At Christmas, my ex-husband brings me this “incredible” new phone. I was genuinely thrilled—I thought, “Wow, he really did something thoughtful.” Like a child with a new toy, I immediately set it up and carried it around. I’ll be using it every day for the next month, feeling thankful, while he enjoys the attention.
He also cherished the attention.
He kept telling our loved ones how he “spoiled” me, how he went all out, and how he chose the ideal present. Everyone was saying things like, “He’s such a good guy!” and “Aww, that’s so sweet!” Since I wouldn’t presume there was a catch, I’ll admit that I let folks think it was true.
Then, a month or so later, he casually approaches me and says, “Oh, by the way, you need to pay this amount,” as if reminding me to purchase milk.
I thought, “Pay what amount?”
At that point, he clarifies that the phone wasn’t truly “a gift” in the sense that the average person would interpret it. The best part? He had purchased it on credit, some ludicrous scheme with a ruthless interest rate. There was no opportunity for an early payout.Therefore, I was unable to just pay it off and go on. Whether I liked it or not, I had to make the interest and monthly payments.
He didn’t really get me a phone for Christmas.
As if he were Santa Claus, he arranged for me to purchase a phone for myself.
Even worse, when I calculated the interest, I would have paid nearly twice the phone’s true cost at the conclusion of the plan. He was able to act like a “generous hero” in front of everyone, but I had to bear the true cost and the shame of knowing that I had been a part of his little show.
What’s the funniest (and most annoying) part? People continued to view him as the person who offered this “amazing gift” even after that. In the meantime, I’m the one who pays for it covertly, month after month, like he smiled while pulling off some sort of holiday scam.
