She Put a Hex on Me After One Uber Ride — And Somehow That's Not Even the Wildest Part

One Uber Ride. One Very Fateful Decision to Stay Connected.

Let's set the scene: you're in an Uber, you strike up a conversation with someone, you vibe, maybe you exchange numbers. It happens. Most of the time that's where it ends — a pleasant little blip in your week that you forget about by Thursday. But every once in a while, that casual connection becomes something you absolutely did not sign up for. This is one of those times.

According to the story shared by @locdgoat, a single Uber ride became the unlikely origin story of a friendship that would eventually spiral into manipulation, bizarre behavior, and — we cannot stress this enough — a hex. An actual hex. Placed on a person. By someone they met in a car.

Now, we know what some of you are thinking: 'Curtis, Honade, people say wild stuff all the time, it's probably just drama.' And look, we hear you. But here's the thing — the hex claim didn't come out of nowhere. It was the end result of a relationship that had been accumulating red flags the way some people collect trauma responses: quietly, consistently, and with alarming efficiency.

The Red Flags Were There — They Were Just Wearing a Disguise

This is the part that gets us every single time with these stories. The friendship didn't start dark. It never does. It started as a casual connection that felt good, felt easy — the kind of new friendship energy that makes you think, 'Oh, this person gets me.' And that feeling? That's exactly what manipulation often hides behind.

What the account describes is a pattern we recognize immediately: a relationship that escalated faster than it should have, where one person began making increasingly strange claims and using what can only be described as psychological pressure to keep the other person off-balance. Manipulation in friendships is sneaky because we're conditioned to watch for it in romantic relationships. We know the love-bombing, the isolation, the gaslighting — but when it shows up in a friendship, it often flies under the radar for way too long because the stakes feel lower. They're not lower. They're just labeled differently.

By the time the spiritual claims started surfacing, this person was already deep enough in the dynamic that the hex accusation — or declaration, depending on how you look at it — landed with real psychological weight. And that's the point, isn't it? Whether or not you personally believe in hexes, curses, or spiritual warfare, the power of that kind of claim lives in the mind of the person receiving it. If you've been softened up by weeks or months of manipulation, your defenses are already compromised. Suddenly you're not just dealing with a messy friendship — you're questioning your own reality.

Spiritual Warfare or Psychological Warfare? (Honestly, Why Not Both)

Here's where we want to sit for a second, because this story raises a question that's genuinely worth unpacking: what do you do when someone tells you they've hexed you?

For a lot of people, the instinct is to laugh it off. 'That's not real, I don't believe in that, moving on.' But dismissing it entirely misses something important — the intent behind the claim is real, even if the mechanism is debatable. Someone who tells you they've placed a hex on you is communicating something loud and clear: I want you to feel powerless. I want you to be afraid. I want to occupy space in your head rent-free and watch you spiral. That's not nothing. That's actually a pretty deliberate psychological move.

On the flip side, we also want to acknowledge that for many people and many cultures, spiritual practices are deeply real and deeply serious — and the weaponization of those beliefs is its own kind of violation. Using spiritual language as a manipulation tool is a particular flavor of awful because it tangles up someone's faith, their fear, and their sense of safety all at once.

What @locdgoat's account captures is that psychological toll — the genuine questioning, the 'wait, am I being dramatic or is something actually wrong here?' spiral that comes from being inside a toxic dynamic long enough. And that experience, whatever you believe about the supernatural, is completely valid and completely exhausting.

So What Do You Actually Do When a Friendship Gets This Dark?

We talk about this a lot in the MessyFam community and we'll say it again here: leaving a toxic friendship is somehow harder than leaving a toxic relationship for a lot of people, and we think it's because we don't give friendship breakups the same cultural weight. There's no script for it. There's no 'we need to talk' conversation with a clear social framework. You just have to decide that your peace matters more than the connection — and then you have to hold that decision while the other person potentially escalates.

And when that escalation involves spiritual claims? That's a whole additional layer of complicated. Because now you're not just walking away from someone who's hurt you — you're walking away from someone who has made you feel, on some level, like walking away might come with consequences you can't see or control.

The fact that this story started with something as mundane as an Uber ride is what makes it hit so hard. None of us vet our chance encounters. None of us can. And most of the time, that's fine. But stories like this one are a reminder that the people who end up having the biggest impact on our lives — for better or for much, much worse — often show up when we least expect them, in the most ordinary of circumstances.

Not every connection that starts innocently stays that way — and your peace is worth more than any friendship that makes you question your own sanity. Trust the pattern, not just the moment.