When I told the last man I was living with to leave, he was taking his sweet time about finding new digs. Finally, one night when I caught him in yet another lie (a big one), I told him I expected him to leave, the next day.
He protested he had "no place to go" and my response was, "Not my problem." I took the day off from work to make sure he actually did it. He took most of his important stuff, left, and went to live in a motel for a few weeks until he found an apartment. I boxed up the rest of his stuff and eventually we arranged for a day for him and a friend to pick it up.
Quiet insistence.