My girlfriend said, “I need access to your bank account for emergencies.” I said, “Of course.” I added her as a user to an account I’d opened with $7. Her face when she checked the balance at brunch. Original post. I, 32 male, have been with Miranda 29 for about 14 months. Things started great.
She was charming, beautiful, worked as a lifestyle consultant. Still not sure what that actually means. We moved in together after 8 months, which in retrospect was way too fast. The red flag started small. She’d forget her wallet when we went out. Her card would mysteriously decline at expensive restaurants. She’d need to borrow $200 here, $300 there for unexpected expenses.
Always promised to pay back. Never did. About 3 weeks ago, we were having dinner and she drops this on me. Miranda, babe, I’ve been thinking. We’re basically like a married couple now, right? I guess so. Yeah. So, I should have access to your bank account, you know, for emergencies. I nearly choked on my pasta. Emergencies, Miranda. Yeah.
Like, what if something happens to you? Or what if I need to pay for something important when you’re not around? You have your own bank account? She rolled her eyes. That’s not the point. Couples share everything. It’s about trust. Here’s the thing. I make decent money as a software developer, about 85k a year. Not rich, but comfortable.
Miranda’s lifestyle consulting brings in maybe $1,500 a month when she actually has clients. Me? Let me think about it. Think about it. Wow. After everything I’ve done for this relationship, you need to think about trusting me. The guilt trip was Olympic level. She went on for 20 minutes about how her ex gave her full access to everything.
how real couples don’t have secrets. How maybe I wasn’t as serious about us as she thought. I looked at her, really looked at her. The entitlement, the manipulation, the assumption that my money was somehow already hers. Me: You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. Her face lit up. Really? Yeah. True couples share everything.
I’ll add you to my account tomorrow. She literally squealled and kissed me. I knew you’d come around. This is why I love you. That night, I opened a new checking account online, deposited $7. The minimum to avoid fees was five, so I splurged. Update one. The next morning, I told Miranda I had to go to the bank in person to add her since she wasn’t married to me.
Total lie, but she bought it. Went to the bank, added her as an authorized user on my brand new $7 account. Got her a debit card, and everything. The banker’s face when I explained what I was doing was priceless. Dude actually fistbumped me on my way out. Came home with the card and the paperwork. Me: Here you go, babe.
You now have full access to my bank account. Miranda grabbed the card like it was made of gold. This is amazing. We’re really doing this adult thing, right? Me? Absolutely. Oh, and we’re having brunch with my sister tomorrow. She wants to celebrate our next step. Perfect. I’ll wear that new dress I bought last week. The dress she bought with money she borrowed from me for car repairs. Sure.
Saturday morning we met my sister Natalie at this upscale brunch place. Miranda loved the kind where they charge $18 for eggs and call them artisal. Miranda was glowing. Couldn’t wait to tell Natalie about our financial partnership. Your brother finally realized what being in a real relationship means. We’re sharing everything now.
Natalie, who was in on it? Wow, that’s big. You must be so happy. I am actually. Let me get this check. Time to break in the new card. She handed the server her new debit card with a flourish. The server ran it, came back looking confused. Server, I’m sorry, ma’am, but this card was declined. Miranda’s face went red. That’s impossible. Run it again.
Server ran it again. It’s showing insufficient funds. Miranda turned to me, confused and getting angry. What’s going on, me? Oh, let me check the app. I pulled out my phone, logged into the account. Hm, that’s weird. Balance is showing $7 all $7. Yeah, that’s my bank account balance. The one you wanted access to.
The silence was deafening. Natalie was trying so hard not to laugh. She was turning purple. This is a joke, right? Where’s your real account? This is my real account. My checking account. But But you make good money. Me? I do. And it goes into my savings, my 401k, my investment portfolio, my crypto wallet. You said you wanted access to my bank account.
This is my bank account, the one I use for daily expenses. Her face went from red to white to red again. You think this is funny? Me? I think it’s exactly what you asked for. Update two. Miranda stormed out of the restaurant, left me with the $85 brunch bill, which I paid with my actual debit card. Natalie finally let out the laugh she’d been holding. Natalie, her face.
Oh my god, her face. Got home to find Miranda rage packing her stuff. You humiliated me in public in front of your sister. I gave you exactly what you asked for. You know what I meant? I meant your real money. Oh, you mean you wanted access to all my money? Why didn’t you just say so? This is financial abuse. I laughed.
Actually laughed. Not giving you unlimited access to my savings is abuse. That’s a new one. She called her best friend, Alexis, to come pick her up. While waiting, she tried every manipulation in the book. I thought you loved me. My ex would never treat me like this. You’ll never find anyone who loves you like I do.
I gave you the best years of my life. It had been 14 months. Alexis arrived and immediately started in on me, too. Alexis, you’re seriously going to let her leave over money? That’s so shallow. Me. She’s leaving because I won’t give her unrestricted access to my savings after barely a year of dating.
Real men provide for their women. Me. Real women don’t demand access to money they didn’t earn. Miranda grabbed the debit card from her purse and threw it at me. Here’s your stupid card. I hope that $7 keeps you warm at night. Actually, with you gone, I’ll save enough on dinner bills to keep pretty warm. They left with Miranda screaming about how I’d regret this. Spoiler, I didn’t.
Update three. The next few days were a tsunami of crazy. Sunday, Miranda called me 23 times. Texts ranged from, “I’m sorry. Let’s talk to you’re a sociopath to please, I love you.” Monday, she showed up at my work. Security wouldn’t let her in. Badge access buildings are great.
She stood outside for 2 hours holding a sign that said, “Real men share.” My co-workers thought it was hilarious. Someone took a picture that became a meme on our Slack. Tuesday, I get a Venmo request from her for $3,847. The description for emotional labor and household contributions. I declined and countered with a request for $4,200 for 14 months of dinners, loans, and therapy I’ll need after this relationship.
She declined. Wednesday, her mom called. This woman I’d met exactly twice starts lecturing me about doing right by her daughter. Her mom Miranda tells me you’re withholding financial support. Me: We’re not married. We don’t have kids. She’s not entitled to my money. Her mom. She moved in with you. She gave up opportunities for you.
Me: What opportunities? She works 10 hours a week. Her mom, she’s an entrepreneur. You should be supporting her dreams. Her dream appears to be accessing my bank account. She hung up. Thursday, the nuclear option. Miranda sent a group text to all our mutual friends with screenshots of our texts, but edited to make it look like I’d promised to support her financially and then reagged.
What she didn’t realize, I’d been screenshotting everything, too, including her original texts demanding access to my account to buy whatever I want without asking. And because Alexis’s boyfriend gives her his credit card, I replied all with the full conversation. The group chat exploded. Our friend Derek Lmao Miranda, you really thought you could edit receipts? Another friend.
Girl, you’ve been dating for a year and wanted full access to his accounts. The group chat died after that. Friday, I came home to find some of my stuff on the lawn. Nothing valuable. Old T-shirts, a broken Xbox controller, some DVDs, but she’d clearly still had a key. Called a locksmith immediately. While he was changing the locks, I noticed something.
My spare bedroom looked off. Opened the closet. She’d taken my Nintendo Switch, my iPad, and about $300 in cash I kept in my dresser for emergencies. I texted her. I have security cameras. Return my stuff in 24 hours or I file a police report. I don’t know what you’re talking about. The cameras that sync to the cloud say otherwise.
I didn’t have cameras, but she didn’t know that. Update 4. Saturday morning. My stuff appeared on my doorstep along with a note. You’re a disgusting person who doesn’t understand love. Those things were basically mine anyway since I lived there. I hope you’re happy with your $7 and your lonely life. P.S. I was sleeping with Brian for the last 2 months anyway.
Brian was her client, the one who always needed evening consultations. Not going to lie, that stung for about 5 seconds. Then I realized she just admitted to cheating in writing. Sent the note to Alexis with, “Your bestie might want to get tested.” The explosion was immediate. Turns out Brian was Alexis’s ex-boyfriend who Miranda knew Alexis was trying to get back with.
Alexis called me screaming, but not at me. She wanted all the details. Sent her everything. The friendship imploded spectacularly, but Miranda wasn’t done. Oh no. Sunday night, I get a call from my landlord. Miranda had called him claiming to be my wife, saying I was abusing her and she needed to be added to the lease for her protection.
Landlord, I told her that without proof of marriage or a court order, I couldn’t do anything. She threatened to sue me. Me: I’m so sorry about this. We broke up and she’s not handling it well. Landlord, no worries, but you might want to get a restraining order. She seemed unstable. Monday came with a new low. Miranda created a fake dating profile using my photos and info but listing my income as 200K plus and saying I was looking for a woman to spoil with unlimited shopping sprees. My inbox exploded.
I reported the profile but not before screenshotting everything. Then came Tuesday, the masterpiece of entitlement. I get served with papers. Miranda was taking me to small claims court for what? Breach of verbal contract. $5,000. Emotional distress, $2,500. Lost wages due to relationship duties, $3,000. Total, $10,500.
Her evidence, text messages, where I said things like, “I’ll take care of you and don’t worry about money.” You know, normal relationship stuff that doesn’t constitute a legal contract. Date five, court day arrived 2 weeks later. I showed up in a suit with a folder of evidence. Miranda showed up in what I can only describe as her courtroom costume.
Glasses she doesn’t need a conservative dress I’d never seen. Hair in a bun. Going for that wronged woman look. The judge read through her complaint. I could see him trying not to roll his eyes. Judge, Miss Miranda, you’re claiming breach of verbal contract. Can you explain? Your honor, he promised to share everything with me. He said we were like a married couple.
Then he humiliated me by giving me access to an account with only $7. Were you married? No. But did you have a written agreement? No. But he said, “Miss Miranda, I’ll take care of you is not a legally binding contract. It’s something people say in relationships.” But I have expenses. I quit my job for him. Your honor, I have evidence she’s still employed.
Here are screenshots from her Instagram posted yesterday about a client consultation. The judge looked at the screenshots then at Miranda. You said you quit your job. Well, I reduced my hours. From what to what? I I don’t have exact numbers. The judge moved on to her emotional distress claim. This was even better. What specific emotional distress did you suffer? He embarrassed me at brunch.
My friend was there. Did he force you to use the card? No. But did he tell you there was more money in the account than there was? But I assumed. Assumptions aren’t his responsibility. Finally, the lost wages claim. You’re claiming $3,000 in lost wages. Can you show proof of income before the relationship enduring? I don’t have exact records, but I was making at least $5,000 a month before.
Your honor, I have her lease application from 18 months ago where she listed her income as $1,200 monthly. The judge looked at it, looked at her, looked back at the papers. Judge Miss Miranda lying in court is perjury. Miranda started crying. Not pretty tears. Angry, frustrated tears. This isn’t fair. He has money. He should share it with me.
I was going to be his wife. Were you engaged? We were going to be. That’s not the same thing. Case dismissed. Miss Miranda, you owe the defendant court costs of $75. The look on her face, the absolute shock that she’d have to pay money instead of getting it. As we left the courthouse, she tried one more time.
You could have just given me access. None of this had to happen. You’re right. None of this had to happen. You could have just not been a gold digger. She started to respond, but Alexis, who’d come to watch the show, grabbed her arm. Alexis, girl, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself. Also, Brian gave me chlamydia, so thanks for that.
Final update. It’s been 2 months now. Life is beautifully quiet, but I did get some closure on the whole saga through the grapevine. Miranda apparently tried the same thing with her next boyfriend. Demanded access to his accounts after 3 weeks of dating. He laughed in her face and blocked her immediately.
Word got around her social circle. She’s become somewhat of a cautionary tale. Her lifestyle consulting business tanked after Alexis told everyone about the Brian situation. Turns out sleeping with your best friend’s ex, who’s also a client, isn’t great for word of mouth marketing. Last I heard, she’d moved back in with her mom and was working retail.
Her mom called me once more trying to guilt me into helping Miranda get back on her feet. She’s an adult. She can get herself on her feet. Her mom, you ruined her life. She ruined her own life by assuming she was entitled to money she didn’t earn. She loved you. She loved my bank account. There’s a difference. Haven’t heard from them since the $7 account. I keep it open.
Added a few bucks here and there. It’s up to $23 now. I call it my gold digger detection account. Already came in handy when a woman I went on three dates with started hinting about financial transparency in relationships. Showed her the account, told her the whole story. She laughed and said, ” $7? That’s all.
” My ex did the same thing, but with $2. We’re still dating. She pays for her own meals. It’s refreshing. To everyone who messaged asking why I didn’t just say no to Miranda initially, I could have, but then I wouldn’t have proof of what she was really after. The $7 account exposed her true intentions better than any conversation could have.
Was it petty? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Absolutely. The best part, I ran into her friend Derek last week. He told me Miranda still tells people I’m financially abusive for not sharing my money with her. The same people then Google what financial abuse actually is and realized she’s full of it. My sister Natalie framed the screenshot of Miranda’s face when the card declined.
It’s hanging in her bathroom. She calls it modern art. Life lesson. When someone shows you they’re only interested in your money, believe them. And maybe give them access to exactly $7 just to watch their reaction. Edit: Since everyone’s asking, yes, the $7 is still there. No, I’m not accepting applications for access to it.
And yes, I did eventually get security cameras, not because of Miranda, but because my neighbor’s cat keeps stealing my Amazon packages. Different story. Edit two. To the person who DM’d saying I should have just been honest, I was completely honest. I gave her access to my bank account exactly as requested.
She just assumed I only had one account. That’s on her.
