My Boyfriend Publicly Humiliated Me On TikTok, Calling Me…

He launched immediately into what sounded like a rehearsed speech about how sorry he was and how much he missed me. He said the past month had been the worst of his life.

I let him talk for exactly two minutes. Then I placed my phone screen up between us, open to the screenshots Xavier had sent me of the group chat.

“So, who’s Adriana?” I asked.

The look on his face was like watching someone get hit with a taser. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

“That’s… those are… Xavier shouldn’t have…” He stammered.

“Just tell me the truth, Derek. For once.” I said.

The next 20 minutes were illuminating. Once he realized he was caught, the apologies stopped and the excuses started.

He claimed Adriana was just a friend at first. He said he’d been confused about our relationship for months and thought three years was too long to be with one person in your 20s.

He said the TikTok was stupid, but he never thought I’d see it.

“I panicked when you disappeared. I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Adriana wasn’t worth losing you over.” He admitted.

That’s when it clicked. He wasn’t devastated about hurting me; he was devastated about looking like the bad guy.

He was worried about losing control of the narrative and about everyone knowing what he’d done. I took a sip of my cold chai and said the words I’d been practicing all morning.

“I’m not here to get back together, Derek. I’m here to tell you that I know everything and I’m done. Don’t contact me, my friends, or my family again. We’re over.”

His eyes welled up with tears that I’m now 99% sure were performative.

“But I love you. We can fix this. I’ll do anything.” He said.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have spent three months planning how to humiliate me so you could be with someone else.”

I stood up, gathering my purse and jacket. That’s when he played his final card, one I wasn’t expecting.

“I broke the lease on my apartment. I’ve been staying with my mom. I thought—I thought we’d be moving in together next month like we planned.” He blurted out.

For a brief, insane moment, I felt guilty, like I was the one ruining his life. Then I remembered the cold calculation of those messages planning exactly how to break my heart in the most public way possible.

“You should call Adriana. I’m sure she has room at her place.” I said.

And then I walked out. There was no dramatic exit and no scene; I was just done.

New Connections and Final Clarity

He texted 17 times in the next two hours, switching from apologetic to angry to desperate and back again. I didn’t reply to any of them.

I just took screenshots and sent them to Amara with the caption: “The audacity continues.”

Around noon, my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number. My first thought was, “Here we go again.”

But it wasn’t Derek; it was Adriana.

“Hi, Eliana. You don’t know me, but I think we need to talk. Derrick’s been telling me one story and apparently telling you another.”

We met for coffee that afternoon. I’ve consumed enough caffeine this week to power a small city.

Turns out, Adriana had no idea Derrick had a girlfriend until two weeks ago when she saw his public apology TikTok. He told her he was single, had been for months, and was dealing with a “crazy ex” who couldn’t let go.

Sound familiar? The craziest part is she’s actually nice.

We ended up talking for three hours, comparing notes on Derrick’s lies. She showed me texts where he was telling her he loved her the same day he was leaving sobbing voicemails on my phone.

By the end of our conversation, we were following each other on Instagram. We had made tentative plans to check out a new wine bar that’s opening next month.

Trust issues solidarity, I guess. That night, I finally did something I’d been putting off.

I unblocked Derrick on Instagram just temporarily and went to his profile. His story from three hours earlier was a black screen with the song “Glimpse of Us” playing.

It’s Joji’s sad boy anthem, which is so on-brand. The text said:

“Sometimes you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.”

His profile picture was still us from last summer. His most recent post was a throwback photo of us from our second anniversary with the caption:

“I’d give anything to go back.”

Meanwhile, Adriana had sent me screenshots of him texting her that same day, asking if she wanted to hang out later. I’ve never felt more certain of a decision in my life.

Yesterday marked exactly 40 days since I discovered the TikTok. Six weeks of pain, anger, confusion, and finally, clarity.

I officially blocked Derrick on every platform. I changed my number this morning and told my landlord under no circumstances should he ever be allowed into the building.

And then I did something just for me. Remember that digital marketing certificate I applied for?

I got accepted yesterday. Classes start next month.

I paid the deposit with money I’d been saving for the apartment Derrick and I were supposed to share. Last night, Amara, Miguel, and a few other friends came over for an impromptu “Goodbye Derek” party.

We ordered pizza, drank cheap wine, and took turns reading the increasingly desperate texts he sent over the past weeks. Toxic, I know, but also weirdly cathartic.

At one point, Miguel asked if I was sad about wasting three years with Derrick. And the thing is, I’m not.

Those years weren’t a waste; they were a lesson about red flags I’ll never ignore again. They taught me about my own resilience and about the kind of relationship I actually deserve.

This morning, I woke up to a notification that Derrick had tagged me in a new Instagram post. My finger hovered over the view button for about three seconds before I realized I don’t care what it says.

His words have no power over me anymore. Instead, I deleted the notification, made my coffee, and sat on my balcony watching the sunrise.

So I guess this is officially the end of this saga. People are asking if I’m worried Derrick will see this post.

Honestly, part of me hopes he does. Let him read how thoroughly he failed at controlling this narrative.

Let him see that his “hideous” ex is thriving without him. And to any other girls out there dealing with your own Derricks: you deserve better, and better exists.

Trust me.