Fairly Aggressive
I’m a senior at a large state university. This happened in the first semester of my freshman year. I was selected for an honors-type program that placed me in a co-ed dorm building with every other student in the program.
As a dumb freshman, I rushed into a relationship with a freshman girl who lived right above me. We’ll call her Megan. It was convenient for me to date someone who lived so close, but everyone else in our building hated Megan because she talked a lot, and almost exclusively about herself.
She bragged often about being a “fairly aggressive” person, but somehow I overlooked that mile-wide red flag. Right after Thanksgiving break, at the end of an evening class, I got a call from my mom, who noticed some unusual activity on my checking account.
Back then I had no credit card, so this account/debit card was my only access to my savings while I lived on campus. I rarely needed to buy anything during the semester, so I was puzzled to find that $104.29 had left my bank account over two weeks—in the form of six Grubhub food orders.
At this point, I trusted Megan, but I decided to ask her about the money right away. She denied any involvement and suggested that I cancel my debit card. After a really long phone call to the bank, I did just that.
Next, I reached out to Grubhub customer service on Twitter: “Hey, my card was stolen and used for food orders on these dates. Can I have the receipts?” They sent me the first and last receipts, but they had to “redact” the personal info of the account holder.
I say “redact” in quotes because they just used the Snapchat draw tool, and Megan’s name was still clearly visible on both receipts. What’s more: The most recent receipt was only two hours old.
She was probably still eating when I chopped up my debit card! It’s worth noting that she and I both had unlimited dining plans—paid for by our respective parents—and we lived 500 feet from the nearest dining hall. She didn’t need to order food, and she definitely didn’t need my money to do it.
So I texted her again: “I have the receipts from Grubhub. Are you sure you didn’t make those orders?” Her reply: “SCREW YOU FOR SUSPECTING ME!” (“Fairly aggressive,” wouldn’t you say?) I hatched a plan. I was going to collect security camera footage of her picking up the order from that evening.
However, by midnight, Megan arrived at my door in tears and confessed to everything, plus she admitted to being a serial shoplifter. Exhausted, I sent her away and decided to deal with everything in the morning.
By the next day, everyone in our building seemed to know what was going down, probably because Megan had already begun broadcasting her version of the story. I sent Megan a breakup text and decided that the $104.29 was a loss. At least I escaped unscathed, right?
Well, less than two days later, she entered my room when I wasn’t looking. I was sitting at my desk when I noticed her standing silently behind me. Megan: “Give me my stuff. Where’s my stuff?” Me: “What stuff?” Megan: “YOU KNOW.” I did not know.
She tore through the room, looking for something that she refused to identify. Just as quick as she came, she was gone, and I locked the door because obviously this wasn’t over yet. Within a minute, she was back. She stood outside my door, knocking and demanding I let her back inside.
The knocking quickly got more violent. She started shouting “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” and “OPEN THE DOOR!” Mind that we lived in this building with students in our program who all know each other, and all of them could hear her. Pretty quickly, Megan was rattling the handle of my door.
Next, she began throwing herself at it, shoulder-first, trying to break it down. I lived next door to my RA, but judging by the lack of any intervention, he was elsewhere. So I whipped out my phone and texted him to send backup. Meanwhile, I saw my heavy wooden door bending and buckling.
I even heard it crack a bit. My RA was on duty in another building, so he sent three of his colleagues to de-escalate the situation. They brought Megan downstairs, where she revealed that the “stuff” she wanted was just the T-shirt and keychain that she gave me for my birthday.
Whatever; I let her have those. I still just wanted this to be over. However, once I shared my story with the resident life staff, they filed university paperwork to place a no-contact order between me and Megan.
They also recommended I contact the campus authorities, who then told me I should get my money back in small-claims court. Um, I couldn’t even get there without a car or money to pay for an Uber. Sorry, Judge Judy.
At the request of the campus officers, I also contacted the Title IX office at my school, sending them the story of everything you’ve read so far. They were interested—to say the least—although I didn’t want any trouble.
I just wanted a clean breakup and a fresh start, but a Title IX representative informed me that they were bringing three misconduct charges against Megan: Theft, threatening/violent behavior, and inciting an intervention by university staff.
The representative asked me to serve as a witness in Megan’s disciplinary hearing the next semester. I tentatively agreed, right before the representative set the hearing date for February 14th. Valentine’s Day. I thought it was a joke, but they really did that.
When the day of the hearing finally arrived, the no-contact order was still in effect, but a few of my friends had kept tabs on Megan. For starters, she failed all of her classes in the fall.
Someone in my math course confessed that Megan had tried to sleep with him while she was dating me, and he had to repeatedly tell her no. Even worse, Megan kept telling a twisted version of the whole story to try and turn my friends against me.
So when I found out that she had found a new boyfriend, it felt good to know that the V-Day disciplinary hearing ruined whatever evening plans they might’ve made. I arrived alone at the disciplinary board office, unsure what to expect.
The board consisted of grad students, and the hearing was expected to run into the night. Unlike me, Megan did not come alone. She brought both of her parents as “character witnesses” (that wasn’t even a thing here; this wasn’t a real courtroom, as you’ll soon see). And that’s not all.
Megan’s parents also paid a lawyer to defend her against the charges. The board knew that was unnecessary, but Megan’s parents believed so strongly in their daughter’s innocence that they had already paid this three-piece suit make her case.
In the name of fairness, the board members offered me pro-bono representation: A junior economics major, who we’ll call Jimmy. Jimmy had already read my account of the events from the fall, and thanks to my screenshots of Grubhub receipts, he said there was an okay shot of the charges sticking.
Then I told him something I’d kept secret for months. When Megan tried to break down my door and I whipped out my phone to text my RA, I also filmed the whole thing. Jimmy couldn’t get enough of the video. There was Megan, kicking and screaming and clearly trying to break into my dorm room.
It was all the evidence I needed, and no one saw it coming. In the hearing, when the time came for me to make the case against Megan, Jimmy played the video on a big screen in front of everyone. The room went insane. In that instant, I realized that Megan really had convinced everyone I was the liar.
In her version of the story, I gave her permission to buy food using my account. She told her parents that she’d asked me politely for her belongings, which I’d rudely hidden from her in my dorm room. In Megan’s story, I was the sociopath trying to ruin her reputation.
Before I unveiled the video, it was her word against mine. I still didn’t want revenge…Even after finding out that Megan tried to cheat on me. But when I saw her parents flipping out at the video: “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US YOU DID THIS?!”
and her lawyer yelling, “THIS EVIDENCE WAS NOT PROVIDED IN PRE-TRIAL DISCLOSURE!” and a board member standing over him: “SIR, THIS IS NOT A COURT OF LAW. PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR SEAT” and him shouting “OBJECTION!”
and her replying: “WE DON’T HAVE OBJECTIONS, THIS ISN’T A COURT OF LAW” and Jimmy, my new best friend, just trying not to laugh out loud… That’s when I realized how good revenge can feel when it’s fair and deserved.
The board found Megan responsible on all three charges. My side of the bench recommended the university terminate her housing contract and force her to pay restitution. Her side recommended only restitution and a reprimand. The board compromised.
Her family paid back most of the money she took (“most” because two of the six orders had the same price and the lawyer convinced the board I had duplicated an order), and Megan was forced to move into a different dorm building.
This probably would’ve helped her anyway because every student in our program’s building knew everything she’d done and lied about. They wouldn’t speak to her, and no one wanted to be her roommate. By the time she had to move buildings, she’d already failed all of her courses again.
Having paid for her tuition, her unused dining plan, her lawyer, and her restitution, Megan’s parents finally pulled her out of school. Where are they now? Last I heard, Megan returned as a part-time student, but I never saw her again because the no-contact order still stands.
I’m now Facebook friends with the guy Megan tried to seduce. Oh, and Jimmy and I connected on LinkedIn. As for me, well…I no longer date “fairly aggressive” people. It’s better that way. Story credit: Reddit / justwaititgetsbetter