At our engagement banquet, my fiancée—clearly drunk—sent a ninety-nine dollar pocket money in the group chat and tagged me with a "Happy Birthday."
Since my birthday was coming up in a few days, I accepted it without thinking much.
Everyone took it as a sweet display of affection—the atmosphere in the private room was lively, filled with teasing and laughter.
But then, a man suddenly showed up, looking aggrieved.
"Wayne," he said, "that birthday pocket money from Jordyn was meant for me. She promised she'd send me 9,999 dollars, but I think her fingers slipped and she only sent ninety nine. Could you send it back?"
The room fell dead silent.
Only then did I realize... maybe Jordyn mistook me for her childhood sweetheart because we had similar profile pictures.
Trying to be generous, I sent Garrett a hundred dollars—added an extra dollar for the trouble—and even ordered a cake to apologize and send my best wishes.
But when Jordyn sobered up and saw the cake, she smashed it on the spot and screamed at me, "Wayne! Are you that desperate for money? You had the nerve to steal a measly ninety nine dollars?!"
"Good thing I was drunk and only sent ninety nine—if it had been 9,999, you'd probably crawl through the internet like a rabid dog just to get it!”
I calmly explained it was a misunderstanding. I had even returned the pocket money—with a one-dollar bonus.
However, instead of calming down, Jordyn hurled a coin at my face, shouting that she wanted to break off the engagement. She even demanded I return every cent she had ever spent on me and give Garrett the full 99,999 dollars she originally intended as a birthday gift.
I sent her a meme of a “one billion dollars” check and said mockingly, "Fine! Let’s break off the engagement. Here’s a billion—wishing you two a lifetime of joy and children!"
She thought I was trying to weasel out of the situation, so she brought in her top-tier lawyer to settle the financial score.
When everything was calculated down to the last cent, her face turned green.
——
"Wayne, what’s the meaning of this? Sending a meme instead of real money? Are you trying to humiliate me?"
It was supposed to be a happy occasion, and now it has turned into a farce. I was burning with anger, but I still tried to keep things civil.
"You tagged the wrong person, I accepted by mistake. I figured you were just drunk and confused. I even bought a cake to apologize—if that’s not sincere enough, then what is? You're the one demanding I send one hundred thousand dollars to another man—honestly, I should be calling the police for attempted extortion."
"You've barely spent a thousand dollars on me altogether, but you and I both know how much I’ve spent on you. I’m not even asking for it back. Just do me a favor and take your beloved Garrett and get out of my sight!"
But Jordyn refused to believe she had only spent a thousand dollars on me.
She whipped out her phone, logged into her shopping app, and began scrolling through the orders one by one.
"Wayne, since you want to act shameless, don’t blame me for being harsh!"
"Setting aside all the help I gave you before, just look at these purchases. Ever since I gave you access to my account, you spent five hundred thousand dollars in just half a month!"
"You must be used to leeching off others—now you’re even eyeing Garrett’s birthday money! I thought you were thrifty and hardworking, but it was all a damn act! You’re so obsessed with money, you’ve thrown away every shred of dignity, haven’t you?"
Before I could even respond, she passed her phone around to her friends.
Gasps echoed through the room as everyone stared at me like I was some monster.
"Wayne," someone muttered, "with spending habits like this, you’re basically a gold-devouring beast!"
I grabbed the phone, skimmed through the list, and pointed straight at the two most recent orders.
"These two—29.9 dollars each—are the only ones I bought. And they were for Jordyn herself. Everything else has nothing to do with me."
But Jordyn just scoffed like I had told the joke of the year.
"Wayne, I didn’t expect you to be this shameless. I gave you my account, the purchases were all men’s items, and the shipping address was your apartment. If you didn’t buy them, who did—ghosts?"
"I pitied your hard life, so I didn’t care about the money before. But now you’re even trying to snatch Garrett’s ninety nine dollars birthday gift? Do you have no shame at all?"
