More accurately, he explained that living together would be more convenient—and much cheaper for both of them.
Claire owned a two-bedroom apartment. She had bought it several years before meeting him. She had started saving while she was still in college. Her parents had later helped with part of the purchase, and Claire had paid off the rest herself.
By the time Ryan moved in, the apartment was fully furnished.
The living room had a comfortable sofa and a large television. The kitchen had a refrigerator, decent cabinets, all the necessary appliances, and enough dishes for a family. There was a washing machine in the bathroom. Claire had bought bedding, household supplies, and even an expensive vacuum cleaner after debating that purchase for months.
Ryan arrived with two suitcases.
One was filled with clothes. The other contained athletic shoes, documents, chargers, a pair of dumbbells, and an old game console.
Claire joked that her future husband had moved in almost empty-handed.
Ryan smiled and said there was no reason for a real man to transport half a household when his woman already had everything.
At first, there were no major problems.
Ryan occasionally bought groceries, sometimes paid the internet bill, and every now and then ordered dinner for both of them.
Gradually, though, the financial arrangement began to take on a very strange shape.
Ryan received his salary regularly. Yet every month, something urgent required money for the car.
First, he needed new tires. Then he wanted a better stereo. After that, the paint had to be polished, the floor mats replaced, or the oil changed with a more expensive brand.
Soon there were additional expenses connected with the gym.
Ryan joined an upscale fitness club, paid for private training sessions, and constantly bought protein supplements.
On Fridays, he usually went out with friends. On Sundays, he visited his brother, where the two men ordered large meals, drank beer, and watched football.
Claire handled the household groceries.
She paid the utility bills too.
Coffee, shampoo, laundry detergent, toilet paper, dishwasher pods, drinking-water filters—everything came out of her account.
Ryan sincerely considered those expenses insignificant.
One evening, Claire decided to discuss the situation calmly.
“Ryan, can we at least split the grocery costs?”
“Why? You place the orders anyway.”
“Who clicks the button doesn’t matter. I’m the one paying.”
“You earn more than I do.”
“I earn more because I work ten-hour days and take on extra projects.”
“So what am I supposed to do, feel inadequate?”
“I’m not asking you to feel bad about your income. I’m asking you to contribute to the expenses we share.”
Ryan spent the rest of the evening sulking.
The next day, he did buy about five hundred dollars’ worth of groceries. For the following two weeks, however, he reminded Claire repeatedly how generously he had stocked their home.
Little by little, she noticed another strange pattern.
Claire herself ate very modestly at home. In the morning, she usually had coffee and cottage cheese. She ate lunch during her work break. In the evening, she might have soup or a light salad.
Yet the refrigerator emptied as if a large family lived there.
Ryan had an enormous appetite, especially after working out.
He ate meat, eggs, cheese, yogurt, and nuts. He also needed expensive protein bars on a regular basis.
He expected Claire to add those to her grocery orders too, arguing that since she was already ordering delivery, a few extra items made no difference.
Claire was irritated, but she kept putting up with it.
She was twenty-eight. Their relationship had already lasted three years. Somewhere deep inside, she still hoped that one day she and Ryan would have an adult conversation, that she could explain the most basic facts of shared life, and that he would finally understand.
But Ryan had no desire to change anything.
The arrangement suited him perfectly.
That became especially clear during the last two months.
In June, Claire’s washing machine finally stopped working.
A repairman inspected it and told her that fixing it would cost nearly half as much as buying a new one.
Claire decided not to waste money on repairs.
She chose a reliable model, arranged delivery, and paid for it herself.
When Ryan came home that evening, he examined the new machine for a while.
“It looks fine,” he said. “Although you should have bought one with a dryer.”
“Those cost several hundred dollars more.”
“So? We only live once.”
“Then you could have paid the difference if you wanted a dryer so badly.”
Ryan immediately frowned.
“For your information, I’m saving for new wheels.”
The conversation ended with his usual accusation.
Claire was too calculating. Too materialistic.
Ryan never noticed the contradiction. In his mind, she was expected to buy whatever the household needed, while his income remained untouched because he had personal plans for it.
A few weeks later, Ryan asked to borrow fifteen hundred dollars until payday.