My Girlfriend Said, I’m Keeping The Apartment. You Can Crash With Your Parents After I Paid The Deposit And 10 Months Of Rent. I Replied Interesting Plan. Then I Called The Landlord, My Uncle And Explain The Situation. When She Got The 24 Hour Eviction, Notice Her Panicked Calls Revealed… 

 Original post, I, 29, male, am sitting in my apartment right now, the one my ex-girlfriend Melissa, 27, tried to steal from me yesterday. still processing everything that went down. But I need to get this off my chest. We’d been together for 2 and 1/2 years, living together for the last 14 months in this nice two-bedroom place downtown. When we first moved in, I paid the entire $3,200 deposit, plus first and last month’s rent because Melissa was between jobs. No big deal, I thought.

Couples help each other out, right? Fast forward to this past Tuesday. I come home from work to find Melissa and her best friend Natalie sitting in the living room with papers spread out on the coffee table. Melissa looks up at me with this weird smile. “We need to talk,” she says. I sit down and she launches into this whole speech about how we’ve grown apart and how she needs to find herself.

 “Standard breakup talk, whatever. I’m hurt but trying to stay calm.” Then she drops the real bomb. “I’m keeping the apartment,” she announces. You can crash with your parents for a while. I already talked to them and your mom said it’s fine. I literally laughed. Not a happy laugh, more like a Did you really just say that laugh? You’re keeping the apartment that I’ve been paying for? I asked.

 Well, I’ve been living here, too, she says. And I need stability right now. You have family nearby. I don’t. Here’s what she didn’t know. The landlord isn’t some random property management company. It’s my uncle Frank who owns several buildings in the area. The lease only my name is on it. Melissa was never added because when we moved in her credit was trash from defaulting on student loans.

 Interesting plan, I said standing up. Let me think about it. I went to the bedroom, closed the door, and called Uncle Frank. Update one. The next morning, Uncle Frank was, let’s say, unhappy when I explained the situation. She’s trying to kick you out of your own apartment. the one only you’re on the lease for. He actually laughed.

 Does she think that’s how rentals work? I explained that she’d been living there and probably thought that gave her some kind of rights. Frank shut that down quick. She’s not on the lease. Never was. She’s basically been your guest for 14 months. I can have an eviction notice drawn up immediately if you want her out.

 I told him to give me 24 hours to try handling it myself first. He agreed, but said if she gave me any trouble, he’d handle it the legal way. Wednesday morning, I tried talking to Melissa one more time. She was in the kitchen making breakfast like nothing happened, humming to herself. So, about yesterday, I started.

Oh, good. You’ve had time to process, she said, not even looking at me. When do you think you can be out? I was thinking by the weekend. The entitlement was astronomical. Melissa, you understand that I’m on the lease, right? Only me?” She waved her hand dismissively. “We can work that out with the landlord.

 I’m sure they’ll be reasonable.” “The landlord is my uncle.” She froze, spatula in hand. “You’re what? Uncle Frank owns the building. I’m the only one on the lease. You’ve been living here as my guest.” Her face went through about five different emotions in 3 seconds. That’s That’s not fair. I’ve been living here.

 I’ve made this my home. You’ve paid exactly $0 toward rent or deposit. I pointed out, “I buy groceries. I decorated.” I She was getting frantic. “You buy groceries maybe once a month with the credit card I gave you for emergencies,” I corrected. “And by decorated, you mean you hung up some pictures you got from HomeGoods using my credit card?” She started crying then.

 “Not sad tears, angry tears. You’re being financially abusive. This is manipulation.” That’s when I decided I was done trying to be nice. I texted Uncle Frank, “Go ahead with the notice. Update two. Thursday afternoon. The notice was served Thursday at 200 p.m. I was at work, but Melissa sure wasn’t. According to my neighbor Derek, who works from home, there was quite a scene.

 The process server knocked, handed her the papers, and Melissa lost it. Derek said she was screaming in the hallway about squatters rights and common law marriage. We don’t even live in a state that recognizes that, and even if we did, we wouldn’t qualify. My phone started blowing up around 2:15. What did you do? 24 hours? Are you insane? This is illegal. I have rights.

 I’m calling a lawyer. You can’t do this to me. Then Natalie started, “You’re seriously evicting her and her? What kind of man does that? She thought you loved her. This is abusive behavior.” Then came the call from Melissa’s mom, Patricia. I actually answered this one because I’d always liked Patricia. Dennis, she said she never could remember my name was David.

 What’s this about you throwing Melissa out? I explained the situation calmly. How Melissa had tried to kick me out of my own apartment. How she’d never paid rent. How she wasn’t on the lease. Patricia was quiet for a moment. Then she told me you two decided together that she would take the apartment. No, Patricia.

 She decided that and told me I could go live with my parents. Oh, another pause. That does sound like something she’d do. She did the same thing to her roommate in college. Wait, what? Turns out Melissa had a history of this. In college, she’d convinced her roommate to move out temporarily during finals week, then changed the locks and kept the dorm room to herself.

 The roommate had to get the university involved. “I thought she’d grown out of that,” Patricia said, sighing. I’ll talk to her. Update three. Friday morning. Friday morning rolled around and Melissa had apparently spent all night consulting with every legal expert she could find. Her Instagram stories were full of legal advice posts and know your rights infographics.

She confronted me at 7:00 a.m. with a printed stack of papers. According to these sources, I’m a tenant regardless of whether I’m on the lease. You need to give me 30 days notice minimum. I looked at her papers. They were all from different states. None from ours. Melissa, those are for actual tenants. You’re not a tenant.

 You’re a guest who’s overstayed their welcome. I get mail here. That makes me a tenant. You get mail here because you used my address without permission. The magazines you subscribe to with my credit card don’t make you a tenant. She tried another angle. I’ll call the police. They’ll side with me. Go ahead, I said.

 Uncle Frank had already prepared me for this possibility. She actually did it. Two officers showed up around 9:00 a.m. Melissa ran to the door, tears streaming. Officers, he’s trying to illegally evict me. I live here. The older cop looked tired already. Ma’am, are you on the lease? No. But have you been paying rent? Not technically, but has the legal tenant asked you to leave? She started sobbing harder.

 This isn’t fair. The younger cop looked at the eviction notice. This is from a licensed attorney properly served. Ma’am, you need to make arrangements to leave by. He checked his watch. 2 p.m. today. But where will I go? She wailed. That’s not his problem, ma’am. The older cop said, looking at me with something like sympathy.

 Sir, if she’s not out by 2 p.m., call us back. Update 4. The panic sets in. After the cops left, Melissa went into panic mode. The entitled attitude crumbled, replaced by desperate bargaining. David, please. Can we talk about this like adults? We tried that. You told me to move back with my parents. I was emotional. I didn’t mean it like that.

 How did you mean it then? She couldn’t answer that. By noon, she was making calls trying to find somewhere to stay. I heard her on the phone with Natalie. What do you mean you don’t have room? You have a whole couch. What about just for a few nights? This is an emergency. Then calling other friends. each conversation getting more desperate.

 Apparently, nobody wanted to take her in. Shocking considering how she treated people. At 12:30, she tried one last manipulation. If you kick me out, I’ll post everything on social media. Everyone will know what kind of person you are. Go ahead, I said. Make sure you include the part where you tried to steal my apartment after I paid for everything for over a year.

 She actually started typing up a post, showing it to me like a threat. About to be homeless because my ex is evil. Two years together meant nothing. Remember this when a man says he loves you. You might want to add the context. I suggested how you tried to kick me out of my own apartment that I pay for. She deleted the draft.

 Update 5:00 p.m. Uncle Frank showed up with two movers he’d hired. I want this done professionally, he told me. No room for her to claim we damaged anything. Melissa’s stuff wasn’t that much, honestly. Clothes, makeup, some books, her gaming setup that I bought her for Christmas. The movers had everything boxed and ready to go in under an hour.

“Where should we take it?” one mover asked. Melissa was sitting on the couch frantically texting. “I don’t know. I don’t have anywhere. Can you just leave it here until I figure it out?” “No,” Uncle Frank said firmly. You have 10 minutes to decide or we’re putting it in storage and you can pay to get it out.

She called Patricia. I could hear Patricia’s voice through the phone. I told you this would happen, Melissa. Your dad and I are in Florida for the month. Call your cousin Rita. Rita apparently lived an hour away and wasn’t happy about the situation, but agreed to let Melissa stay for a few days only. As the movers loaded her stuff into the truck, Melissa tried one more time.

You’re really going to do this? Throw me out like trash? I’m not throwing you out, I said. I’m enforcing the same boundary you tried to set that we need to live separately. You just assumed you’d be the one keeping the apartment I pay for. But I picked this place. I decorated it. It’s more mine than yours. You picked it from the three options I could afford.

 You decorated with my money. And no, living somewhere rent free doesn’t make it yours. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, then turned back. You’ll regret this. You’ll miss me and beg me to come back. I’ll miss who I thought you were, I admitted. Not who you actually are. Update 6. The aftermath calls. The calls started that evening. First was Natalie.

She’s at Rita’s crying her eyes out. How can you live with yourself? Pretty comfortably in my apartment that I pay for, I replied. You’re heartless. She loved you. She loved my wallet and free accommodation. When it came time to break up, her first move was trying to steal my home. She wasn’t stealing. She just thought she thought she could take advantage of me one more time.

 She thought wrong. Then came a call from a number I didn’t recognize. It was Melissa’s friend group on speaker. We just want you to know that we all think you’re disgusting, one voice said. For not letting my ex steal my apartment. for making a woman homeless. She’s not homeless. She’s at her cousins and she’s there because she tried to make me homeless.

 That’s different. You have support. So does she. Apparently, you all seem very concerned about her. I’m sure one of you will offer her a place to stay. Silence. Then they hung up. The best call came Saturday afternoon from Patricia. Dennis, I mean David, I wanted to apologize for Melissa. I just got the full story from Rita.

 No need to apologize, Patricia. No, there is. I raised her better than this. Or I thought I did. She told Rita you were abusive and controlling, but Rita’s smart. She asked questions and the story fell apart quick. What’s happening now? She’s worn out her welcome at Rita’s already. Apparently demanded Rita’s bedroom because the couch hurt her back.

Rita’s driving her to her father’s brother’s place tomorrow. He has a basement apartment, but she’ll need to pay rent. Will she? Patricia laughed, but it wasn’t happy. With what money? She hasn’t worked in 6 months. She told us you were supporting her while she figured out her career path. That was news to me.

 She told me she was doing freelance social media management. Update 7. The real truth comes out Sunday morning. I got a text from Derek, my neighbor. Bro, you need to see this. He sent me screenshots from a group chat he was somehow in. His girlfriend knew Natalie. The messages were from weeks ago. Melissa, operation apartment is almost ready.

 You really think he’ll just leave? He’s too nice to fight. I’ll cry, play victim, he’ll cave. Unknown number. What if he doesn’t? Then I’ll threaten to ruin his reputation. Say he was abusive. He’ll give me the apartment to avoid drama. Savage. Lol. He’s been paying for everything anyway. Might as well get a few more months free rent before I move on. Unknown. Move on.

Already talking to this guy. Victor has a beach house. Just need to secure this apartment first as backup. I sat there staring at my phone. She’d been planning this. The whole breakup, the apartment theft, everything was calculated. Dererick texted again. There’s more. She’s been seeing that Victor guy for 2 months.

 My girlfriend just told me 2 months while I was paying for everything, buying her gifts, planning our future, she was setting up my replacement and trying to steal my apartment as a backup plan. I forwarded everything to Patricia. Her response was immediate. Calling her now. This is unacceptable. An hour later, Melissa called from an unknown number.

 I almost didn’t answer, but curiosity won. You ruined everything. She screamed. My mom saw those messages. She’s cutting me off. Rita won’t talk to me. This is all your fault. I ruined your plan to steal my apartment and cheat on me. I wasn’t cheating. Victor is just a friend with a beach house. Silence.

 Melissa, you planned this. You thought I was too nice to stand up for myself. You were wrong. I’ll sue you for emotional distress, for illegal eviction, for for what? Making you face consequences. Good luck with that. She hung up. Final update. One week later. It’s been a week since Melissa was evicted. Here’s where everything stands.

 Melissa is currently couch surfing between distant relatives who are quickly getting tired of her. According to Patricia, she’s burned through three family members already by demanding special treatment and refusing to help with chores or contribute money. Victor, the guy with the beach house, ghosted her the moment she became too much drama.

 Apparently, he was only interested in a fun side thing, not a homeless girlfriend with baggage. Her friend group is fracturing. Some still support her, but others are starting to see the truth. Natalie actually reached out to apologize. I didn’t know about Victor or the planning. I thought she really loved you and was just confused.

 I’m sorry for attacking you. The apartment is peaceful now. I’ve changed the locks with Uncle Frank’s permission, reorganized everything the way I actually like it, and bought a new couch. The old one had too many memories. Uncle Frank told me something interesting. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this. Entitled people always think they’re smarter than everyone else.

 They never expect consequences. Patricia sent me one last text yesterday. David, she finally got my name right. Thank you for handling this the way you did. Melissa needs to learn she can’t manipulate people. She’s 27, not 17. It’s time she grew up. I’m sorry she put you through this. I’m not going to lie and say I’m completely over it.

 2 and 1/2 years is a long time. And finding out it was all a game to her hurts, but at least I found out now before marriage or kids made it complicated. The funny thing is, if she just asked to break up normally and given me time to figure out arrangements, I probably would have helped her find a place, maybe even helped with the deposit.

 But the entitlement, the assumption that she could just take what was mine, the planned manipulation that killed any sympathy I had. To anyone reading this, don’t let people take advantage of your kindness. When someone shows you who they really are, believe them. And always, always keep important documents and agreements in your name only until you’re married and maybe even then.

 My apartment is quiet now. My bank account is recovering. My dignity is intact. And Melissa, she’s learning that actions have consequences, even if it’s a lesson she should have learned a long time ago. Oh, and Derek told me this morning that Melissa tried to get into the building yesterday. She told the security door she forgot her key.

 The door camera caught her having a meltdown when she realized her access fob had been deactivated. Sometimes the best revenge isn’t elaborate. Sometimes it’s just letting someone face the natural consequences of their own entitlement. I’m done with this chapter. Time to move on.