30 Times People Criticized Their Partners And Had A Price To Pay

The wife of a couple i know was married once before. He ex was a real prick and would get drunk and beat her. One day she cooked him a stroganoff from a jar. What she didn't realise was the jar had been opened and the sauce gave him food poisoning and put him in hospital for four days. The next time he beat her, she went and bought a jar, opened the lid and put it back in the cupboard.

My friend's husband and sons used to make fun of her cooking. After a while, she refused to cook.

Her husband is an excellent cook.

My wife one day got pissy about how I was doing the dishes, while doing them. I stopped, poured a beer and went to watch TV without saying a word.

She hated doing the dishes the next week but she apologized eventually

There's a GREAT story about the beginnings of a marriage and now the tone was set.

A woman in the Midwest got married some time in the nineteen-forties, guessing from the context. After the wedding, the bride took her new husband's hand and said, "We are married. I am your wife. There are some things I won't put up with."

"If you ever raise a hand to me, one night when you are sleeping I will sew you* into the sheets and beat you to death with a frying pan."

The rest of the story is this, told by a grandchild: "Grampa was always the kindlest, gentlest man I ever knew."

*The asterisk is to tell you I recognize that this is a slightly archaic activity and you may not have heard of it. It has to do with creating clothing out of cloth.

This reminds me of a story my mom tells me about when her and my dad got married.

She was raised on a farm and got used to her mother making all meals from scratch, including homemade chicken soup.

She decided that night that they would have homemade chicken soup. She got everything together the way that her mother would and cook the soup just the way that my grandmother would. But she did not know that you are supposed to skim the fat off of the top of the soup and remove the skin after it's done.

Like you said, it was a different time back then. Dad came home and did not think twice about the soup. He had learned how to cook from his mother so he would have known better, if he had thought to check. But in those days the husbands expected their wives to know how to cook and what needed to be done in the kitchen.

They both got very sick from the heavy amount of fat they consumed. They also decided to check after each other from that day forward to make sure everything turned out good.

My brother got married in 1971. He was miserable with his b*itchy narcissistic wife. They produced two kids. He kept himself extremely busy with working 2-3 jobs, and attending meetings most evenings.

He refuses to divorce her. But both of their kids got married, and soon after, divorced. He was puzzled as to why. I told him they never learned how to be married because he was never home.

Duhhh

They both got remarried. One is divorced again.

Kudos to you for getting out of a bad marriage, and not allowing your ego to keep you there.

My ex and I lived together for a couple months before we got married. She wanted to be a homemaker, so that's what she did: Quit her job a week before we got married. Okay, I'll try that. Get home from work, expecting a filling meal, and what did she prepare? A can of soup. One single can of tomato soup! This was supposed to feed Me, her, and her 3-year-old daughter???

I didn't yell or hit her. I just stood up, put together a couple grilled cheese sandwiches, gave one to the little girl, and kept one for myself. She asked where hers was, and I replied, "Well, since you think a bowl of soup is a meal, that's what you get."

Afterwards, I explained to her that I eat light during the day so I don't get weighed down by the food: when I get home from work, I'm starving. Likewise, a three year old needs more than just a small bowl of soup because she's growing and needs the extra variety. From then on, we generally had a 3 course meal for supper: Meat, Potatoes, and a veggie. (it was a bear trying to get her to buy fresh fruits and veggies: she only knew how to cook from a can)

I cook in my relation ship (cisM [me] married to a cisF [spouse]), the arrangement is I cook, she cleans. It is my responsibility to be mindful of how many dishes I make, and she tells me if the food sucks.

She had her grandmother's pierogi recipe that she want to to make for turkey day and it makes like 8 dozen wrappers, but only 4 dozen fillings. She got very upset when I asked about making a different filling to put some variety in them. I mean I felt like I was just trying to be creative with my solution to the problem but apparently I really hit a bad nerve.

I guess my point is, you need to know what your place in the dynamic is. Know when to push back, and know when to accommodate. But it should never feel one sided.

When I was first married, in 1974, we were sort of hippies. My husband had the trappings but underneath was a straight catholic boy. Always willing to help out domestically, as he was brought up by a widow in the 50's/60's and knew a woman's lot was hard.

One day he comes out with the phrase 'Husband Time" I just looked at him and said I only have one kind of time, "My name, Time". I nipped that sucker in the bud.

Flash forward, married for 47 years. He still thinks about husband time, I can tell, but wouldn't dare mention it...LOL.

In honor of the Holidays, imma share my story. I had worked 12 hour shifts all week, decorated the house, bought stupid toys the kids wanted and spent all day cooking festive meal (Turkey, sides, desserts, blah blah blah…) I was tiiiiiired. When I told my then husband I was tired, he said “I don’t know why you even bothered. Me and the kids would have been happy with grilled cheese sandwiches.”

A beautiful snow globe of a light bulb went off above my head. I gazed at him in wonder, and replied “For once, you are right. I don’t know why I bother either.” After that day, I packed up whatever sh!t I could fit in my car, took the kids and left. Fast forward 20 years and I still dislike Christmas.

Sincerely, Mrs. Grinch