My Girlfriend Said: “I Need Guys’ Attention For My Self-Esteem-It’s Not About You.” I Said: “Fair

The color drained from her face. She looked at the bill. She looked at me. I I that’s a mistake. Is it Is it a mistake that you used my social security number 6 months ago to open a line of credit for a storage unit, a unit that I now control. She just stared at me, no words. “You have 30 days to get your things and get out of my home.” I said.

“And we have an appointment with the police tomorrow morning to discuss your fraud.” She’s in her room. It’s silent, the first time in weeks. She’s not texting Nolan. She’s not calling Val. She’s just in there. I think for the first time she’s realized she’s not the one in control anymore. Final update. It’s been 32 days.

I’m writing this from my my living room. It’s quiet. I’m alone, and it’s over. The 30 days were the longest month of my life. It was a pressure cooker. After I confronted her with the eviction notice and the storage bill, Kira had a complete Hollywood-level meltdown. It wasn’t crying. It was shrieking. “You can’t do this.

You’re you’re trapping me. You’re stealing my things. That’s my stuff in that unit. You’re a thief.” “You’re a thief, Kira.” I replied, and went back to the spare room and locked the door. The next morning, I went to the police precinct. I filed a full report for identity theft, complete with my credit report, the storage unit bill, and a sworn statement.

The officer was very professional. He said an investigator would be in touch. When I got home, Kira had called in her cavalry, her friend Valerie. They were both waiting for me in the living room. “Reese, this has gone too far.” Valerie said, trying to sound authoritative. “You’re traumatizing her. You need to stop this this insane power trip.

I’m evicting a tenant who committed fraud against me. You need to leave my property, Valerie.” “He’s stealing my stuff, Val.” Kira sobbed. “My bags, my my furniture. He’s trying to ruin me.” And then they played their big, stupid card. “Valerie, we’re calling the police. We’re going to tell them you’re abusive, that you’re holding her property hostage.

He’ll make you give it back. Go for it, I said. Please, call them. So, they did. Kira, crying hysterically into the phone, claimed I was unstable, throwing her things out, and threatening her. Two officers showed up about 30 minutes later. They looked tired. Sir, we received a call about a domestic disturbance and a possible illegal eviction.

Kira ran to them. Officers, thank god. He’s He’s crazy. He locked me out of my storage unit. He’s stealing all my property. He’s throwing me out on the street. The older officer looked at me. Sir, what’s going on? I had my folder ready. Good afternoon, officers. This is my condo. I handed him a copy of my mortgage statement and my ID.

My name only. This is Ms. Kira’s last name. She’s been a tenant at will here for 18 months. This is a copy of the legal 30-day notice to vacate I served her 2 days ago. She’s not being thrown out today. The officer nodded, reading the paper. She’s claiming you’re stealing her property from storage unit. Ah, yes. That. I handed him the other folder.

This is a copy of a bill for a storage unit from RedDot Storage. As you can see, it is in my name, Reese my last name. This is a copy of my credit report showing the hard inquiry from 6 months ago. And this This is the police report I filed this morning for identity theft against Ms.

Kira’s last name for opening that account using my social security number without my knowledge or consent. I will treasure the look on that officer’s face for the rest of my life. He looked from the police report to Kira, back to the report. Ma’am, he said, his voice suddenly 10° colder. Are you claiming that Mr. My last name stole property from storage unit that is in his name? Kira, but but it’s my stuff inside. He’s He’s holding a hostage.

Officer, ma’am, the account is in his name. And he has a pending police report against you for opening that account fraudulently. Is that true? Did you use his information to open this account? She just went silent. Valerie tried to step in. He’s just being controlling. This is This is a civil matter.

Officer, ma’am, identity theft is a criminal matter. Right now, he pointed at Kira. Are the only one here who’s been accused of crime? This is a civil eviction, and he is following the law. Your property inside the unit is a civil dispute you’ll have to take to court. But he has no obligation to let a person who allegedly stole his identity have access to an account that is legally his.

Now, I suggest you and your friend, he looked at Valerie, leave. There is no domestic disturbance here. Kira crumpled. Valerie just looked stunned. They left. The cops gave me a good look, sir, look, and laugh, too. The next 28 days were quiet. Kira was a ghost. She was desperately trying to find money and a place to live. Nolan, predictably, was gone.

Vanished. Blocked her number, probably. The attention she needed so badly dried up the second it came with criminal charges and no financial perks. She got a call from the police investigator. I know because I heard her on the phone crying and saying, It was a misunderstanding. The revenge wasn’t some big, flashy thing.

It was slow, methodical, and legal. I gave her a deal drafted by Ms. Graves. I would agree to not press forward with the criminal charges for identity theft. In exchange, she would sign a legally binding separation agreement. This agreement stated that she forfeited all property in the storage unit as payment for the fraudulent use of my credit and a month of unpaid rent on the unit.

My lawyer said this was legally cleaner than trying to get the $900 back from her, which she didn’t have. She had to be out on the 30th day, no exceptions. She was trapped. She had no money for a lawyer. She was facing a felony charge. She could lose her stuff or or she could lose her freedom. She chose her freedom. On the 30th day, this past Tuesday, she moved out.

Her parents had to rent a van. They showed up. Her dad wouldn’t even look at me. Her mom just looked so sad. Kira tried one last time. “Reese,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I I’m sorry. I messed up. I was I was scared. I do need you. That attention stuff, it was just stupid. Please, don’t do this.” I just looked at her.

“It wasn’t stupid, Kira. It was a strategy. You needed my attention to be off you while you planned to rob me. You just miscalculated.” “Goodbye.” I close the door. I’m now in the process of clearing out that storage unit. I’m selling all of it. The velvet chair, the new TV, the designer bags. I’ve already made back the $900 in fees, plus my lawyer’s retainer.

The rest is just I don’t know, a bonus. The attention she needed so badly was just a symptom. The disease was entitlement. The disease was fraud. I feel stupid for falling for it. But I also feel strong. I didn’t yell. I didn’t beg. I just collected the data, called a lawyer, and executed the plan. I’m changing all my passwords and my locks, again, just in case.