I’ve made mistakes in my life, but the biggest one of my mistakes still lives beside me and I don’t know what to do. I was 25 years old when I married a guy named Bryan. He was two years older than me. At that time he seemed to me almost like a prince on a white horse.
He constantly gave me flowers, gifts, carried my heavy bags, we never quarreled, and we could always resolve any issue calmly. We had never lived together before we got married. Neither he nor I were supporters of cohabitation, we considered it something frivolous. And then we just got married. My mother and father gave us money for our wedding, but that amount would not have been enough to buy our own home. I didn’t particularly want to rent either – why pay someone else’s uncle and constantly have to listen to him about whether we were living right or wrong. In short, then Bryan’s mother suggested that we live with her. She had two rooms in the apartment, she was bored anyway, and there was plenty of room to spare. Why not live there?
I agreed on my own head. Bryan’s mother seemed like a nice woman, so it wasn’t hard to find a common language with her. But as soon as I got married to Brian and moved in with my mother-in-law, I immediately found out a lot more about my husband. It turned out that his mother still thought he was little. And when he lived with her, he didn’t do anything at all around the house. Right up to the fact that his mother washed his underpants and socks for him, a grown man. You have to admit that’s not normal.
All Brian did was go to work and do his own thing. It’s not strange that as soon as we all started living together, all the responsibilities were passed on to me. Now I had to cook for everyone, clean, laundry, ironing. Did I need it? Yes, my mother-in-law did not get into my business, and did not go into the kitchen when I cooked. But the fact that she did not even want to help me, gave the impression that I was in their family for a slave.
Then there was even worse news waiting for me. Somehow an outlet caught fire, and we put the fire out. But when I asked my husband to remove what was left of the old and install the new, for him it was just some kind of task from higher mathematics. It turned out that my husband did not even know how to change the sockets. What can I say, when it was necessary to change the light bulb in the room, he shrank from fear and said he would not do it. So I took a stool and changed the lightbulb myself. Anyway, it turned out that my husband doesn’t know how to do anything at all. Say, what’s the big deal. But he did not even want to learn anything. What’s the point? Better to call a man, pay money. Well, okay, but my husband did not earn millions, so that others do everything for him.
Most of all I was taken out of my mind by the fact that my mother-in-law constantly treated her son as a boy of seven, and he shyly replied mommy.
-Bryaan, did you put your socks on, did you change your panties? Bryaan, did you wash properly? – Listening to such talk I wanted to vomit. He’s a grown man, and his mother asks him if he changed his panties.
In short, I really want a divorce. But then what will I do? I do not have my own place, the money that my parents gave me, we have already spent. But I can not tolerate all this, too. How much more of this snot-nosedness can I take?
