I Thought I Was Taking Control of My Life. Instead, I Threw It All Away.
Three weeks ago, I made a scene in front of fifty peoplemy husbands entire familyannouncing I was leaving him for a colleague. I didnt slink off in shame. I stood there and declared it.
It wasnt a rash choice. My husband had been jobless for eight monthsnot made redundant, but sacked for turning up drunk at his warehouse job. Again. He swore hed find work, but days were spent glued to his console while I pulled double shifts at the pub, barely covering rent and food.
Then there was my colleague, a barman who joined six months ago. Sharp, driven, actually owned his car instead of always borrowing mine. We chatted during quiet shifts. Then it became texts. Then late-night meet-ups.
One evening, in his flat, he looked at me and said, *”You deserve a proper bloke, not some waster glued to a screen.”*
I believed him.
The family reunion was at my mother-in-laws in Birmingham. The garden was packed with relatives, laughter, and rickety folding chairs. My husband bragged about some online game hed won. His cousin asked about job prospects.
*”Getting close,”* he lied. *”Got a few solid leads.”*
Thats when I snapped.
*”Actually, he hasnt sent a single CV in months,”* I said, standing. *”Im done covering for him. Im leaving for someone with a real job and ambition.”*
Silence. My husband went pale.
*”What the hell are you on about?”* he muttered.
No hesitation. *”Im talking about how youre a layabout who cant even pay for a loaf of bread. Ive found someone bettersomeone who actually earns his keep.”*
His sister gasped. His nan dropped her plate. My mother-in-law stormed over and slapped me square across the face.
*”Get out. Now.”*
*”With pleasure,”* I shot back, cheek stinging. *”Enjoy coddling your useless son.”*
I walked out with just my handbag. That night, I moved in with the barman. Posted online about my *”fresh start with a real man.”*
It lasted two months.
Turns out, he was also seeing the new waitress. And one of the kitchen girls. I walked in on them in his bed after an early finish.
*”You knew I wasnt the settling type,”* he said, like I was daft for expecting loyalty.
I had nowhere to go. My husband had changed the locks. My family said Id made my choice. The barman kept my half of the flat deposit.
Now Im at a roadside burger van. Minimum wage, no tips.
My husband landed a job with his mates building firm last month. Just posted a photo of his new van.
The slap mark faded, but I still feel it. That moment I thought I was so clever, so righteousburning everything down for a man who saw me as disposable.
Hes still behind the bar. Already has a new girlfriend. I flip greasy burgers and wonder if this is my comeuppance.
But did I really need to humiliate him like that? Or was I just being cruel? Pride makes fools of us all.
