Names changed. Feelings not.
I swear it started with sixty dollars.
D sent me $60 with no context and a heart. I texted back, “What’s this for?” He said, “The sweatshirts.” I said, “Bet,” thinking it was just for the hoodies I was designing for him. He got quiet. Then he got weird. Then he got mad.
And that’s how the whole night fell apart like a cheap folding chair.
See, I’m Nia. I used to be outside (don’t judge)dinner dates, free flights, pretty privilege, the works. Then I met D. I cut my playa ways, put my phone face-down, and tried to build with a man who said he was “tired of childish women and ready for something real.”
Whew. If only I knew “real” meant “real stressful.”
The Trigger
He cash apps me, and when I don’t react like he dropped a stimulus check, he gets offended. I’m just trying to keep things business-like because money between lovers gets messy. To me, $60 was for hoodies. To him, it was “proof he cares.”
Next text:
“You don’t appreciate s**t.”
“Why you always acting funny?”
“Who’s DayDay? You playing with my intelligence.”
I’m blinking at my phone like… sir, what?
I tell him, “Relax. I’m grateful. I just thought it was for the sweatshirts.”
