertaining his friends with some story about how his boss was an idiot. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long time. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t even angry yet. I was just done. 3 years of making excuses. 3 years of financially carrying this relationship. 3 years of ignoring obvious warning signs.

And this was how he really saw me. That’s when I made a decision. I wasn’t going to yell. I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t going to throw my drink in his face. No. Ryan deserves something much more deliberate. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through all the saved voice messages. Those long rants where he trashed his boss, calling him a fraud and an idiot, and the ones where he called his parents useless failures.

I had dozens saved, some even backed up just in case. I sent a quick message to my friend Kate, who lived nearby, asking if she could pick me up in 10 minutes. Then I walked back to the table, smiled at everyone, and excused myself again, saying I needed to step outside for a quick work call.

As I left, I stopped by the server, paid for my wines, just my wines, and let her know that the gentleman at my table would be covering the rest of the bill. Then I walked out, got into Kate’s car, and blocked Ryan’s number before he even realized I was gone. But here’s the thing. I didn’t just block his number. I had a plan. Over the years, I had helped Ryan with countless tech issues.

That meant I had access to his email, cloud storage, banking app since I was making those car payments, and even his social media accounts. And let’s just say I know exactly how to share information in the most effective way possible. That was last night. This morning, I woke up to 78 missed calls from unknown numbers, probably his friends, and a flood of panicked messages from Ryan’s work phone, begging me to talk.

It was just a joke. What did you do? What did I do? Well, let’s just say his boss and his parents received some very interesting voice messages this morning. And that car he loved so much, turns out when you cancel a payment and provide the lender with evidence of fraud, they take repossession very seriously. More details soon.

For now, I need to finish packing up his things so they can be properly delivered to their new home, the city dump. For those asking if this is real, unfortunately, yes. For those worried about legal issues, don’t be. Everything I did was completely within my rights. I’ll explain more in my next update. First update, a lot of you wanted to know what happened after I walked out of the restaurant.

So, here it is. After Kate picked me up, I was in this weird eerie calm. Like, I wasn’t even crying, which is unusual for me. I literally tear up at sentimental commercials. I think I was just in shock. Emma kept asking if I was okay. I just stared out the window, thinking about all the voice messages I had saved from Ryan over the years.

When we got to Emma’s apartment, that’s when it all h!t me. I completely broke down. Fullon ugly crying, mascara running everywhere. the works. Emma didn’t say anything. She just sat with me, brought over ice cream and cookie dough, my absolute favorite, and let me vent for two straight hours. She didn’t even check her phone once, which honestly, that’s peak friendship.

Around midnight, my phone started blowing up with messages from Ryan. At first, he was furious. Where the hell did you go? And did you seriously just ditch me with the bill? Then his tone flipped. Suddenly, he was acting concerned. Are you okay? And just let me know you’re safe. By 1:00 a.m., the long paragraph started.

The classic gaslighting nonsense. It was just a joke. You’re overreacting. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this. I ignored every single one. Instead, I made a list. I make lists for everything. It helps me think. This one. This was a list of all the accounts I had access to.

His email left logged in on my laptop when I helped him job hunt. His Instagram he constantly forgot his password. His iCloud set up on my laptop when his phone broke. His Spotify. I paid for our shared family plan. His banking app I had access to make his car payments. Our shared streaming services. Again, all paid for by me.

As I wrote it out, I realized how insane it was that he had practically handed over his entire digital life to me. But it also gave me a sense of control, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Edit: A few people are worried this might be illegal. Don’t stress. He gave me these passwords and asked me to manage these accounts. I’m not hacking anything.

The next morning, running on about 3 hours of sleep, I got started. First up, the car. I logged into his banking app and saw that my last payment hadn’t fully cleared yet. It was still processing. Perfect. I immediately called the bank and explained the situation that I had been manipulated into making payments for someone else’s vehicle.

The customer service rep was incredibly understanding. They asked for documentation. So, I sent screenshots of texts where Ryan straight up admitted the car was his, not ours. I even mentioned that I had audio recordings of him bragging to his friends about how I was covering all his expenses. The rep put me on hold for what felt like forever.

When they came back, they told me they’d reversed the payment while they investigated. While I was dealing with the bank, Ryan called 15 times. Every call went straight to voicemail. His messages shifted from furious to desperate and back again. One voicemail actually made me laugh. You’re overreacting over a stupid joke and ruining our anniversary.

Our anniversary? The one where he showed up two hours late with his friends and publicly humiliated me? That anniversary? Sure, Ryan. By noon, I decided to check some of his other accounts. Not to be malicious, just to see if there was anything else I needed to know. And oh, there was plenty. I found messages.

Dozens of texts between Ryan and his friends planning the entire restaurant stunt. They had been laughing about it for days. One message from his friend Matt read, “Can’t wait to see her face when she realizes it’s not actually an anniversary dinner. Lol.” Ryan responded, “She’ll probably just sit there and take it like always.

” But wait, it got worse. As I kept digging, I found emails with some woman named Amber from his job. flirty messages, selfies, conversations dating back months, nothing explicit, but definitely way past the line of just co-workers. One email from just last week had the subject line after work with a single winky face emoji as the entire message.

At that point, my hands were shaking. Three years of my life, thousands of dollars, all the patience and support I had given him. And this is how he repaid me. I took a break, made coffee, spilled half of it because I was shaking so badly. Emma had already left for work, but kept checking in over text.

I just sent a quick I’m fine and went back to my investigation. Next, I opened his Google Drive. Through his email, I found a folder labeled voice notes. It was mostly workrelated recordings. And then I found one from three months ago. Ryan and Matt laughing, talking about how I was basically his sugar mama, how he was keeping me around until something better came along. I had given him everything.

And he had been laughing behind my back the entire time. So, I made another list. Send voice clips to his boss. The ones where he calls him incompetent. Send voice clips to his parents. The ones where he calls them failures. Cancel every shared subscription. pack up his stuff, change all my passwords, and lock him out of my accounts.

The voice messages were easy. I had them all saved in my Telegram favorites folder. Some of the messages were so shocking at the time that I had even downloaded them to my phone. I created a new Telegram account using a temporary number and sent the voice clips of Ryan insulting his boss directly to him.

I found his contact info in Ryan’s email he had recently sent over his resume. Then I did the same with his parents. I forwarded the clips where he mocked them, called them failures, and made fun of their lack of success. I didn’t add any commentary, just sent the recordings with a simple message. Thought you should hear how Ryan talks about you when you’re not around.

Next, I tackled all our shared accounts, streaming services, music, everything. Either I change the passwords or cancel them entirely. It felt incredibly satisfying to systematically erase him from my digital life. Then came the harder part, packing up his things. Ryan had been living with me for over 2 years, which meant he had a lot of stuff in my apartment.

I started with his clothes, shoving them into garbage bags without even folding them. A small act of defiance since I used to carefully fold all his laundry. Seven bags just of clothes and shoes. I was halfway through clearing out the bathroom when my doorbell rang. My heart stopped. I peeked through the peepphole. Ryan. He was standing there looking all sad, holding a bouquet of flowers. Flowers.

Like that would change anything. I didn’t answer. Instead, I backed away from the door and sat silently in the hallway, trying not to make a sound. The doorbell rang again and again. Then he started knocking, then calling my phone, which was already on silent. When that didn’t work, he started yelling through the door. Stop acting childish.

We need to talk like adults. He kept at it for at least 20 minutes. Eventually, one of my neighbors must have threatened to call building security because he finally left, but not before slipping a note under my door. We need to talk. I’m sorry about last night. It was supposed to be a joke. Please call me. a joke.

Being publicly humiliated by the person who’s supposed to love you. That’s not a joke. I went back to packing his things with renewed motivation. By 6:00 p.m., everything of his was packed into garbage bags and stacked by the door. 15 bags in total. 3 years of my life reduced to 15 garbage bags.

That’s when my phone pinged with an email notification. It was from the bank. They had approved the payment reversal. the money would be back in my account within 3 to 5 business days. I actually did a little victory dance in my living room. Not even 5 minutes later, my phone lit up with another message from Ryan. Why is there a tow truck outside my apartment? What did you do to my car? I didn’t reply, but I did smile a lot.

Then at around 8:00 p.m., my phone basically exploded with notifications. Turns out Ryan’s boss had received the voice messages and immediately called him in for a meeting from the flood of increasingly frantic texts Ryan sent me afterward. It did not go well. Apparently, his boss had already been suspicious about some issues at work, and hearing Ryan call him an incompetent idiot who couldn’t find his own ass with both hands was the final nail in the coffin.

Ryan was placed on probation pending further review. And his parents, they heard the recordings, too. They called him. His mom was in tears, demanding to know why he would say such awful things about them. His dad refused to even speak to him. By 1000 p.m., Ryan was sending these long, frantic messages about how I had ruined his life and how one stupid joke didn’t justify everything I had done.

He kept flipping between begging for forgiveness and threatening me with legal action. I saved every single text, but I didn’t respond. I crashed at Emma’s place again that night, not because I was sad, but because honestly, I wasn’t sure if Ryan would show up drunk or do something stupid. But when I woke up the next morning, I felt lighter.

For the first time in years, I had actually stood up for myself. No more making excuses for him. No more waiting around for him to change. The next step, figuring out what to do with all his stuff, 15 garbage bags of it. I wasn’t about to store them in my apartment indefinitely. And there was no way I was meeting up with him to return them.

That’s when Emma casually dropped a suggestion that made me gasp. What if we just took it to the dump? At first, it seemed extreme. Even after everything, I wasn’t sure I could literally throw away all his belongings. But then I thought about it. The emails, the planned humiliation, the flirting with Amber, the three years of me supporting him while he laughed behind my back.

So this morning, Emma borrowed her brother’s truck and we loaded it up. Before leaving, I did a quick final check through the bags just in case there was something irreplaceable, like a passport or a sentimental family heirloom. I’m not a monster. Then we drove straight to the local dump and well, we dumped it. Not going to lie, watching the garbage truck crush all his overpriced clothes and useless gaming collectibles. Therapeutic.

As we were driving back, my phone rang, an unknown number. I already knew who it was. I didn’t answer, but he left a voicemail. They took my car and I need to grab my stuff from your place. I have nothing to wear to work tomorrow. Too late, Ryan. Way too late. Now I’m back at my apartment. It feels weirdly empty without all of his things, but also so much more peaceful.

I changed the locks today. My landlord was completely understanding when I explained the situation. I know some people might think what I did was a lot, but after 3 years of putting him first, of being treated like an afterthought, of paying his bills while he mocked me to his friends, it felt like exactly what he deserved.

And the fallout still happening. His friend Matt has been blowing up my phone with angry messages. And apparently Amber from work is now super confused about why Ryan is suddenly ghosting her. The dominoes are still falling. For those asking about legal issues, don’t worry. I checked with a friend who knows this stuff. The car was in his name.

I had been making the payments as gifts, which means I was never legally responsible for it. And before anyone asks, no, I didn’t throw away everything. I kept a few important documents I found while packing. I’m not that petty. You all are amazing. The support on my last post was overwhelming, and so many of you wanted another update.

So, here’s everything that’s happened in the past week since Ryan’s belongings found their new home at the city dump. The morning after Emma and I got rid of his stuff, I woke up to this weird scratching sound at my apartment door. It wasn’t quite knocking, but it was obvious someone was there. I checked my doorbell cam. Thank god I installed one last year after a package thief situation and saw Ryan sitting on the floor outside my door.

He looked completely wrecked, hair messed up, wearing the same clothes from 2 days ago, hunched over and writing something. I turned up the volume and realized he was sliding notes under my door. One by one, I tiptoed to the door, still in my pajamas, and saw seven little pieces of paper on the floor.

Every single one was a desperate plea. Please talk to me. I need my stuff for work. My boss is going to fire me. My parents won’t answer my calls. My car is gone. What did you tell everyone? And the last one. I’m sleeping in Matt’s car. Please answer. For maybe 3 seconds, I felt a tiny bit bad. Then I remembered sitting alone in that restaurant for 2 hours while he and his friends planned to humiliate me.

Nope, not today, Satan. I quietly collected the notes, evidence, just in case, and went to make coffee. And because life has a twisted sense of humor, my coffee machine decided that was the perfect moment to d!e mid brew. Of course, I had to resort to my emergency instant coffee stash, the one I keep for power outages.

The day was already off to a fantastic start. While sipping my sad excuse for caffeine, I checked my phone. 83 missed calls, texts from numbers I didn’t recognize, and 17 voicemails. Ryan had been busy. I was about to delete everything when I noticed a voicemail from his mom. That was unexpected. I decided to listen.

She sounded upset, but not angry. She actually thanked me for opening her eyes to how her son really treated people. She said she had no idea he was capable of this and was ashamed that she had raised someone who would treat a partner that way. I saved the voicemail but deleted everything else. A lot of you have asked if I called her back. Not yet.

I’m still processing everything and honestly I don’t want to get pulled into family drama. Maybe someday. Later that day, my doorbell rang again. I checked the camera. Ryan was gone, but his friend Matt was standing there. Great. I didn’t answer, but Matt started talking anyway, knowing I could hear him through the door.

He said Ryan was destroyed, that I needed to stop this revenge game because I had taken things too far. Then he said something that made me pause. He claimed he had never been at the restaurant that night and had no idea what Ryan had done until afterward. That was a bold-faced lie. I literally watched him laugh at Ryan’s jokes about me.

Was he actually trying to gaslight me now? I checked the doorbell cam footage later and realized Matt had been recording the entire time. Sneaky little jerk was trying to bait me into saying something incriminating. Nice try. After he left, I packed an overnight bag and went to Emma’s. My apartment felt weirdly empty and every little sound made me jump.

On the way, I checked my bank account because anxiety and saw the car payment refund had already processed. That was fast. These things usually take forever, so I actually did a little happy dance on the sidewalk, probably looking like a total weirdo to everyone passing by. Totally worth it.

At Emma’s, we ordered takeout and went through everything that had happened systematically. She helped me map out the events, and for the first time, I saw just how much I had actually gone through. For a moment, I wondered if I had taken things too far. Emma must have seen the hesitation on my face because she grabbed my phone, pulled up the screenshots of Ryan’s emails planning my humiliation, and made me read them out loud. Nope.

I hadn’t gone too far. Not even close. That night, I got curious about how effective my little Telegram operation had been. I made a new Instagram account. Don’t worry, random name, stock photo, and looked up Ryan’s profile. It was public, of course, because he’s building a personal brand. His words, not mine. His latest post was a long, rambling, non-apology about how he had made mistakes and hurt people who didn’t deserve it.

Classic vague booking, no actual accountability. The comments were a mess. Some of his friends were asking what happened. Some girl, probably Amber, had commented, “Call me crying face.” His cousin had written, “Grandma’s asking why you’re not answering her calls.” While I was totally not stalking, my phone buzzed with a text from Damon, a mutual friend.

Can we talk? Not taking sides, just confused. I ignored it. Then he sent another one. Ryan told everyone you hacked his accounts and stole from him. But that doesn’t sound like you. Excuse me, what? I called Damon immediately. He picked up on the first ring, sounding shocked. I actually called and what he told me was unbelievable.

Apparently, Ryan had been telling everyone a completely different version of events. According to him, I had gone psycho after a tiny joke at dinner, hacked his accounts, stolen money, and destroyed all his possessions out of pure female hysteria. His actual words, he was painting himself as the innocent guy dealing with a crazy ex-girlfriend on a revenge rampage.

I took a deep breath and asked Damon one question. Do you actually want to know what really happened? When he said yes, I didn’t hold back. I told him everything. The 2-hour wait, the public humiliation, the planned emails, the voice messages about his boss and parents, the fact that I had been paying for his car while he mocked me.

Then I played him the voice clip where Ryan called me his personal ATM. There was a long silence. Then Damon just said, “Holy he’s been lying to all of us.” Ryan had been trashtalking me to his friends for months, painting me as controlling and unstable. None of it was true, but they had believed him because, well, he was their friend.

Damon apologized for not reaching out sooner and asked if he could tell the others the truth. I told him to go ahead. The next morning, I went back to my apartment, Emma by my side, just in case Ryan was lurking. The hallway was clear, but there were more notes under my door. Angrier this time. You’re ruining my life.

You’ll regret this. And my personal favorite. I know what you did with my stuff. Yeah, I took it to the dump. That wasn’t exactly a secret. That wasn’t exactly a secret. Later that day, I got an email from HR at Ryan’s workplace. They were investigating a situation and asked if I would provide relevant information. I forwarded them the worst voice messages where Ryan insulted his boss and admitted to slacking off.

That night, Ryan posted something vague about unemployment in America. Draw your own conclusions. Then, while grocery shopping, I literally ran into Ryan’s mom. She wasn’t angry. She thanked me for sending the voice clips, saying she and Ryan’s dad had been financially supporting him without realizing he was mocking them.

Turns out they had put the down payment on his car and co-signed a loan. She apologized for raising someone who would treat a partner that way. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about the emails or the other girl. When I got home, there was a package outside my door. No notes, just a Starbucks gift card and a note from my neighbor thanking me for getting rid of Ryan.

That night, I changed my phone number and locked down my social media. Then this morning, I got the final confirmation. The car loan was terminated, the vehicle repossessed. The loan was officially Ryan’s problem. Now, Emma asked if I felt bad. I thought about it and realized I didn’t. Not even a little bit.

Instead of paying for his car, I’m putting that money into my savings, and I’m thinking about adopting a cat. Ryan always claimed he was allergic. He wasn’t. As for Ryan, the last I heard from Damon, he’s still crashing on Matt’s couch, still unemployed. His car is gone, his belongings are gone, and his reputation is in complete shambles.

All because he couldn’t resist publicly humiliating the one person who had been supporting him for years. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, I guess. Thanks for all the support, everyone. to answer a few common questions. No, I don’t think I’ll ever speak to Ryan again, not even for closure.

I checked with a friend who knows legal stuff, and everything I did was completely within my rights. I didn’t keep anything of his except important documents, which I’ll be mailing to his parents. And yes, I’m seriously considering changing the locks again just in case he made copies. I’ll update again if anything major happens, but hopefully this chapter of my life is officially closed.

For those asking about how I sent the voice messages, it wasn’t anything complicated. I literally just forwarded the Telegram voice messages he had sent me to the people he had been trash talking. Telegram makes it ridiculously easy to forward messages or save them and send them in a new chat. No hacking necessary.

Now for the final update because it’s been 6 months since all of this went down and a lot of you have been demanding me asking how things turned out. So here’s the closure post. First off, I moved about a month after everything happened. Even though Ryan was gone, my old apartment just didn’t feel right anymore.

My lease was ending anyway, so I found a smaller but way cozier place across town. It costs a bit more, but honestly, the piece of mind is worth every penny. Also, I got a cat. Her name is Cammy. She’s a sassy little tortois shell, and for some reason, she absolutely hates men. My brother came over to help me put together a bookshelf, and she hissed at him the entire time.

But every night, she curls up on my pillow and purr like a lawn mower. Soul sister energy. Financially, things are looking up, too. I’ve been putting all the money I used to spend on Ryan’s car payment into savings, and it’s already added up to over $2,300. I’m using some of it to take a solo trip to Portland next month.

I’ve never traveled alone before and I’m nervous but also so excited. Now for the Ryan updates because I know that’s what most of you are here for. About a month after my last post, Ryan lost his job completely. Not because of the voice messages I sent, though those definitely didn’t help, but because he kept showing up late and apparently had a full-on meltdown in a team meeting.

I know this because his mom still texts me occasionally. We’ve developed this weird dynamic. It’s not exactly a friendship, but there’s definitely a sense of mutual respect now. Ryan moved back in with his parents for a while, but according to his mom, that didn’t last long. He refused to follow house rules, kept comi

ng home drunk at 3:00 a.m., never helped out, and was generally just Ryan. So, his parents finally gave him an ultimatum. Get a job and contribute, or move out. He chose to move out. Now he’s apparently bouncing from couch to couch, though his friend’s circle has dramatically shrunk. And his car, the loan company, sold it at auction. And get this, it sold for less than what was still owed on it.

Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy. So now on top of everything else, Ryan has to keep making payments on a car he doesn’t even own anymore. His mom told me he actually tried to go after me legally for it, but his own lawyer shut that down immediately. Since the payments I made were considered gifts and I had actual evidence of his fraud, he didn’t have a case.

Meanwhile, Amber, the girl from his work, is now officially his girlfriend. Though, from what I’ve heard through mutual friends, it’s already a complete mess. She caught him talking to other women on Tinder while they were together, but took him back anyway. They’ve already broken up and gotten back together four times. Poor girl is exactly where I was 3 years ago.

And honestly, I really hope she figures it out faster than I did. Oh, and I almost forgot the weirdest part of this entire saga. 3 months ago, Ryan’s brother reached out to me on Instagram. We had met maybe twice in the entire time I was with Ryan, so this came completely out of nowhere.

He started off apologizing for his brother’s behavior, which fine, normal enough. But then he asked me out. I just sat there staring at my phone like, “Sir, read the room.” I politely declined, then blocked him. Some people truly have zero self-awareness. Now that I’ve had some distance, I actually sat down and calculated approximately how much money I spent on Ryan over our three years together.

Between the car payments, covering rent when he was between jobs, paying for most of our dates, and the many loans that were never repaid, the total came to over $30,000. That’s a down payment on a house. I could have traveled the world. I could have paid off my student loans. Instead, I funded the lifestyle of someone who looked me in the face and called me a pathetic puppy.

Some people in the comments have said, “I went too far by getting him fired and exposing him to his parents.” First of all, I didn’t get him fired. His own words got him fired. Second, if you’re still defending him after he spent days planning and executing a public humiliation of the one person who supported him for years, maybe take a moment and ask yourself why that is.

And for those wondering if I’d ever consider talking to him again for closure, the answer is no. I don’t need to hear his excuses. I don’t need his side of the story. My closure happened the moment I walked out of that restaurant 6 months ago. Everything since then has just been confirmation that I made the right choice. So that’s where things stand.

If you take anything from my story, let it be this. When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. And if they call you a pathetic puppy, take their car. Dump their stuff at the local landfill. That’s just a joke.