After six years of marriage, I’d had enough of Todd’s selfishness. When he demanded an elaborate birthday dinner then bailed to watch sports with friends, I saw red. All those late nights preparing, the careful planning – dismissed with a casual “just cancel it.”
So I didn’t cancel. I upgraded. Loading all the food into my car, I crashed his boys’ night with the fanciest bar buffet they’d ever seen. The look on his face when I walked in carrying silver platters? Worth every minute of preparation.
Our families arrived to find Todd’s abandoned birthday feast being served to random bar patrons. His mother’s disappointed glare spoke volumes. The pièce de résistance? The cake I’d toiled over, now reading “Happy birthday to my selfish husband” for all to see.
The aftermath? A humbled husband who finally understands the value of my efforts. Sometimes you have to fight fire with a five-course meal served in the most embarrassing location possible.
