She said, "I deserve a push present even though we don't have kids yet for our anniversary."😡

She said, "I deserve a push present even though we don't have kids yet for our anniversary." I said, "You're right." I pushed her out of my life?
We're at this steakhouse she'd been begging to try for months. Three-year anniversary. I got her a $200 leather journal with her initials embossed—she loves writing, always talking about starting that novel.
Mid-dinner, she keeps checking her phone, smiling at the screen. I figure she's just sharing photos with friends. Then she puts it down and looks at me.
"So where's my REAL gift?"
"The journal? It's in the car, wrapped—"
"No, silly. My push present."
I actually choke on my wine. "Your WHAT?"
"My push present. For everything I've pushed through this year."
"Push presents are for women who've given birth. You know, pushed out an actual baby?"
She rolls her eyes like I'm the complete idiot here. "That's so outdated, babe. Modern push presents are for any major life accomplishment. And I've been pushing through SO much."
"Like what exactly?"
"Um, hello? I got promoted to senior account coordinator. I've been dealing with your mother's passive-aggressive comments. I reorganized our ENTIRE apartment. I deserve recognition."
The entitlement is astronomical. I'm just sitting there trying to process this new level of delusion.
"Those are just... normal life things. Adult responsibilities."
"See, this is your problem. You don't appreciate what I bring to this relationship. Kelsey's boyfriend got her a push present just for completing yoga teacher training."
Then she shows me her phone. A $4,500 Cartier bracelet saved in her cart.
"You want five thousand dollars for getting promoted at your own job?"
"It's called investing in us. If you can't see my worth—"
"You're absolutely right."
Her face lights up completely. "Really?"
"You deserve a push present."
That night, I start planning. She wants to be pushed? Fine.
Next morning, she's already calling the jewelry store to confirm they have it in stock. The assumption that I'd just cave is breathtaking.
I play along. "Actually, I want to surprise you with something even better. Give me a few days."
Her eyes go wide. "Really? Is it the matching earrings too?"
Jesus Christ.
While she's at work, I document everything. She's borrowed money constantly. Fifty bucks for Ubers, two hundred for work dresses. Always "I'll pay you back." Never does. Total she owes me: $3,847.
Then the bills. We agreed on 50/50 when she moved in, except I've been covering 80% for eight months straight. Every month, some emergency. Car needs new tires, her mom needs help, credit card got hacked. Always something.
I organize it all into a spreadsheet. Every ignored Venmo request, every "I'll get you back" text, every dodged bill. The evidence is overwhelming.
Saturday morning comes. She went out Friday night pre-celebrating with friends. Perfect timing.
I pack all her stuff—not dramatically, methodically. Everything neatly in suitcases by the door. Then I buy a Cartier-style gift box. Inside: her apartment key she needs to return to the landlord, and a printed receipt.
"One push present delivered. Item: Reality check. Value: Priceless. Description: Pushed one entitled partner out of enabled lifestyle. Status: Complete."
Set it on top of her luggage.
She stumbles in at 2 a.m., drunk and giggly. Whispers "Can't wait for tomorrow, baby" before passing out.
Morning. I'm up at seven with coffee. She stumbles out around ten.
"Is it time? Is it time for my present?"
"It's by the door."
She practically runs over. Then stops. Stares at her packed bags. Picks up the gift box with shaking hands.
"What... what IS this?"
"Your push present. I pushed you out. You're done here."
Instant meltdown. Tears, screaming, accusations flying. The neighbors definitely heard everything.
"You can't DO this! This is OUR home!"
"No, it's MY apartment. You're not on the lease. Check the papers—you owe me nearly four grand."
She throws them at me. "You KEPT TRACK? That's psychotic!"
"That's called accounting. Adults do it."
She calls her mom on speaker for maximum guilt impact. Mom threatens me with tenant laws. I tell her to call the cops, explain her daughter demanded a push present without pushing out a baby.
She hangs up.
"You have two hours to get your stuff out."
"TWO HOURS?"
"One hour fifty-eight minutes now."
Her best friend Kelsey arrives with a pickup truck, shooting me death glares while loading boxes.
As they drive away, she screams out the window: "You'll regret this! No one will ever love you like I did!"
"God, I hope not."

Видео She said, "I deserve a push present even though we don't have kids yet for our anniversary."😡 канала MummyTales