I always believed I was in a healthy, loving relationship. But after reading a text exchange between my boyfriend and one of his friends, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Was I just a source of financial security for him? If he truly cared about me, why didn’t he stick up for me when his friend made a comment about me being “lucky” to have such a rich girlfriend?

I loved him wholeheartedly—so much that I put my own needs aside for him. But over time, I began to wonder if he was really with me for the right reasons. It felt like he was more interested in what I could offer than who I actually was.

He’s a smart, confident guy, always calm and composed. When we first met, I was immediately drawn to his self-assurance and maturity. He knew how to make me laugh and always made me feel like I was the most important person in the room. He made me feel special, and he would talk about a future together as if we were already set for the long haul.

But gradually, I started noticing some things that didn’t sit right with me.

He grew up in a family of four siblings, and he told me how his parents struggled to raise them. He worked hard to get through college, and when we met, he was working as a sales associate in an electronics store.

At first, everything seemed fine. But over time, he began making comments that raised red flags. He would compliment me on my career, telling me how smart and successful I was. And then he would joke, saying things like, “Well, if we get married, I won’t have to worry about anything.”

At first, I brushed it off as just a joke, but as time went on, I started to notice a pattern.

I come from a family with more financial stability—my parents are business owners, and I’ve worked my way up to earning about $1,200 a month after seven years of hard work. I recently got promoted to a managerial position. It seemed like my boyfriend was always mentioning my job or my financial situation, but never seemed to share much about his own ambitions or plans.

Things escalated when he asked me to help pay off a debt of about $800. I agreed without hesitation, wanting to help him out of love. But then it went further—he asked me to invest in his dream of opening a café. He told me that he’d always dreamed of it but didn’t have the funds to make it happen. I agreed, thinking I was supporting his ambitions.

But soon after, things started to get out of control. He quit his job to focus on the café, but I noticed he wasn’t really putting in much effort. He left most of the work to his employees, while he spent more time socializing and meeting up with friends. Every time I tried to talk to him about it, he’d reassure me, saying how proud he was of me and how lucky he was to have me.

The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t feel right. After three years together, I started questioning if he truly loved me—or if he just loved the comfort and security I could provide. So, I decided to confront him.

I asked him point-blank, “Do you really love me, or do you just see me as a safety net?”

He was silent for a while, and then he replied, “I do love you, but your financial situation does give me peace of mind.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew he wasn’t lying, but hearing that truth hurt more than I could’ve imagined.

Not long after that, I stumbled upon a text exchange on his phone between him and one of his friends. The friend said, “You’re lucky, man. You’ve got a girl who’s not only beautiful but loaded. You’ll be set for life with her.” And he replied with a laughing emoji, no denial in sight.

That was the moment everything clicked. I had been so blinded by love that I didn’t see the signs earlier. His actions, his comments—they were all pointing to one thing: he wasn’t in this relationship for the love, but for what I could give him.

Now, I’m standing at a crossroads. I still have feelings for him, but I can’t ignore the reality of what’s happening. Was I wrong to think he loved me? Or did I just fall for a “gold digger”?