The Pink Tax Return — I Moved Into Manhattan With The Girl He Cheated On Me With… The Same Day I Found Out. New York, New York. September 30th 2025.
In a matter of weeks, I went from drinking frozen Aperol spritzes at a boujee rooftop pool to draining my savings, furnishing an apartment I didn’t want, desperately job hunting, while living with the very girl I was cheated on with.
My life didn’t slowly fall apart. It collapsed all at once.
This was certainly another life lesson, the kind you don’t sign up for. I was hauling sixty-pound suitcases up four flights of stairs with tears in my eyes, calling customer service about my energy bill when all I wanted to do was lie on the floor, cry, and listen to sad music.
I’m only 23. I’m not that good at life yet. Every time I think I have something figured out, something new happens and I have no idea what to do next. But that’s kind of the definition of life, isn’t it? Nobody really knows. We just pretend better at different stages.
The summer I turned twenty-three was the most fun I’ve ever had, my first summer in New York. I was working at the Equinox Hotel, serving at the members-only rooftop pool. It felt like the life I had imagined in my wildest dreams of NYC.
Pilates in the morning. Spritzes all day. Running from West Village dinners to downtown clubs in little heels and tiny skirts. Meeting more people than I ever had before. Clubbing the nights away with my soon-to-be ex best friend. It felt like everything I’d ever wanted.
Then September came.
My best friend and I planned a big move from Brooklyn to Manhattan. It didn’t seem like it could possibly be harder than moving across the country the year before. That had been the hardest thing I’d ever done… right?
We chose a one-bedroom apartment. She’d take the tiny bedroom, and I’d take the living room, which we swore we’d “keep as a shared space.” We were best friends. Surely we could make it work. As long as we didn’t end up hating each other.
Around the same time, we started working out the details of the lease, I was seeing this guy, a regular at my rooftop job. It started as a fling, but somewhere along the way I realized how much I liked his company. He’d end the night with us, Uber us home, buy us food. It felt easy. Fun. The kind of hot summer romance you write stories about. It started to be the most serious I’d ever taken someone.
What I didn’t know was what was happening behind closed doors, for the past month.
I found out at 5 a.m. on moving day.
Quite literally one of the worst days of my life.
I spent the entire day Ubering back and forth, moving my belongings from Brooklyn to Manhattan after crying all night, sitting next to the very girl I had just caught my man cheating on me with.
Yep. That’s right.
I moved into a one-bedroom apartment with the girl he cheated on me for. The same day I found out.
We wanted the apartment for plot purposes. I just didn’t know what the story would be.
You might be wondering why I went through with it. Why not just cancel the lease and find somewhere else?
The truth is, it wasn’t that simple. Because of our age and income, we needed a guarantor. Her dad agreed to sign — but only if we had a private contract between us stating that if I ever failed to pay rent, my dad would reimburse him. It was long. Strict. Very adult.
What we didn’t include was a fail-safe. No clean exit. No clause for emotional disasters. And the financial risk of trying to sublet in Manhattan felt worse than just staying.
Plus, I have this thing where I refuse to let anyone push me out of my own space.
Now, I’m learning how to be alone again, for real this time. There’s no quiet Brooklyn street to hide behind. I’m in the middle of Manhattan. I have a small but growing network, experience, a year of New York under my belt.
And somehow, I feel more alone than ever.
Every relationship around me now feels tangled in complications. Every morning, I wake up, walk past the version of myself that made these decisions, and still have to choose to keep going.
Some days, that means staying in bed until noon.
But at least I have this blog. Even if nobody reads it yet.
