They say pride comes before a fall. In my case, it came before a full-speed panic drive to the bakery after catfishing my own husband.
Here’s how it went down:
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Me: sends fake “say hi to your girlfriend Valerie” text as bread reminder
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Husband: “Who’s Valerie?”
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Me: smug “Got you to read it!”
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Husband: “But I’m literally with Valerie right now”
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Me: spits out coffee
What followed was the most stressful bakery visit of my life, complete with:
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Suspicious side-eye at every female customer
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Frantic Googling of “Valerie bakery” to jog my memory
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The slow-dawning horror of realizing I’d been outplayed
The punchline? My husband was safely at work the whole time, and “Valerie” was the sweet older lady who always gives free cookie samples to kids.
As I paid for my (delicious, fresh) sourdough, two truths became clear:
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My husband is a diabolical genius
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I will never live this down
Our marriage survives, but my pride may never recover. Next time? I’m just sending a normal grocery list.
