My ex made more money than I did. Eventually, it tore us apart.

• When we started dating, I knew my ex made more money than I did and felt pressure to keep up.
• I tried to ignore how much it affected me, but I couldn't. When I told him, things changed.
• Eventually, our financial disparity got between us, and we broke up.

I dated someone who was nine years older and much more accomplished in life than me. I told myself it wasn't a big deal. Women often earn less than men, and plenty of relationships work despite financial gaps. But what I didn't expect was how that gap shaped our dynamic.

We both worked in marketing, doing the same kind of projects, but the contrast in our earnings was stark. My rate for projects was $50, while he would rake in $250 for the same work. And since he often had more clients than I did, he had the chance to make much more than me. Most months, he would bring in more than five times what I made.

It wasn't something we openly discussed, but I felt it in every plan, discussion, purchase, and moment when I had to choose between admitting I couldn't afford something or pretending I could. I always chose the latter.

When he casually booked weekend getaways, I'd always suggest he make plans with his friends because, mentally, I was calculating how much I could spend on groceries for the week. The day he casually blew $200 on new shoes, I struggled to gather enough money to pay for my insurance before the deadline.

At 22, I was hustling to make ends meet, saving every dollar I earned for tuition and the future I hoped we'd share together.

The financial disparity took a huge toll on me

I felt a silent pressure to keep up with him. He was aware of the gap between us but didn't know how much it affected me, and I didn't want to have to spell it out. I felt guilty for not contributing equally to plans, insecure about my financial situation, and frustrated that I felt I couldn't be more honest about it. I was trying to avoid the reality of the situation, so I downplayed my worries, hoping that if I acted unbothered, he wouldn't start seeing me differently. I thought that if he actually knew how much I worried about finances, he would be disgusted.

But as time passed, the weight of it all became unbearable. I started declining invitations, subtly steering conversations away from expensive activities. He never explicitly asked me to contribute more, but didn't stop trying to make plans that cost more than I could afford, either. I felt isolated in my own relationship, carrying the quiet weight of my financial reality while trying to maintain the illusion that we were equals.

I was honest about how I felt, and our relationship changed

The breaking point came three years into the relationship when we spoke about our future plans to move abroad. I confessed that I needed more time because I couldn't afford it. To my surprise, he didn't seem upset, just shocked that I had been hiding my struggles for so long.

But as I had feared, something did change after that conversation. He grew distant, and I felt less close to him. Whenever we talked about goals or future plans, he brushed them aside. It was subtle at first, just a hesitation that wasn't there before, but I felt it.

Then he moved to Europe for work, and at first, I thought being long-distance would help ease the tension. Without the constant pressure of regular plans, I assumed the financial gap wouldn't feel as suffocating. But if anything, the emotional distance only made the cracks more visible.

Money still found its way into our conversations. And every time, I felt the same quiet shame. The reality never changed: he had financial freedom, and I still counted every dollar. Even from miles away, I felt embarrassed.

I've made peace with how things happened

Slowly, the relationship continued to unravel. Deep down, I knew why: he didn't see a future with me anymore. Texts became shorter, calls less frequent. The distance between us started to feel less like a temporary challenge and more like the new normal.

There was no big fight or dramatic ending. After nearly four years, we just slowly stopped trying, and that silence was enough to tell us that it was time to let go.

Looking back, I wish I had been more open from the start. But when I was in the thick of it, it didn't feel so simple. It's easy to say that love should outweigh financial differences, but harder to make that actually work, and I'm learning to make peace with the situation.