Devinder's blog: It Was Always About the Money

It’s only when you step away from a situation that the truth begins to surface. You see things clearly—what was really going on beneath the surface.

I’ve never managed to sustain a marriage or relationship beyond five years. That might sound like a decent stretch, but not when you know—deep down—it was over within the first twelve months. The remaining four years were just performance art, a façade to reassure family and friends. It was like presenting proof of commitment while the relationship itself had long since flatlined—and I felt emotionally hollow.

Over the past year, I found myself sinking into a low. I started to recognise what I missed most about being in a relationship: intimacy. I wanted to be held, to feel human again. 

In that haze of longing and reflection, I reached out to someone who I’d seen around at social events — a man who had shown subtle signs of interest that I’d always brushed aside. We were from different worlds: different cultures, different backgrounds. It could never work. But I wasn’t looking for a relationship with him. What I wanted was something simple, physical, and free of emotional entanglement. So that’s what I pursued: a no-strings, no-commitment arrangement. We didn’t talk. We didn’t make eye contact. We didn’t even know each other’s names. He’d leave, and I’d return to solo parenting, no expectations, no complications. It was our secret, and I loved that.

Then came the turning point. He asked me for money.  I said no. He disappeared for three weeks and then came back; things resumed as before. But then it happened again—this time, he asked for £400, promising to repay it within a week. He even sent a photo of a parking fine. My head screamed “red flag,” but my heart whispered, “He promised.” I gave in. I never saw that money again, despite multiple ignored messages.

Three weeks later, he asked for £600—this time promising to repay both amounts. I was torn. If I refused, would he vanish again? If I agreed, would this cycle ever end? I don’t have unlimited funds. I had to confront myself. I chose to listen to my head this time. I knew I’d never see that money again, no matter how many texts were sent. He told me he’d been sleeping in his car so how could he possibly repay me?

That was the breaking point. I said no—firmly, finally. I didn’t care about the fallout. The situation had become invasive, disruptive. I hadn’t signed up for this.

I haven’t heard from him since. For him, it was always about the money. And I was left gutted.

Looking back, money seems to have been the common thread in my previous marriage and relationships. Were they with me just because I bailed them out? Did they see no other value in me? It’s a painful pattern— continually paying off someone else’s debts.

It hurts.

This time, I lost £400. In the past, it’s been thousands. Maybe that’s the silver lining: I’m learning faster now.

I think……

Devinder works in the financial services sector, is mum to a beautiful boy and is on a constant quest to understand the world and everything in it.