My Boyfriend ‘Forgets’ His Credit Card Every Time We Go Out To Eat, So I Have To Pay For Everyone

We go out once a week, usually for dinner. It’s become a regular thing—the four of us together, eating out and spending time as a little group.

A few months into dating Sam, I started noticing a pattern. It wasn’t anything huge at first, just little things that added up. One evening, we were out at a cozy family diner with Mia and Jake.

The kids were flipping through the menu, their eyes lighting up at all the choices. “Can I get the pancakes and bacon?” Mia asked, already beaming at the idea of her meal.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Sam smiled, encouraging them both to get whatever they wanted. Jake followed with an order of the biggest burger on the menu and a milkshake.

I didn’t think much of it until the check came. As usual, Sam patted his pockets, his face falling. “Oh no… I must’ve left my card at home.”

I looked at him, feeling that familiar twinge of frustration. I’d paid for our last three dinners. “Again?”

He laughed it off. “Yeah, sorry babe. Just this time, I promise.”

The bill sat between us, and I hesitated. It wasn’t a small amount. The kids had ordered half the menu, and my own paycheck was already stretched thin. But they were sitting there, excited and happy, and Sam had that apologetic smile on his face. I sighed, pulled out my card, and handed it over.

As the server walked away, Sam reached for my hand. “I’ll get you back next time, I swear.”

I nodded, but deep down, I knew I’d be paying again. Every time I said yes, it became easier for him to forget. The kids were content, the night felt warm, but I was left with a sinking feeling, knowing this couldn’t go on forever.

Last month, I started feeling it in my budget. I work two jobs—one full-time and one part-time—and it’s hard enough to keep up with rent, groceries, and bills. Paying for these dinners meant cutting back on things I needed.

I had to skip a few bills, eat more meals at home, and even started walking to work to save gas. Still, I told myself, he’s just forgetting; it’s not a big deal. But deep down, I was starting to feel taken advantage of.

This time, though, I had just gotten paid from my part-time job. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to cover my bills, finally. I knew we’d be going out, so I sent Sam a quick text: Hey, don’t forget your credit card this time! He replied with a laughing emoji. I wasn’t laughing.

We got to the restaurant, and the kids were excited as usual. Mia looked up at the menu, her eyes wide. “Can I get the chicken strips and the pizza, Dad?”

“Sure,” Sam said without hesitation. “Go ahead, get whatever you want.”

Jake was flipping through the menu too. “I want the big burger and the milkshake!”

“Of course, bud,” Sam replied with a grin.

I sat there quietly, watching them order. The total was going to be high. I knew it. I tried to relax, but my stomach was already tight, and I hadn’t even touched my water.

Before the food arrived, I leaned over to Sam. “Hey, did you remember your card this time?” I asked softly, trying to make it casual.

Sam’s face fell, and he patted his pockets, then gave me that same sheepish look. “Oh no… I guess I left it in my other jeans. I’m really sorry, babe. Could you cover this one? I’ll get you back.”

I stared at him for a second. “Are you serious? Again?”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Come on, it’s just this time.”

I shook my head, feeling my face heat up. “No, Sam. It’s every time. I’m broke. I can’t keep doing this.”

The food arrived, big plates piled high with all the stuff the kids ordered. I hadn’t even taken a bite, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I grabbed my bag and stood up.

“Wait, where are you going?” Sam asked, his voice rising.

“I’m leaving. I’m not paying for this again. Enjoy your dinner.” I turned and walked out before he could say another word.

My phone buzzed not long after I got home. Sam was calling.

I hadn’t been home long when my phone started buzzing. It was Sam. I stared at the screen for a second, still feeling the heat from our dinner confrontation. Part of me didn’t want to answer, but I knew I had to. I swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“Are you serious right now?” Sam’s voice was sharp. “You just walked out and left me and the kids there. What were you thinking?”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. “Sam, I’ve told you, I’m tired of paying for everything. It’s not fair.”

“You left the kids hungry!” he snapped. “We had to leave without eating. How could you do that? They didn’t understand why you were acting that way.”

I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling up again. “Sam, I didn’t leave them hungry. You let them order all that food, knowing you didn’t have your credit card. You’ve done this every single time. I can’t afford it anymore.”

His voice grew louder. “I forgot my card, okay? I wasn’t trying to trick you into paying! You’re acting like I planned this.”

“Sam, it’s not about you forgetting. It’s the fact that you always forget,” I shot back. “It’s happened too many times, and I’ve covered the bill every time. You don’t understand what this is doing to me.”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he said, “I can’t believe you would leave us like that. You walked out on my kids. They were confused, and now I have to explain why their dinner was ruined because you couldn’t show a little sympathy.”

My chest tightened. He was playing the sympathy card, bringing up the kids again. I loved Mia and Jake, but this wasn’t about them. It was about Sam not taking responsibility. “Sam, I’m not being selfish. I’m standing up for myself. I’ve been paying for everything and I’m broke. You have no idea how stressed I’ve been.”

“You didn’t even think about the kids,” he muttered. “I’m a father, I have responsibilities, but so do you. You’re supposed to care about them too.”

“I do care about them!” I nearly shouted. “But this isn’t fair to me. I can’t be the one covering for you every single time. I’m not their mom, and I’m not your bank.”

His voice dropped, low and angry. “I didn’t realize you could be so heartless.”

That hit me hard. I loved Sam, and I had done my best to be a part of his and the kids’ lives. But heartless? No. I wasn’t heartless. I was just tired—tired of being taken for granted. “Sam, this isn’t about being heartless. It’s about being fair. I can’t keep doing this.”

I couldn’t help but think, Where do I draw the line?

I wanted to be a supportive partner, and I cared about the kids, but this was becoming too much. Shouldn’t there be some kind of balance? Wasn’t it Sam’s responsibility, as a father, to take care of his kids, especially financially? And what about me? Should I be expected to keep paying just because I was dating him?

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became. I wasn’t just upset about the money—I was upset because it felt like Sam didn’t respect my limits.

I had tried to talk to him about it, but he brushed it off every time, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal. I had bills to pay, too.

I wondered if Sam really understood what I was going through. Or did he just see me as someone who could help out whenever it was convenient?

I didn’t know. But I knew I wasn’t staying anymore.

A month after I left Sam, I found myself back at the same restaurant. The same cozy booth, the same warm atmosphere. Only this time, I was alone.

I smiled as I looked over the menu, not feeling that familiar knot in my stomach, no longer worried about covering anyone else’s meal. I ordered exactly what I wanted—pancakes, bacon, and the biggest milkshake they had.

There was no guilt, no stress, just me, enjoying the moment.

When the server brought the check, I pulled out my card without hesitation. For the first time in months, I felt free—not just from the financial strain, but from the weight of always being the one to give. This meal, this moment, was for me. And I didn’t feel like I was on a budget anymore.