You ask how I ended up at this juncture in my life, and how I came to accept such circumstances. I suppose all women who truly love are blind. I certainly was. My whole life was spent striving, learning. My mother told me from the earliest days that if I wished for a comfortable life, I would need to work hard. She also counselled that a woman must always be strong and independent, so that, should anything befall her, she could look after herself.
That last bit of advice turned out to be quite the double-edged sword. When I met men, I acted overly independent: few ever wanted to date me. In those days, most Englishmen sought gentle women to dote upon, women to bolster their pride and masculinity. Meanwhile, I was busy taking care of myself.
Eventually, I poured myself entirely into my career. I remained unmarried well into my thirtieswhat folks used to call a spinsteruntil I met David at age thirty-five. He was the same age as me. What surprised me most was how he accepted my independence. He never insisted on helping, never forced his way into matters if I said I wanted to handle them alone. He never came bearing roses or whispered meaningless sweet nothings at my ear, which I always found intolerable. With David, I felt I had an equal partner. I should have realised that this so-called equality was, in truth, not quite equal at all.
We married, and he moved in with me. David had never secured his own flathed always lived with his mother. I certainly wasnt keen on living with a mother-in-law; Id heard enough tales and wanted none of it. In the first month, David didnt give me any money from his salary, claiming he was repaying a small loan hed taken for his mothers surgery.
I said nothing. I tried to be understanding. We were a family, after all; let him settle the debt, and then we could work things out together. But for seven months, he still hadnt repaid the loan. He kept saying his wages were too low, that his hours had been cut, and so forth. All the while, I was footing the bill for groceries, outings, and household bills. Soon after, he told me he was saving up for us to buy a cottage in the countrysidefor holidays, he said.
Yet for five years, he showed me not a single bank statement. We were meant to be a family. At last, I confronted him. How could I be supporting him for five years? It wasnt right. He packed his things and went straight back to his mothers house. Just like that. After three days, unable to bear the solitude, I brought him home again. And so, the same story returned. He wouldnt give me a pennynot for food, nor bills, nor anything. I was utterly exhausted. I yearned to treat myself to little indulgences, but there was nothing left over; all my earnings went to the family. What am I to do? Should I seek a divorce? Will he ever truly change?
