Nnalu

My husband and I have been together for a few years. Before him I was with my ex for six years. We ended on decent terms. My parents still talk to him. Two weeks ago an invitation showed up with only my name on it—no plus-one. I told my husband I wanted to stop by for a little while. Said I was happy for him and it wouldn’t be a big deal. He told me he trusted me, but he wasn’t comfortable with it and would rather I didn’t go. I looked at him and said, “So you don’t trust me?” He said it wasn’t about trust. It was about what it would feel like for me to watch someone I spent six years with get married. I told him that was my feeling to have, not his. He said that was exactly why he was asking. I went quiet, then said, “You still follow your ex on Instagram and I’ve never said a word about it.” He was quiet for a second. He offered to unfollow her right then. I told him it didn’t bother me that he followed her. It bothered me that he was asking me to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself. In the end I decided not to go. I said it calmly, no argument. That night dinner was quiet, and every time the subject comes up he changes it. I’ve been sitting with it since. Was he asking for something reasonable, or did he just hand me his insecurity? And if you were in his place, would you have wanted me to stay home?

My friend (28) has never been in a relationship and still calls himself a virgin. He rang me just after midnight sounding terrified. Burning when he peed, itching, and he was convinced something was seriously wrong. I told him to get to a clinic first thing. He went. Results came back positive for an STI. He kept saying it was impossible. He’d never had sex with anyone. The doctor asked if he’d had intercourse recently. He said no. She asked if there’d been any partner at all. He said no. She asked about any other kind of intimate contact. He told her he’d only been to a bachelor party the weekend before and that nothing happened. She asked what actually went on in the private room. He said the guys had hired a dancer. He turned down “the full thing.” She looked at him and said, “Then what did you do?” He went quiet. Eventually he admitted there was contact, just not penetration. He’d been drinking, felt pressured, and in his head if it wasn’t full sex it didn’t count. He still saw himself as a virgin. He also said it wasn’t the first party where something like that happened, but he “usually stops it.” Later he told me he got so embarrassed he started oversharing details the doctor never asked for. When I told him to stop lying to himself and actually try dating, he said, “I know… but she added me after and messaged me. I haven’t turned her down yet.”

Me and my husband had one rule for the rent. Whoever’s paycheck landed first that month paid the full amount. The other kept theirs. For two years he never lost. Not once. I switched banks. I called payroll and begged them to push my deposit earlier. It never changed anything. His money still hit first every single month. Last month I finally beat him. My paycheck posted at 7:47 a.m. I paid the entire rent by 7:51 and sat there like I’d won something. At 6:08 he texted: “Can you reverse that?” I replied: “First one in pays. That was the deal.” He sent one word. “Okay.” Twenty-two minutes later the property manager called. “The lease and the portal are only under your husband’s name. He already paid this month’s rent yesterday from his own account. Your transfer is just sitting as a credit under him.” I looked over. He was on the couch eating cereal like nothing happened. “I never said it was a race,” he said, still chewing. “I just never corrected you.” I paid the $145 fee to get my money back. I’m done competing. Every morning there’s a sticky note on the coffee maker that just says: “Still first.”

Four years ago my husband told me his salary was $1,800 a month and that was all we had to live on. The truth was he was making closer to $4,000. He only gave me $1,100 a month and said the rest went to loans, insurance, and other bills. I believed him. I ran the house on that amount. I stopped buying clothes for myself except when something was completely worn out. I repaired old ones instead. I cooked the same simple meals over and over so they would last until the end of the week. When our son asked for something from the store I told him, “Save it for next month, baby.” If he asked why I never bought anything for myself I smiled and said, “We’re fine. The important thing is that you and the kids don’t go without. One day the school needed proof of income for a grant for our son. I called him and asked for a picture of his pay stub. He got quiet and said he would look into it later. That evening I found the printed documents on the table. His real salary was almost three times what he had told me. I looked at him and asked,

I was closing on a slow Friday. One of my regulars had been in my section all night, same beer, watching me the whole time. When he paid he slid the receipt over with a folded bill under it. I thought it was a regular tip until I opened it in the back. On the receipt he’d written: “After work. My car. Keep it either way.” I finished my side work, changed out of the orange shorts, and walked out. His car was parked near the side of the building, lights off. I got in. He didn’t wait. Door shut and he pulled me into the back seat, pushed my shirt up, and started sucking on my tits while he worked my jeans open. I’d been wet most of the shift from him staring. He got his cock out, rolled a condom on, and pulled me onto his lap facing him. I sank down and he grabbed my ass, bouncing me hard against him. The windows fogged up fast. Every time I tried to slow down he just thrust up harder and

I asked my manager for a raise. He looked at me and said, “You’re overestimating yourself. If you left today, we could replace you in a week.” I smiled. “I wish you the best.” Then I asked for Thursday and Friday off. He laughed and told me to take the whole week if I wanted—the work wouldn’t stop for anyone. Before I left I handed him a short file. Inside it: - The client that makes up 40% of our sales needs their contract renewed Thursday. Only I know the details. - A $180k shipment is stuck at customs. The only contact who can clear it is saved in my phone. - The monthly sales report management relies on pulls from a file I still update manually every week. He looked up and asked why I hadn’t trained anyone. I told him I’d asked for help more than once and was told my salary was just for doing the work, not for

I took one approved day off and my boss messaged me on LINE at 10 p.m. Friday: “Don’t ever come back.” I asked if he was joking. He sent another. “Taking leave during the busy season? Are you messing with me?” “Don’t ever come back.” I’d applied a month earlier. The system showed his approval. I even wrote the reason: wisdom tooth extraction. He had completely forgotten. I replied with one line. Understood. Monday I got the tooth pulled. My face swelled up. Tuesday morning he called at 7 a.m. I didn’t answer. He called again at 7:30. At 8 he messaged: “What are you doing? Come in now.” I wrote back: “You told me not to ever come back.” Read. No reply. HR called at 9:15 asking

Update on the guy who wanted to split rent 50/50 after asking me to move in: A week later he texted asking if we could “talk like adults.” I said sure. He showed up with another spreadsheet. This one had “shared living costs” on one side and “what I bring to the relationship” on the other. He had listed his higher salary, that he drives, and that he “handles stress better.” He said if I wanted him to cover more of the rent I needed to “balance it out” somehow I asked what that actually meant. He said maybe I could take on all the cooking and cleaning, or contribute more emotionally since he was the one “providing stability.” I told him I already had my own place, my own money, and I was the one who got asked to move. I wasn’t auditioning to earn basic rent. He got quiet and said his mom warned him about girls who move in and then act like the man owes them something. I said his mom isn’t the one living with him. I am. Or I was. He still doesn’t get why I left. He keeps saying he just wanted things to be “fair.” I keep saying fair isn’t asking someone to move in and then handing them a bill for existing in the apartment. Some people hear “partner” and immediately start calculating how not to give more than they get.

My landlord dropped my rent by four hundred dollars one month and told me not to ask. I didn’t. I figured I’d just gotten lucky. A few months later I ran into the woman across the hall. Same floor, same size place. She was paying seven hundred less than me. By the end of the week most of us were comparing leases in the group chat. None of them matched. We went to the landlord together. He didn’t argue. He just opened a folder and started reading the notes he’d written next to every name. Lost a spouse the year before. Raising a grandkid alone. Works two jobs. Always late but always calls. Can afford more. People got loud. Unfair. Playing favorites. He waited until it quieted down, then tapped the folder and said he wasn’t basing it on what anyone earned. He was basing it on what they were already carrying. Someone leaked the list a week later. Three people moved out. One said they were going to sue. The oldest woman in the building stopped coming down for her mail. I saw her sitting on the stairs one night with her page in her lap. The note next to her name was only four words: No one visits anymore. She left a month after that. The unit sat empty almost a year. Nobody wanted it once they knew what the discount had cost her.

In the ten months since our baby was born, my husband hasn’t done a single nighttime feeding or gotten up for the crying. He does so much housework during the day that I’ve mostly let it go. The other day I asked him straight if all the extra cleaning and cooking was his way of making up for never handling nights. He paused, then said he might get called a bad father for this, but he can’t actually hear the night crying. His eardrums are probably asleep too. Then he added that he wants me to pack everything into the daytime, when he’s awake—his eardrums included. It was pure nonsense. For now I’m just going with it.