My husband has a job, but I pay for everything.
You ask how I ended up here, how I allowed my life to reach this point, but the truth is, every woman who loves is blind. I was blind. My whole life, I tried, I worked, I learned. My mum used to tell me, ever since I was little, that if I wanted a good life, Id have to work hard for it. She also insisted that a woman should be strong and independent, so she could always stand on her own two feet if the need arose.
Funny, that last bit of advice came back to bite me cruelly. When I dated men, I was always a bit too independent, and most blokes werent keen on that. Back then, men wanted a softer sort of woman: someone to fuss over, someone to protect, someone they could show off their masculinity to. But I always looked after myself.
Work became my world. I remained single until I was 35, when I met Jonathan. Hes my age. What surprised me about Jonathan was that he accepted my independence. He never pressed me to let him do things for me or help out when I said I could manage myself. He never brought me flowers or whispered sweet, meaningless nonsensequite frankly, that always made my skin crawl. With him, I felt like an equal partner. I should have known how much that so-called equality would cost me, especially since it really wasnt equal at all.
We got married and Jonathan moved into my flat. He never had his own placehe lived with his mother in Croydon. And I didnt want to move in with my mother-in-law; Id heard enough dreadful tales to know that wasnt for me. For the first month, Jonathan didnt give me any money from his pay, saying he had to pay off a small loan he’d taken for his mums surgery.
I said nothing; I was understanding. Were family, I thoughtlet him clear his debts, then well work through everything together. But seven months passed, and that loan still wasnt gone. He always had some excuse: not paid enough, fewer hours, one thing or another. Somehow, it was always me paying for groceries, bills, and anything fun. Then he told me he was saving up to buy us a cottage in the countrysidea place for holidays, maybe.
Five years went by and I never saw so much as a bank statement. Were meant to be a family. Eventually, we had a fierce argument. How could I be supporting him for five years? Its not normal. He packed his things and went back to his mum’s. Just like that. Three days later, unable to cope, I brought him backand the same routine started all over again. He refuses to give me a single penny towards anything. Im exhausted. I long to spend money on womens little luxuries, but I havent got any spareeven that goes straight on our family.
What am I meant to do now? Get a divorce? Will he ever change?
