I honestly thought Valentine’s Day could keep my relationship intact. I was worn out from being the only one trying, and things with my boyfriend, Scott, had been falling apart for months. He hardly ever called or texted, and when we were together, he was preoccupied with his phone. Nevertheless, I persuaded myself that romance could mend the gradual damage caused by neglect. So I made a reservation at a high-end hotel. They save for special occasions like anniversaries or once-in-a-lifetime vacations. Marble bathrooms. windows from floor to ceiling. a swimming pool on the roof. Strawberries covered in chocolate are waiting on the bed. The sum was slightly more than $3,000. We decided to divide the expense. For now, just put it on your card, Scott advised.
“I will reimburse you. Don’t be concerned. This was a mistake, and I should have paid attention to the voice in my head. I wanted to believe him, though. I wanted to trust us. We checked in by the evening of Friday. The smell of money and jasmine filled the lobby. The space was ideal. The bed was covered in rose petals. A silver bucket filled with chilled champagne. I waited for him to respond while grinning. “Isn’t this ideal?” I inquired. He hardly took his eyes off his phone. “Yes. Yes. Silence sat like a third person between us during dinner. I made an effort to speak. inquired about employment. inquired about plans. inquired about his well-being. Every response was rushed, preoccupied, and agitated. When I woke up the following morning, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and gazing out the window as if he were practicing. He declared, “I need space.
” In actuality, we were on vacation. He put an end to it that night. Not in person. over text. while seated in the lobby of the hotel. “I believe we ought to split up. All I need is some alone time. Then he told me to get out. He reiterated his promise to reimburse me and stated that he would stay at the hotel to “clear his head.” While he browsed through his phone, I packed my belongings. He didn’t even look up when I left. I sobbed the whole way home. My bank notifications began to arrive the following day. room service. Tabs for bars. spa treatments. I gave Scott a call. Voicemail directly. I requested that the hotel stop using my card over the phone. The card on file would stay active until checkout, they assured me. The final bill appeared one week later. Nearly six thousand dollars. I saw it at that moment. a spa package for two people. He hadn’t been by himself.
I had paid for the hotel, but he had brought someone else. Feeling angry and trembling, I prepared to demand my money back as I drove to his apartment. However, I came to a complete halt when I arrived. The heels of a woman on the stairs. I didn’t recognize the purse. There was laughter coming from upstairs. I heard him say it with pride and clarity. She was a complete idiot. Everything was paid for. got rid of her when it was most appropriate. My heartbreak took a completely different turn at that point. I refrained from confronting him. I departed. I began packing up his belongings at home. old sweatshirts. Sneakers. A controller for a game. After that, I discovered something that completely altered my life. upscale goods.
designer fragrance. premium razors. skincare products. Unopened. Scott had a lot of influence. In exchange for his positive reviews, brands sent him free merchandise. He had tens of thousands of followers on Instagram. Contracts and sponsorships. He was always boasting about deals. At that moment, I realized something crucial. He had never closed the Instagram app on my iPad. I launched the application. I’m still signed in. I started by sharing a picture of the hotel bill. The entire $6,000. The caption was written precisely as Scott spoke: “I just spent the most amazing week at a five-star hotel! lived like a king by using my girlfriend’s money.
Champagne, lobster, and massages for couples with my new girlfriend. Sometimes using people to achieve your goals is necessary. No regrets. After that, I looked through his sponsored content. I wrote that the cologne brand had an odor similar to regret and stale pickles. I mentioned that the razor left his face resembling a crime scene. I mentioned in the skincare line that it resulted in the worst breakout he had ever experienced. I wrote that the fitness supplement made me feel humiliated and gave me stomach cramps. Post after post. Everything is in his name. Then, from his camera roll, one last post: Immediately following my breakup, I found a fantastic new girlfriend. I’ve already forgotten the name of the last one. The upgrade is finished.
The comments went viral in a matter of minutes. His followers are interrogating him. Unfollowing fans. Panicked brands are tagging him. My phone rang after that. Scott. I didn’t respond. I saw hundreds of his followers disappear. He was shaking and red-faced as he hammered on my door the following morning. He shouted, “You ruined me.” “I was dropped by seven brands. Two are threatening to file a lawsuit. Calmly, I informed him that the instant he chose to take advantage of me, he had destroyed himself.
As he stood there, his phone rang. A brand representative is shouting about a $50,000 campaign over the speaker. I told him to go after giving him a box containing his belongings. There were screenshots everywhere by that afternoon. It was too late when the posts were removed. He had lost his reputation. His transactions disappeared. In real time, his influencer career fell apart. As I ate ice cream on my couch, I observed the mayhem. Tears are the result of some heartbreaks. Mine had repercussions.