When I saw my husband helping our teenage neighbor move her boxes after stating he was “too busy” to pick me up from the grocery store, I didn’t yell or make a scene. I smiled, walked inside, and devised the ideal method to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.
Do you have the feeling that something is wrong but you ignore it because you don’t want to be that wife?
Yeah. That was me.
Until last Saturday.
When I pressed the gas pedal that morning, my automobile made a horrible creaking noise. I decided it was better to be safe than be stranded on the side of the road, so I parked it in the driveway and got an Uber to the grocery store instead.
I made a large grocery run.
My cart was overloaded with bags, and my back was already throbbing from reaching into the deep freezer aisle for Greg’s favorite buy-one, get-one frozen pizzas.
I had hefty bags, a gallon of milk, and, of course, I thought it was a brilliant idea to purchase a massive watermelon because it was on sale.
As I loaded the final bag into the cart, I realized how fatigued I was.
The notion of carrying all of stuff to a rideshare pickup point in the distant corner of the parking lot, then taking the Uber home made me want to sit right there on the store floor. So I did exactly what any wife would do. I called my spouse.
He answered after a few rings, sounding distracted.
“Hey babe, can you pick me up from the store? I went a little overboard and these bags are way too heavy,” I said, trying to sound sweet rather than desperate.
“Wait… where’s your car?” Greg asked.
“I didn’t want to risk it. It’s been making that weird rattling noise again, so I left it at home and took an Uber.”
“Ugh, Lauren, I can’t right now,” he said. “I’m swamped. Just take an Uber or something.”
“Seriously? It’s just a quick trip,” I said, feeling my jaw tighten.
“Babe, I said I can’t. I have a million things to do. Just take care of it, okay?”
Click.
I looked at my phone in surprise. Did he simply hang up on me?
Too busy? Too busy to take a five-minute drive? Whatever.
“Need some help?” asked an elderly gentleman as he walked by.
“No, thank you. I’ve got it,” I said with a forced smile, thinking about how my own husband couldn’t be bothered.
By the time I got home, my arms were sore, and my mood was foul. The Uber driver had been nice enough to help me get the bags from the cart to his car, but he wasn’t about to carry them into my house.
I didn’t blame him. That wasn’t his job.
It was my husband’s.
But what I saw next?
It sent me right from nasty to wrath.
I noticed Greg, my overworked husband, on the sidewalk.
Carrying suitcases.
Lifting hefty boxes.
Smiling like a chivalrous knight.
And who was he assisting?
Our new neighbor, Emma.
Emma was young and beautiful. Emma has just moved in three doors down. Emma’s moving truck, which I observed this morning as I was headed for the grocery.
I sat frozen in the Uber, watching the scene unfold. Greg was laughing at something
Emma had said. He lifted another box with ease, unconcerned that his wife had asked him to lift a few food bags.
Oh, Greg. I thought. You simply botched up.
I did not storm over. No, that would have been too easy. Instead, I took a big breath, collected my shopping bags from the Uber, and entered the house as if nothing had happened.
I needed a plan.
Oh, I came up with a nice one.
I unloaded the items while mentally improvising a plan.
“Hey,” he said casually. “How was the store?”
“Fine,” I replied, my voice steady. “Got everything we needed.”
“Did you manage with all the bags?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.
I bit my tongue. “Yep. The Uber driver was nice.”
I didn’t mention the neighbor.
Instead, as he walked past, I casually said, “Oh, by the way, the car’s still making that weird noise. Can you check it out tomorrow?”
“Yeah, maybe later this week,” he said while scrolling on his phone. “I’m slammed.”
Right, I thought.
I waited exactly one day before executing Step Two of my strategy.
The next morning, while Greg was still asleep (he slept late on Sundays), I contacted James.
James is our other neighbor. He’s approximately fifty, retired early from his work as a mechanic, and, unlike Greg, James never refuses to help his wife.
I’ve seen him carry her gardening equipment, repair items around their property, and even handle her pocketbook at the neighborhood block celebration. A true gentleman.
“Morning, Lauren! What can I do for you?” James asked cheerfully when he answered.
“James, I hate to bother you, but my car’s making a strange noise. Greg’s busy these days…” I let my voice trail off suggestively.
“Say no more! I’ll be right over to take a look.”
A few hours later, Greg walked out of the house, scratching his head. He froze when he noticed James in our driveway.
I stood next to James, talking, smiling, and twirling my hair.
Greg’s eyes furrowed as he approached us.
“What’s going on?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively.
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, James was kind enough to check my car since you were too busy.”
James looked up and waved. “Morning, Greg! Just helping Lauren out with this noise she’s hearing. Sounds like it might be the timing belt.”
Greg clenched his jaw. I could practically see the jealousy brewing, but he couldn’t say a thing.
Not when he was just bending over backwards for Emma yesterday.
“I could have looked at it,” Greg muttered.
“But you’re so busy,” I reminded him with an innocent smile. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“All good for now, Lauren, but you should get that timing belt checked at the shop soon. I can give you the name of my guy.”
“Thanks so much, James. I really appreciate it,” I said.
Perfect.
When the lightbulb in the living room went out, I fetched the stepladder from the garage and changed it myself rather than phoning Greg. That night, I made sure Greg knew that I was abruptly no longer asking him for anything.
“I would have done that,” Greg said from the couch.
“Oh, it’s fine. I know you’re busy.”
Instead of saying, “Hey, can you help me with this?” I started casually mentioning other men’s generosity.
“Oh, you know, the mailman helped me bring in that heavy package today. Such a strong guy.”
“The bagger at the grocery store offered to help with my groceries next time. Isn’t that thoughtful?”
“Oh, James texted to see if the car’s running better. He’s so attentive.”
After dinner, I casually mentioned, “James said if you’re too busy, he’s happy to mow our lawn this week too.”
That was the final straw.
“Alright, Lauren, what the hell is this about?!” Greg yelled.
I leaned back against the sink. “What do you mean?”
“Cut the act. You’re acting weird. What’s with all the ‘James this’ and ‘mailman that’? And since when do you change lightbulbs?”
“Since you became too busy to help me, I guess.” I shrugged.
“Is this about yesterday? About not picking you up from the store?”
I smiled, and then delivered the final blow.
“Oh, I just realized something interesting. You had time to carry Emma’s suitcases but couldn’t drive five minutes to pick up your WIFE from the grocery store?”
Greg’s face drained of color.
“What? How—”
“I saw you, Greg.” I crossed my arms. “Too busy for me, but not too busy for the new, young neighbor? Interesting.”
“Babe, it wasn’t like that—” he stammered.
“Oh? What was it like then? Explain it to me.” I raised my eyebrows, waiting.
“She just asked for help when I was getting the mail. I couldn’t say no.”
“But you could say no to me?”
“Lauren, come on. It’s not what you think.”
“I don’t think anything,” I said. “I just notice things.”
“She’s new to the neighborhood. I was being friendly!” Greg protested.
“Would you be equally ‘friendly’ if Emma was a 60-year-old man?”
Greg had no answer for that. He just sat on the couch and couldn’t meet my gaze.
“Oh, don’t worry. I get it now. It’s fine.” I waved my hand dismissively.
I stood up, walked over to him, and whispered, “But next time, Greg? Just know that I’ll remember exactly how busy you are.”
But I continued walking.
Since then, let’s just say Greg has somehow found time to help around the house again.
Last week, I requested him to pick me up from Target, and he arrived in under five minutes.
This morning, he noticed the trash was full and removed it without being asked.
Yesterday, he fixed the leaky faucet I mentioned briefly.
I’ve learned my lesson.
Sometimes it takes a little taste of their own medicine for guys to recognize what they have right in front of them.
Would you agree?
