I spent over £75,000 on him – then he cheated

Sitting at my kitchen table, looking over my credit card statement, I noticed a payment for Tom’s* phone bill. My ex-partner.

Scanning the page, I saw a monthly payment for a laptop I bought for him. Then a gym membership. 

That’s when I started calculating and I realised that I’d spent over £75,000 on Tom throughout our five-year relationship. And he repaid me with the worst betrayal.

I met Tom in early 2019, while we were both working in a pub. We’d have the same shifts and had the same banter. So we developed the same mates after work too. We made things official in May. He doted on me, cooking, cleaning, making me feel special.

Within three months, we had moved in together, set up a joint account, and were splitting the rent equally, which came to roughly £500 each.

But then Tom lost his job that October. He was unsure about what he wanted to do, and I wanted to support him while he figured it out. I picked up all the rent, utility bills, food and social outgoings – averaging around £1,200 pm. 

I was working full time, living paycheck to paycheck without any offer from Tom to pay back. 

We moved in with my parents – rent-free – in August 2020 as our lease was over, it was during Covid and Tom was still struggling to get a job after nine months, so I continued to support us both. 

I even paid for his phone contract (£50 per month) and a new laptop (which had repayments of £600 a month). I’m not sure why I agreed, he wasn’t grateful and I can’t remember an offer to pay me back.

Soon, I started giving him money for nights out with his friends – around £150 per night out. My parents even chipped in, paying for a block of 10 driving lessons to try and give him a fresh start. 

He wasn’t grateful and I can’t remember an offer to pay me back

Over time, every holiday was more or less paid for by me. We went to Turkey which cost around £2,000, and weekends away in the UK, all of which I paid for and he never once offered to pay me back.

Although he got a job in 2021, this was only after me threatening to break up with him if he didn’t. At this point, paying for everything was tiring, but it just felt routine at this point.  

I didn’t question it because I wanted to believe we were building a future together. I was scared to rock the boat by bringing it up. I’ve never liked confrontation and lacked confidence.

A couple of years into the relationship, we moved up north because we craved fresh scenery and new jobs. He got a new office job and we were splitting rent and bills 50/50. 

Then came a woman from his workplace that he started spending a lot of time with both inside and outside of work. I asked questions and asked him to stop texting and calling her so much, but he insisted they were just friends.

One day, acting on instinct, I read his journal. In it, he had written: ‘I think I love her.’

I confronted him, and he told me everything. He said he regretted it and he didn’t want to be with her – and I thought we could work through it. 

Tom quit the job and got a new one immediately and never spoke or saw her again. He made an effort and did everything I asked, which made me feel like maybe we could still make it. 

I was constantly being told he was sorry and that he wanted to fix it. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. 

Eventually, I left. I went home for the weekend and realised I needed to be without him for a while. It hurt too much to be around him. At this point we’d been together just over five years.

I moved back home, broken-hearted and broke. Although I managed to avoid falling into serious debt from the money I ‘loaned’ Tom, there was £1,000 at this point on my credit card to be paid off.  

It wasn’t until I was removed from the chaos that I started tallying up everything I’d spent. Old bank statements, direct debits, subscriptions such as Netflix, Spotify, his phone bill still in my name – everything added up alarmingly fast.

Over £75,000. That’s a house deposit. A life-changing sum. 

Looking back, I think the financial dependency crept in so slowly that I didn’t notice. I had rationalised it – this is what couples do, right? 

Now, I believe financial openness is just as important in a relationship as emotional vulnerability. Conversations about finances might feel unromantic, but they’re necessary.  

The financial dependency crept in so slowly that I didn’t notice

We had the ‘money talk’ way too late, a year into the relationship. When he finally got a job in 2021, he started paying me £600 for around six months but this stopped as he felt it was unfair. Money was a sore topic and not spoken about often.

I know I’m not alone in shying away from talking about money – just under half of UK couples wait until moving in together and 4% put it off until a major milestone like an engagement or a baby according to research by online bank, bunq.  

I have learnt to look out for the financial warning signs: always having an excuse for why they can’t afford things, always shying away from honest conversations and downplaying the financial inequality.  

In the future, I’ll be taking things much slower. No joint accounts. No covering rent or bills. I’ll be keeping things separate until there’s true commitment like marriage, or at least years of trust built up.

Today, I’m starting to feel hopeful again. I’ve just started the process of buying my first house, all on my own.

It’s taken work to recover from investing £75,000 into a future that no longer exists, but I’ve done it.

Now I can safely say that my money is exactly that – mine.  

*Names have been changed

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