I got married when I was a little over twenty years old. The reason was not to get knocked up, but to fall in love. Before we got married, we were in a relationship for about a year. Then a marriage proposal followed. I didn’t refuse, of course.
At the time, Igor and I both worked in the same supermarket. I was the cashier, and he was the manager. In fact, it was work that brought us together. It was love at first sight. He was always polite and kind, beautiful courtship, flowers and gifts.
Just married, we immediately decided that we would contribute equal parts to pay for utilities, buy groceries, gasoline. It seemed fair to spend some of the money on basic expenses and what was left over on ourselves. But before long we had a common piggy bank, into which we set aside money to go on vacation.
Everything was fine until Igor decided to change jobs. At his new job his salary was twice as much as mine, if not three times more. Igor began to reproach me. But he also did not want to increase his contribution to the family budget, although it would have been fair, as far as I was concerned. But he flatly refused, saying that I should look for a job with a higher salary.
Why did I offer to give him more money? Yes, because, elementary, we share the groceries, but my Igor eats five times more than me. Plus, when his income increased, he began to eat more expensive products. So I think it’s unfair to divide the check equally in this case. I do not eat very much, in principle, I can not eat a whole pizza at once. Two slices at the most. But he can. And after that, to finish with something sweet.
In short, the next time we went to buy groceries, my husband and I took a basket and divided: he – for his products, I – for mine. Igor got all kinds of meat, fish, caviar, a couple of bottles of wine, in general, he did not deny himself anything. I got buckwheat, pasta, chicken breast, and some vegetables. At the checkout, everyone paid for themselves.
When I got home, I made myself some pasta and chicken, ate it, and laid down on the couch. My husband was perplexed and asked when we were going to have dinner.
And I already ate dinner, honey! – I answered.
I do not understand, and what should I eat? – Igor was surprised.
I’m not going to pay for what I do not eat, respectively, and cooking I do not care! This is your problem! – I said.
He went to cook the veal and chop a salad of cabbage and tomatoes, frowning and dissatisfied. I don’t know why he thought the combination of cabbage and tomatoes was good. Okay, when “dinner” was ready, Igor came into the room, defiantly puffing his nose. And for the next half hour I watched as he tried to cram the rubber veal and salad into himself, washing it all down with wine.
So a week went by. Igor came home from work tired and hungry. Finally he decided to have a conversation.
Julia, explain to me why I need a wife who refuses to cook for me?
And they don’t cook for you, my dear, because you have to respect your wife!
Don’t I respect you?
No, Igor. If you did, you would have accepted my offer to increase your contribution to the family budget. You know very well how much I eat and how different the amount of food for me. We contribute equally, and it turns out that I feed you and spend on myself what is left of my salary. You, of course, are fine with it, but I don’t want to be a jerk anymore. That’s why we eat separate meals, everyone cooks for himself. I give money to pay for utilities. And everyone buys his own groceries for himself.
My husband is shocked, and I sit and think: why, in fact, do I need such a husband?
