When Lisa earns her much-deserved promotion, she wants to go out and celebrate with her boyfriend, Troy. At the restaurant, Lisa learns that Troy just wants to put on a façade and be the ‘man’—disrespecting her and her hard-earned role. But when he gives his number to a waitress, things take a turn, causing Lisa to embarrass Troy and walk out of their relationship.
It was meant to be a night of pure celebration. After six months at my new job, I had finally earned a significant promotion and was eager to share the joy with Troy, my boyfriend.
He suggested the new upscale restaurant in town, famous for its ambiance and gourmet menu.
“Let’s just get dressed and go out, Lisa,” he said. “We don’t do this very often, so let’s make the most of it.”
I had to agree; we rarely did this—we rarely decided to go out and indulge in anything.
“Fine,” I agreed. “A night out is exactly what we need.”
And I believed that we needed it. Mainly because, as much as I wanted to believe that Troy and I were supposed to last forever, I had begun to see some cracks in our relationship. Something just felt different.
I was happy in my job, but Troy wasn’t happy in his.
“I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me,” he said grimly one evening when he came over for salsa night.
Troy sat on the couch and dug his chips into the salsa and guacamole, complaining about work the entire evening.
It was because of his moods regarding work that I didn’t tell him anything good about my job.
“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, handing him a frozen margarita. “You just started there a few months ago.”
“Lisa, please,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand. Let me be.”
But when I had gotten news of this new promotion, there was no way that I was going to keep it to myself. I wanted to celebrate and be celebrated, and I hoped that Troy would want to do just that.
To my surprise, he seemed really excited about it, and he told me that he was proud of me.
“Really, babe,” he said when he came over to my apartment to pick me up. “This is a big deal, and I’m proud of you.”
The evening started beautifully. Troy showed up with a bouquet of flowers, and he sat down and waited while I got ready. Usually, he wasn’t pleased if I was still getting ready when he arrived, but this evening was different.
“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”
Troy put his phone away and stood up, leading the way out of my apartment to where his car was waiting for us.
We drove in silence, but for once, the silence wasn’t tense—it was peaceful, and I felt that maybe Troy was changing. That he was becoming someone who wanted to be here and be present with me.
The soft lighting and the stunning view of the city skyline from our table set a romantic backdrop for our evening. We toasted to my success, with Troy raising his glass of champagne high.
“To the most amazing woman I know,” Troy cheered, clinking his glass against mine. “And to many more successes to come.”
“To us and to the future!” I echoed, suddenly caught up in the moment.
We went through the menu and ordered our meals while Troy spoke about the shared dreams that we had—from the Bali holiday that we had been speaking about for a long time, to wanting to move in together soon.
“I just think it’s time,” Troy said. “And now that you have your promotion, it will be much easier for us.”
Everything went along well, until the waitress brought our food over. Troy kept glancing at her, hoping to catch her eye—he winked at her twice.
I didn’t want to make a scene about it—Troy did this whenever he had something to drink. He behaved as though being a flirt was second nature.
But then, as we neared the end of our meal, I noticed a change in Troy. His usual easy smile tightened when the check was brought to our table. He smiled at the waitress as she stepped aside.
“You should let me pay with your card,” he said, a strain of insistence in his voice.
I was surprised. On the one hand, I didn’t mind paying for the dinner because it was my promotion and I was making a lot more money than I had before. But at the same time, I had also hoped that Troy would want to spoil me for the night.
“Why can’t you use your own card?” I asked, surprised by the frown on his face.
Troy’s irritation was barely concealed.
“Clearly because you’re the one who got promoted, and I don’t have enough money for these fancy dinners, Lisa! You know that, and yet you act like you don’t.”
I was confused by his logic.
“I’ll just pay with my card,” I said, putting my handbag on the table. “It’s not a big deal.”
My boyfriend’s face hardened as he took a sip of his whiskey—he had switched from champagne halfway through the meal.
“It’s embarrassing, Lisa,” he said. “It’s like you’re actually trying to humiliate me by not letting me be the man who pays.”
I didn’t know how to react to Troy’s words. It didn’t make sense to me. And I couldn’t understand what the waitress had to do with who was paying for our meal.
I would have retaliated and stood up for myself, but I could feel my energy being drained by Troy.
I felt cornered. And because I wanted to avoid making a scene, I reluctantly handed over my card.
Troy smirked and picked up my card, signaling for the waitress with an exaggerated flourish, presenting my card as if he were performing a grand gesture.
“I’ll be right back with the card machine,” the waitress said.
Feeling uneasy, I excused myself to the restroom. I just needed a moment to be myself. Troy did this all the time. But I thought that the evening was going well and that he was changing.
Of course, I was wrong.
Before thinking it through, I pulled my phone out and logged onto my banking app. With a few swipes and clicks, I had blocked my card.
Let’s see him pay now, I thought to myself.
On my way back, I paused near the bar, my attention caught by Troy’s laughter from across the room.
He was flirting openly with the waitress, scribbling something onto a napkin—presumably his phone number.
He handed it to her with a wink. I was stunned. I was hurt. A rush of indignation surged through me.
I returned to the table as the waitress spoke.
“I’m sorry, but there seems to be a problem,” she said. “Your card was declined.”
Troy’s confident façade crumbled as he stammered, turning away.
“What?” he asked. “Surely that can’t be right.”
Feigning concern, I suggested that Troy call the bank.
He sat back in his chair and pulled out his phone, dialing the bank and putting the call on speaker.
The representative asked for the card number, which Troy read off my card, followed by a request for the account password.
Finally, Troy hesitated. He was at a loss.
“Okay, Sir,” the person said through the phone. “If you can verify the last three transactions, it would help.”
The waitress hopped from one foot to the other.
“I can answer that,” I said. “A lavender-scented candle, some skincare products, and a new book. And Sir, the name on the card is Lisa Simmons.”
The waitress’s expression cleared with understanding, and Troy was left floundering for a response.
I then pulled out another card and paid the bill myself.
“Lucky I have two cards,” I told Troy and the waitress. “But babe, since you enjoyed the service, I think you can get the tip.”
Troy, red-faced, scrambled through his wallet, pulling out only expired coupons and a few small bills.
I stood up, waiting for Troy to say something—anything, but he sat there tight-lipped.
“Hey, I didn’t take his number,” the waitress said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I just threw the napkin away.”
“I’ll find my own way home,” I told Troy as I walked out into the night.
As I walked outside, I didn’t know if I had made a mistake. But at the end of the day, no relationship should make a person second guess themselves or make them feel like celebrating themselves is wrong.
Which is something that Troy did all the time.
I think I’m finally done with him.
What would you do?
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‘Outdated, punishing rules’ – Mom fights for son, 8, to keep his long hair despite schools rejecting him
We can all connect to school regulations, even though our recollections of school can be both happy and sad. It’s a turbulent time filled with highs and lows.
While some regulations, such as prohibiting jewelry during sporting events, make sense, it seems wasteful of resources and misses educational opportunities for the children engaged to send someone home with excessive makeup or because they brought in a particular soda.
Schools’ stringent policies on children’s appearance frequently conflict with the moments in their lives when they desire to stand out and express themselves.
These regulations may have gone too far for one mother and her kid and may have prevented an 8-year-old boy from receiving a quality education.
Model scouts are drawn to Farouk James of London, England, because of his gorgeous head of hair. He’s done photo sessions in Italy and New York and is currently employed as a child model.
However, his look has only caused problems for him in the classroom; because of the length of his hair, he has been turned down by several schools.
James’s mother, Bonnie Miller, claims that she was informed that her older brother’s hair was too short while he was in school.
According to Bonnie, Farouk’s father is from Ghana, and his parents didn’t cut his hair until he was three years old due to cultural customs.
Bonnie told CBS News, “At that point, he was attached— and so was I, to be honest— with his beautiful hair.” “We only retained the hair.”
The family resides in the UK, where the majority of schools have a regulation prohibiting boys from having long hair, even if girls are permitted to.
According to Bonnie, it is against children’s human rights to have them cut their hair.
His mother Bonnie posted on Instagram, saying, “I will not give up trying to persuade governments to put legislation in place to protect children from these outdated, punishing rules.”
“You reject Farok even though he hasn’t done anything wrong! When his friends are all admitted to the universities he so much wants to attend, he will have to say goodbye to them.
Bonnie even created a Change.org petition to outlaw hair prejudice in the United Kingdom as a result of this circumstance.
Bonnie declared, “We’re assembling a real team and dubbed it the Mane Generation.” “We will battle this until these regulations are altered. And it’s not limited to the United Kingdom; it’s worldwide.
With over a quarter of a million followers, Farouk’s mother runs an Instagram account that highlights his life as a playful boy and child model.
But even with all the love and support he receives on the internet, they continue to get hate mail. Following her discussion of the family’s effort to find a school that will accept Farouk and his hair on the well-known U.K. TV morning show “This Morning,” Bonnie claimed she received a lot of harsh feedback.
Bonnie remarked in May of last year, “This is mental health week, so I’m surprised to be receiving lots of negative comments about Farouk’s hair.”
“Farouk does not keep his hair long at my request, but it is a God-given aspect of him, and he will not cut it to please anyone.”
Bonnie contends that since many schools forbid braids and dreadlocks, the dress codes for boys and girls in schools are antiquated and occasionally discriminatory.
The mother promises that she will never give up on getting acceptance for Farouk, his hair, and all the other kids who face prejudice for wishing to show their identity and cultural background.
Farouk’s hair is an integral part of who he is, and in 2022, it will not be acceptable for those entrusted with our children’s education to reject a child because of the color of their hair. These regulations ought to be outlawed.
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