Henry, my husband, and I recently got married, embarking on this new chapter later in life as we focused on our careers first. Sure, it was later in life because we were those people who wanted to work on our careers before even thinking about family life. My husband is a successful engineer, and I am a pediatrician — suffice it to say, my experience with crying babies has convinced me that I did not want my own.
Anyway, I thought getting into a marriage later would mean there would be less to worry about because people my age would know who they are and what they want, but I was so wrong. It turns out that even in their 40s people can reveal entirely new aspects of themselves.
Yesterday was my 40th birthday, so to celebrate, Henry suggested we have a birthday dinner after work, inviting my parents since they live nearby. Usually, our date nights meant pizza and a movie at home because we would be so exhausted from work.
So, this was new and great. Henry told me he made reservations at one of the fanciest restaurants around — somewhere we always wanted to go, but we just never had the time. Everything was going great until it was time to pay the $1,100 bill.
It wasn’t a shock; we knew where we were and the price that came with it. But what happened next really shocked me. Henry, with a straight face, turns to me and smiles, saying:
“Hey, Darling, it’s your birthday, so I thought you would pay. I didn’t bring my wallet.”
He ran his finger across his empty plate, getting the last bit of sauce. Other than the chatter of diners around us, it was silent. My parents and I were floored. My father, visibly upset, said to Henry, “Shame on you. You invited us to dinner for Nora’s birthday. You can afford to do it, don’t get me wrong, but how can you not pay for your wife’s birthday dinner?”
My husband just grinned awkwardly, utterly oblivious to our discomfort, while dad continued, “Did you even buy her a birthday present, or did you expect her to do that too?”
I was too shocked by Henry to defend him. And I couldn’t even answer my father, because my husband didn’t get me a birthday present — I thought this dinner was the present. “Henry, this is embarrassing,” I said after a moment.
I didn’t want to retaliate, but the more he sipped on champagne, the more irritable I got. I questioned, “Why did you make such a big fuss about my birthday if you expect me to pay for it all? I don’t mind because it was dinner with my parents, but you embarrassed us both at the end of the day?”
Still, Henry said nothing while my parents exchanged glances, clearly appalled. I paid the bill with a deep sigh, and when we left, I felt disappointed and humiliated. This was precisely what my parents warned me about — they were glad when I finally met Henry, but leading up to the wedding, they warned me about being with someone who would use me.
I confronted Henry about his thoughtless behavior when we got home, telling him, “It’s not about the money. It’s about the principle.” But he dismissed it, claiming that he left his wallet on his bedside table when we rushed out of the house.
He said that he didn’t think I would mind covering the bill. There was no remorse whatsoever. He showed absolutely no understanding of what I felt about it all. The dinner incident had become a turning point, making me reassess our relationship’s dynamics.
Henry attempted an apology this morning, but the damage was done. This birthday has undeniably become a pivotal moment. It feels like I married a stranger. The original poster concluded by asking for any advice or similar experiences from readers.
