I hope his therapist is helping him work through his fear of putting the toilet seat down.
Now, about that mattress. Ah, yes, the one with built-in cup holders. That was Matt’s dream purchase for his “gaming nights.” I’m sure the upgrade has been worth it.
And the meal planning course?
Wow. I didn’t realize it took professional training to understand that vegetables are good for you. Perhaps I should’ve hired a life coach to teach him how to load a dishwasher properly.
But since we’re discussing expenses, I’ve compiled my own counter-invoice for you:
$10,000 for managing all household responsibilities while Matt played video games for five years.
$15,000 for emotional labor, including constantly reminding him to call his mom, go to the dentist, and pay his bills.
$5,000 for lost brain cells from listening to his business ideas — like that app that matches people by their favorite pizza toppings.
Total: $30,000.
Payable in full by next Friday.
Warm regards,
Your predecessor
I hit send, but I wasn’t done yet.
Just for fun, I CC’d a few mutual friends.
Within hours, my phone started blowing up with calls and messages.
“Emma, this is legendary.” “I’m framing this and hanging it in my kitchen!”
Stephanie, of course, wasn’t thrilled. She tried to explain herself, but the more she talked, the worse she sounded. She claimed she was only trying to “set things right” and ensure Matt wasn’t “left with baggage from his past.”
Eventually, Matt called me.
“Emma… I’m sorry,” he said, sighing into the phone.
“I had no idea she’d do that.”
It was the first apology I’d ever received from him.
“Matt,” I replied, “it’s fine. Just make sure you pay that invoice.”
The cherry on top? At a mutual friend’s party a few weeks later, someone asked Matt if he ever paid me back for the “emotional labor.”
He turned bright red and left the party early.
Now, whenever Stephanie’s name comes up, someone inevitably says, “Oh, you mean the one with the bill?”
And honestly?
I regret nothing.
Do you have any opinions on this?
