I had the impression that I knew my husband, Caleb, like the back of my hand over the eight years that we had been married. We had been through the ups and downs of life together—who hasn’t?—and I was confident that our connection was strong. Unchanging. Predictable in nature.
After that, a few fissures started to appear.
In the beginning, he would throw out bizarre conversation openers as we were eating supper. He would say things like, “Some cultures have relationships that are… more efficient.”
Alternatively, “You know, there are ways to share the load so that nobody is overworked,” and so on.
I was under the impression that it was simply another one of his fleeting hobbies, similar to the time he became obsessed with beekeeping videos or his brief but intense romantic relationship with urban gardening. Regarding it, I even made fun of him.
On the other hand, his tone was different this time.
While I was cleaning one evening, he approached me from the doorway and asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier if you had someone to help with all of this?” which I answered in the affirmative.
“Of course,” I responded. This is the reason why housekeepers are employed. Regrettably, we are unable to afford one.”
Instead of laughing, he simply grinned in a manner that was tight and peculiar, and he hummed as if he was more in agreement with himself than he was with me.
Following that, he chose to keep his phone a secret. In addition to smirking at texts and shutting himself in the bathroom for half an hour at a time, he was taking it everywhere he went. As soon as I inquired about it, he dismissed me by saying, “Just dumb videos.”
I had a feeling that something was going to happen. Simply said, I was unaware that it would come with lip gloss and two legs before it arrived.
I was slicing carrots on the night that it occurred, and the front door opened at that moment. Caleb strolled in, and behind him was a woman I had never seen before. He was happy in a way that started alarms, and I was surprised to see her.
There was an excessive amount of excitement in his voice when he introduced Liana to Gemma.
I blinked my eyes. Greetings, Liana!
Despite the fact that she smiled, her eyes kept darting to his as if she were waiting for permission to speak.
He drew in a long, deep breath. ‘Gemma…’ In the future, I plan to make Liana my second wife.
It made me laugh. Violently. Since it is very clear that this was a prank.
It was not the case.
He then proceeded to make a weird pitch talking about “shared responsibilities” and “building a supportive household.” Since I was usually exhausted, I believe that this would be beneficial for all of us.
I stated in a solemn tone, “A sister-wife.”
“She has compassion. Very astute. He made the statement as if he were describing a merger of businesses. “She understands my vision,” he continued.
I should have kicked him out of the house. What happened instead was that something within me became icy and transparent.
I responded, “Okay,” as I put the knife down on the table. The phrase “you can have a second wife”
The expression on his face changed. “Are you serious? “Are you serious?”
It is true. Nevertheless, she is not permitted to be in any proximity to my second spouse.
The silence was just stunning.
Caleb’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What is it?”
That’s what I said. Just and equal, Caleb. Like you, I will be getting another companion. An somebody who will prepare a meal for me, massage my feet, and make me feel like a queen.
He yelled out, “That is beyond repulsive!”
It’s that, is it? I inquired in a kind manner. What’s funny is that it’s only when I’m having fun that it turns into something unpleasant.
In her appearance, Liana appeared to be trying out for a role in a disappearing act. With a red face, Caleb advised her that she should leave. She made a break for it.
By the time dawn arrived, he had fully given up on the plan, moaning that it was “stupid” and “not worth it.” I informed him that I had previously created a dating profile and that an abundance of men who were capable of cooking were showing interest in me.
During the same week, I packed my belongings, took our baby with me, and moved in with my closest friend Tasha. She greeted me with a glass of wine and encouraged me to embrace my newfound independence.
Caleb sent a text message. Phoned in. pleaded with. I sincerely apologize. Counseling was promised. On the other hand, I was well aware of his true nature—someone who tried to pass off charity as control.
I submitted a petition for divorce.
After a few months had passed, my daughter and I were sitting at the kitchen table, working on our homework in our modest apartment. She laughed at something that was so ridiculous that I felt a surge of tranquility that was so profound that it almost jolted me.
It is sometimes sufficient to establish a single rule that is impossible in order to see the reality. As a companion, Caleb never desired to be on an equal footing; rather, he desired someone who would quietly accept less.
My time as that person has come to an end.
My life is now my mine. These are my terms. It brings me delight. Freedom for me. In addition, there will be no additional spouses at any time.
