I am inordinately annoyed by women who think too highly of themselves just because they were born with a pretty face and skillfully use their attractiveness. My wife is just such a woman. She hasn’t been young for a long time, and it’s not that she’s pretty, but she constantly remembers the old days, when she had suitors chasing her and I had to be jealous of her and beat her away from everyone.
When I was young, I wanted a girl who would be pleasant to look at, and what she would do with her life didn’t really matter to me. After all, my grandmother worked, and my mother all her life at work, and in our progressive world, everyone can and should work. But that didn’t concern Samantha. She’s beautiful because she’s won this life, and she only tolerates me because I’m hard-working and pay my rent on time.
We have no marriage, but some kind of unfair exchange. I pay her money, and there’s nothing to see anyway. I’m sick and tired of seeing her in four walls with no hobbies, no job, no money. She never gave me a present in twelve years of our marriage. You have to spend money on that, and she doesn’t have any.
– All your girlfriends work. They don’t care why they work and you stay home all the time? – somehow I got turned on again after work.
I’d had a long day, I had a lot to do, and I was tired, and there was a noisy, excited Samantha waiting for me at home. She wanted me to take her out, while I just wanted to go to bed.
– Why should they care? They’re jealous of me having this opportunity. So don’t relax, work harder, my love. If you do not want to go with me, give me money for dinner.
This attitude was frankly annoying to me, and Samantha’s inattention to my fatigue offended me.
– Take it in your purse,” I replied. – Or use the “Free Dinner for Beauty” coupon. Ahh… there doesn’t seem to be such a thing.
– Don’t be sarcastic,” Samantha said angrily. – Otherwise I’ll leave you! Do you know how many people want my hand and heart?
– Yes, please, to all four sides.
Did I offend her or was she just trying to teach me a lesson, but she did not come home for the night. In the morning, I got a call from her mom. She was just like her daughter, nose up, standards too.
– You kicked Samantha out? What did she do to you? She put up with you like a fool!
– Who else put up with who here,” I said sternly. – Whether she comes home or not is her problem. But if she wants to come back, she’d better give me her job information first. I want to see how our patient will pay for the apartment and her vagaries out of her own pocket.
