I Work, I Cook, I Clean — And My Husband Dares to Say THIS to Me?!
I’m 40. I work full-time. I pay the bills. I keep the house running. I make sure dinner’s hot, the laundry’s folded, and that nothing falls apart — even when I feel like I’m falling apart myself.
And my husband? He spends every day in the garage with his best buddy, doing God knows what. No job. No effort. Not even a thank you.
But the worst part? It’s not just that he refuses to help.
It’s that he mocks me for carrying the entire weight of our lives.
That night, I came home from another brutal shift. My feet were aching. I hadn’t eaten all day. But I still walked into the garage, holding onto a last thread of hope, and said:
“Please. Just get a job. I can’t keep doing this alone.”
He didn’t even look up.
And then he said the words that made my blood run cold:
“If you think we need two incomes… go get a second job.”
It was like being punched in the gut.
For a moment, I felt crushed.
Then I felt something else.
Rage. Resolve. Clarity.
I knew right then — I would NEVER let anyone make me feel that small again.
And what happened next?
Let’s just say… he wasn’t ready.
Full story continues in the first comment. You won’t believe how I turned the tables.
I came home exhausted, ready to collapse, but laughter from the garage hit me like a slap. There they were—my husband and his deadbeat best friend, hands greasy, sweating, “fixing” that same damn car. When Mark suggested I get a second job, something inside me snapped. So I did.
