aside: boba-gate
CW: financial abuse
May 2023. I was excited, because Court was visiting. Eve and Han joined our dinner party, as M and I took Court to one of our favorite restaurants in East Nashville. We were walking down the sidewalk from our parked cars to the restaurant, chatting about our favorite cuisines and meals and little treats. It was a lighthearted, friendly conversation with lots of laughter.
The topic of bubble tea came up. M started gushing about how much they love boba. Someone, likely Court, asked what they like to order. M began to list some of the milk teas and fruit teas they like best, compiling quite the list.
With the same energy that the conversation had carried just moments before, I chimed in that I noticed over the last few months M went from ordering one boba, to ordering four, and I wondering if this was because I always ended up paying whenever we went out for bubble tea. While this was said in jest, it also held truth, and everyone laughed except for M. It had clearly hit a nerve.
They wouldn’t make eye contact with me as we all sat down, despite being seated directly across from me. When the server came to take our drink order. M ordered a cocktail, and the server asked to see ID. M looked to me, as I started to slide their ID out of my wallet.
At this point in our relationship, I was well trained to anticipate M’s needs and pick up after them. Much of this looked like always having the supplies they needed for any outing, and always knowing where important items like their keys and wallet were. One iteration of this looked like M asking me to keep their ID and debit cards in my wallet.
This time, when the server handed them back their ID, they put it in their pocket. I asked them if they wanted me to put it back in my wallet, they said no and asked to see their debit cards, too. Everyone at the table was aware of the tension now, though Eve and Han did their best to act naturally, while Court caught my gaze and held it knowingly.
We finished the meal, and M and I dropped Eve and Han each off at their apartments, and dropped Court off at their AirBnb.
On the drive back to the farm, M told me what happened according to them.
I made it seem like they take advantage of me by saying that I always buy the boba. (they did)
It wasn’t true that I always bought the boba, anyways. (it was, measurably so, RE: bank statements)
I rolled my eyes when they asked me for their ID out of my wallet. (I didn’t)
As if it was punishment, I was told that they didn’t want me to carry their ID and cards anymore. I said something about that being fine, but that I couldn’t keep track of their wallet for them, either. That didn’t go over well.
Following what I now refer to as “boba-gate,” came my “who paid last,” note in my phone.
The note was mutually agreed upon in its existence and function. Within this note was a carefully negotiated list of common spending categories in our day-to-day life together:
Meal
Drink/Snack
Fancy Meal
Gas
Groceries
The idea, as it had been from the start of our relationship, was that we alternated these kinds of purchases. So, each time a purchase within these categories was made, I would jot down the name of the person who picked up the bill, so that we could swap the next time. Each time I would erase the name that was there, and replace it with the other as we went back and forth.
Finally, M bought the boba half of the time.
About three months after I started keeping the “Who paid last,” note, we were standing at the counter at a gas station. The clerk rung up our order and announced the total. M looked at me and asked whose turn it was. I opened the note on my phone to reference. I was the last one to purchase in the drink/snack category, so with M looking over my shoulder, I erased my name and typed theirs as I said, “yours.”
“Do you really do that EVERY time?” they spat.
We were still standing at the counter. There were a couple of people in line behind us. Caught off-guard and put on the spot, I sputtered reassurance that of course I changed the name every time.
“I don’t know why you’re so defensive about it. I should be able to ask about my money.” they responded.
We were still standing at the counter. I don’t know what either of us said next. I know they ripped their debit card out of their wallet with a dramatic flourish, and paid for what couldn’t have been more than $10 worth of gas station snacks.
On the ride back to the farm, I was told how untrustworthy I am, and how inappropriate it was that I started an argument about money in public.
“All I did was ask you if you always change the name. All you had to say was yes. If you really were using that list the way we said we would, it wouldn’t have been a big deal and you would have just said yes.”
All of this is so inconsequential - the boba, the wallet, the list - but it paints a picture of the exhausting “death by a thousand cuts” that is so often a part of ongoing abuse.
“it wouldn’t have been a big deal,”
Well yeah, and it wouldn’t have been a deal (at all, big or small) for them to progressively expand their boba order, if they had just acknowledged it. It wouldn’t have been a big deal for me to hang onto their ID or wallet, either. But between the career they pulled me away from, the ever-increasing financial expectations they had of me, and what ultimately turned into over $25k of credit card debt… all of that going not only unacknowledged, but full on denied? That was a big deal.
“Who paid last” really strikes a note in the aftermath. When this is a book, that should be the title.