I thought I was being a good wife, throwing a festive dinner for my husband Todd’s 35th birthday. But just as the guests were about to arrive, he told me he was ditching the party to watch the game at a bar. What happened next? Let’s just say, I got the last laugh.
You’d think six years of marriage would teach someone a little gratitude, but not Todd. Every year, I’d pour my heart and soul into his birthday, only for him to take it all for granted.
This year, though, his entitlement hit a whole new level.
A man standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Six years. That’s how long Todd and I have been married.
Don’t get me wrong, our relationship isn’t all bad. Todd can be charming when he wants to be, and we’ve had some wonderful times together. But there’s one thing about him that drives me absolutely up the wall.
His entitlement.
Take last Thanksgiving, for example. Todd had this brilliant idea to host a dinner for both of our families. He announced it at breakfast one day, grinning like he’d solved world hunger.
Breakfast on a table | Source: Pexels
“Claire,” he said, “I think we should host Thanksgiving this year.”
“Okay,” I replied. “That sounds nice. How are we dividing up the responsibilities?”
He waved me off like I’d just asked him to do a headstand.
“Oh, you’re so much better at that stuff,” he said. “I’ll handle… I don’t know, drinks or something. Just make it memorable, alright?”
I should’ve known better, but I went along with it.
For two weeks, I planned and prepped while Todd played fantasy football and occasionally asked me, “You need me to pick up anything?”
A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
On the big day, I roasted the turkey, whipped up sides, and even made two pies.
And Todd? He carried the cooler of beer into the living room. That’s it.
After dinner, as everyone raved about the food and decor, Todd decided it was time to take credit for everything.
“Glad you all love it,” he said. “I wanted it to be special this year.”
I thought I’d misheard him.
“Oh, really?” I asked. “What part did you want special? The green bean casserole or the centerpiece?”
A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney
He ignored me, of course.
And that’s Todd in a nutshell. He wants the credit without lifting a finger.
Then there was last year on his birthday.
I spent weeks creating a customized photo album, filling it with pictures from our travels and special moments together. I couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he unwrapped it.
But when he was done flipping through the pages, he just said, “Oh. So, where’s the real gift?”
It wasn’t just his words that hurt. It was the sheer audacity.
A woman looking at her husband | Source: Midjourney
I’d married a man who once wrote me poetry, and now he couldn’t appreciate a heartfelt gesture. That moment shattered something in me.
It made me realize he wasn’t the man I’d fallen for anymore.
And then came his 35th birthday. The final straw.
We were having dinner when Todd casually told me his plans.
“Claire, I want a big, proper birthday dinner this year,” he said. “Invite the family, my buddies, everyone.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean you want me to plan it?”
A woman in her house | Source: Midjourney
“Well, yeah,” he said. “You’re good at this stuff. Just make it decent, alright? I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of everyone.”
“Decent?” I repeated.
“Yeah, just don’t go overboard or anything. Keep it classy.”
You see the entitlement here? See the way he thinks he deserves a birthday party while knowing how he’d hurt me with his words last time?
Honestly, I didn’t want to agree, but I decided to give him another chance. After all, it was his birthday, and I wanted to make it special even if he didn’t deserve it.
A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
For the next two weeks, I threw myself into planning Todd’s “big, proper birthday dinner.” If he wanted classy, I’d give him classy.
I drafted an impressive menu that had spinach-stuffed chicken, rosemary potatoes, a charcuterie board with cheeses I couldn’t pronounce, and a three-layer chocolate cake that would be the pièce de résistance.
Every day after work, I’d come home, tie my hair up, and get to work cleaning, organizing, and prepping. I even borrowed extra chairs and a folding table from our neighbor, Janice, just to make sure everyone would have a seat.
Todd’s contribution? Absolutely nothing.
A woman cleaning the house | Source: Pexels
“I’m swamped at work,” he said one night, kicking off his shoes and plopping onto the couch. “But you’ve got this, babe. You’re good at these things.”
Good at these things? I was so tired I could’ve cried.
But instead of snapping, I smiled and said, “Yeah, I’ve got this.”
The day of the party finally arrived.
I woke up early, determined to make everything perfect.
A woman standing in the hallway | Source: Midjourney
The house was spotless. The table was set with matching linens and little name cards I’d handwritten. The appetizers were chilling, the main courses simmering, and the cake was decorated with edible gold flakes.
Yes, I went that far.
Todd strolled into the kitchen around noon, scrolling through his phone as usual. He barely glanced at the spread I’d laid out.
“Looks good,” he muttered as he opened the fridge to grab a soda.
“Looks good?” I repeated, half-joking but half-hoping he’d notice the effort I’d put in.
A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah,” he said, shutting the fridge door. Then, like it was no big deal, he added, “But hey, uh, don’t bother finishing all this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m heading to the bar with the guys to watch the game instead. Cancel everything. Tell everyone something came up.”
“You’re ditching your own birthday dinner?” I asked. “Todd, I’ve been planning this for weeks!”
“It’s not a big deal, Claire,” he shrugged it off. “Just call everyone and tell them we’re busy or something. They’ll understand.”
A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
“They’ll understand?” My voice rose. “Todd, people are already on their way! You told me to make this decent and now you’re leaving?”
“I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the guys,” he said, ending the conversation.
Then, he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the door.
“You can’t do this, Todd!” I shouted, but he’d already left.
I was so heartbroken. I’d poured my heart, soul, and savings into this dinner, and he just walked out like it was nothing.
A woman looking outside the window | Source: Midjourney
Cancel everything? After all the work I’d done?
But more than anything, I felt humiliated.
How could he treat me like this? How could he brush off all my efforts as if they didn’t matter?
I stared at the table while the candles flickered mockingly.
Is this what you’re worth, Claire? I asked myself. Is this how you’ll let Todd treat you? No. You can’t do this.
At that point, I decided I wouldn’t cancel the dinner. I won’t allow him to make me feel bad again.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
If Todd wanted to act like a spoiled brat, I’d let him, but not without showing him what “embarrassing” really looked like. He had no idea who he was messing with.
I grabbed my phone and sent a group text to all the guests:
Party’s still on! Change of plans. Meet us at the bar on the main street near our place. Bring your appetite!
Then, I got to work.
I packed all the food and loaded it into the car. Then, I drove straight to the bar Todd had mentioned.
A woman driving | Source: Pexels
When I arrived, the place was already buzzing with noise. I looked around and spotted Todd sitting at a table with his buddies, his back to the door. He was completely oblivious to my presence.
“Uh, ma’am? Can I help you?” the bartender asked with wide eyes after noticing the trays of food I was carrying.
I flashed him my sweetest smile. “Oh, I’m just here to share a meal with some people who’ll actually appreciate it.”
A woman standing in a bar | Source: Midjourney
I picked a table near the bar, in full view of Todd’s group, and began unpacking dish after dish. The aroma of the food quickly caught everyone’s attention. Patrons nearby craned their necks to see what was going on.
“What’s this about?” one man asked, gesturing toward the feast I was setting up.
I raised my voice just enough to carry across the room. “Oh, this was supposed to be my husband’s birthday dinner. But he decided to ditch me and come here, so I thought, why let all this food go to waste?”
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
The room erupted in murmurs and laughter, and a few people even clapped. That’s when Todd finally turned around and spotted me.
He immediately stormed over while his buddies murmured amongst themselves.
“Claire! What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, his eyes darting nervously between me and the growing crowd.
I didn’t even look at him.
Instead, I addressed the nearest group of patrons. “You like ham? Help yourselves! There’s cake coming too.”
A close-up shot of food in a plate | Source: Pexels
Just as Todd sputtered out another protest, the front door swung open, and in walked his parents, my parents, his sister, and our cousins.
They looked at us, then at the food, and then at all the people munching on what was supposed to be a formal dinner.
Todd’s mom, bless her bluntness, walked right up to him. “What’s going on, Todd? Claire said to meet here for your birthday dinner, but why is she serving food in a bar?”
An older woman | Source: Midjourney
Todd looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
“Uh, it’s complicated, Mom,” he muttered.
“Oh, I’d love to explain!” I intervened. “Todd decided that watching the game with his friends was more important than the dinner he demanded I plan. So, I brought the dinner to him!”
His dad shook his head. “How disrespectful,” he muttered.
Meanwhile, my mom grabbed a plate and said, “Well, the food smells amazing. Let’s eat!”
A woman in a bar | Source: Midjourney
Soon, both our families joined the other patrons and dug into the feast I’d worked so hard on.
And Todd’s friends? They were still laughing at his expense and told him they’ll never forget this day.
By the time I brought out the cake, the bar felt like a full-blown party. On top of the cake, in bold frosting letters, I had written:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SELFISH HUSBAND!
The bar erupted in laughter when I read it aloud, but Todd wasn’t too happy about that.
A man laughing | Source: Pexels
“Was this really necessary, Claire?” he muttered under his breath.
I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. “Absolutely.”
Once everyone was done, I started packing up the empty trays. That’s when the bartender stopped me.
“Ma’am, you’re a legend,” he said. “Drinks on the house if you ever come back. Without him, of course!”
I chuckled. “Thank you! I’ll definitely drop by sometime.”
The families didn’t stick around long after the food was gone. My dad gave me a proud nod as he left, while Todd’s mom told him he could’ve done better.
An older woman speaking to her son | Source: Midjourney
As we drove back home, Todd kept muttering about being “humiliated.” Once we were back, he protested even more.
“Claire, you humiliated me in front of everyone!” he said, throwing his hands in the air.
“No, Todd,” I shot back. “You humiliated yourself. And for the record, don’t expect another homemade meal anytime soon.”
He knew he couldn’t argue with me at that point. He just turned around and stormed off to the bedroom.
A doorknob | Source: Pexels
It’s been two weeks since that night, and I kid you not, Todd has changed. Well, mostly.
His unrealistic demands have dialed down, and he’s been unusually polite, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll pull another stunt like that. He hasn’t apologized outright for ditching me, but his sheepish behavior says enough.
I guess now he knows I’m not the kind of wife who’ll roll over and take his nonsense anymore. If nothing else, that’s a win in my book.
A woman standing by a window | Source: Pexels
What would you have done if you were in my shoes?
3 Incredible Stories of Wealthy Individuals Who Dared to Live Like the Rest of Us!
Sometimes, people go to great lengths to find the right connections, and that’s exactly what happens in these stories. The wealthy characters in these tales wear cheap clothes, beg for money, and even pretend to be homeless to see the true nature of those around them. The results are surprising!
In these stories, our main characters deal with snobby rich parents who believe their daughters should only date rich men, wealthy guys who pretend to be nice just to win over wealthy women, and girlfriends who only want to marry rich men. Let’s dive into these intriguing tales:
1. My Son Wasn’t Good Enough for His Fiancée’s Parents Until They Found Out Who He Really Was
I’m Sam Sutton, and I invented an unbreakable engine sealant. I never thought it would affect my son Will’s love life. Suddenly, we had a lot of money, but I learned that money can’t buy everything.
There are two things money can’t buy: love and health. I found out about love the hard way when my wife, Rain, passed away, and I learned about health when Will grew up.
I raised my son alone after losing Rain. I made some mistakes, like spoiling him, but he turned out kind and loving. In high school, he became popular, but it was clear that people were more interested in my money than in him.
Will realized that the girls liked him for his wealth, not for who he was. One night, he came to me upset, saying, “Dad, the girl I love only cares about money.”
I told him to let her go, and he did. After that, he focused on genuine friendships.
One evening, he surprised me with a plan. “Dad, when I go to Yale, I want people to think I’m poor, like a scholarship student.”
I asked, “Why would you want that?”
He explained, “If people think I’m poor, they’ll like me for me.”
I thought it was a great idea. We got him second-hand clothes, and he went to Yale looking like he had nothing. The plan worked! Will made true friends and met a girl he really liked named Edwina, or Eddy for short.
By his third year, he was in love and ready to propose! I was worried he was too young, but he was certain. Eddy said yes, and everything seemed perfect… until he met her parents, Marta and Farlow.
They were wealthy and clearly disapproved of Will. When he visited for Thanksgiving, they barely hid their disdain. They didn’t want their daughter marrying someone they saw as a poor college student.
Eddy loved Will and insisted that we join them for Christmas. I later heard from Will that her parents were not happy about our invitation.
They agreed to let us come but secretly planned something else.
I decided to play along.
We took a Greyhound bus to their beach house in Narragansett, and I wore old, second-hand clothes. When Farlow picked us up, he looked at me like I was homeless.
During the visit, he bragged about his wealth, trying to make me feel small. But I stayed quiet, even when they gave Will a brand-new Porsche as a wedding gift on Christmas Eve. Farlow seemed to think he had won.
Then I pulled out an envelope and said, “Will mentioned you two are moving to New York. I hope this helps.”
Farlow laughed, “What is that? A list of shelters?”
Eddy opened the envelope and gasped. “Sam… is this real?”
Will hugged me, and Eddy turned to her parents. “Sam has given us the deed to a brownstone in Tribeca.”
Marta and Farlow were stunned. “But… you’re poor…” Farlow stammered.
I smiled and said, “I wanted my son to be loved for who he is, not for the $570 million he’ll inherit.”
After that, Farlow and Marta became Will’s biggest fans. My son and Eddy got married that summer. When they had a daughter, Rain, three years later, I bought the house next door to be close to them and help with my wonderful granddaughter.
2. I Thought I Was Marrying the Man of My Dreams Until I Saw His True Colors When Faced with Poverty
When my parents introduced me to Walter, I wasn’t excited about the arranged meeting. But when I saw him, I was stunned. He stood up in a sharp suit, his blue eyes shining in the dim restaurant light.
He smiled warmly and helped me into my seat, making my heart race.
“Ava, this is Walter,” his mother said proudly.
My mom, Hilda, nudged me and whispered, “What do you think?” I could feel myself blushing.
At first, I was unsure about this meeting, but Walter quickly changed my mind. He was kind, attentive, and everything I hadn’t expected.
A few weeks later, he proposed with a diamond ring, and I happily said yes!
We were set to marry in a week, and my parents loved him!
As the wedding day approached, I was overjoyed. One day, while shopping for my wedding dress with my friend Hillary, I overheard some women talking in the store. What I heard shocked me.
“Did you hear Walter, the blue-eyed playboy, is getting married?” one whispered.
“I heard his parents found him a millionaire’s daughter,” the other added.
I tried to brush it off. There are many Walters out there, and I didn’t want to believe my Walter was part of their gossip. But doubts crept in.
Later that day, as I drove to Walter’s house, I saw a group of homeless people and overheard one say, “That rich guy in the red car splashed water on us. It’s not even his money; it’s his parents.”
That hit me hard.
Could they be talking about Walter? I didn’t want to believe it. When I arrived, I heard him yelling inside.
“Get them out of here! I want them gone!” he shouted into the phone.
When he saw me, he softened his tone. “I was just making sure some homeless folks had shelter in this rain,” he explained.
I wanted to believe him, but something felt off.
That night, I couldn’t shake my doubts, so I called Hillary and told her my plan.
“I need to see who Walter really is,” I said.
To find out, I spent a few days with him. He seemed generous in public, but I decided to dig deeper.
I hired an actor, Joe, to pretend to be a homeless man at Walter’s favorite café. I wanted to see how my fiancé would react.
Hillary and I sat in disguise, watching closely.
At first, he seemed nice, paying for the man’s meal. But then Joe “accidentally” spilled coffee on Walter’s fancy sweater. Walter’s smile faded, and though he said, “It’s no big deal,” he looked angry.
What I didn’t realize was that he had spotted me and knew I was watching, so he pretended to be kind. After leaving the café, he took Joe outside.
But once they were out of sight, he grabbed Joe by the shirt. “If you say anything to Ava, you’ll regret it,” he hissed, then stormed off.
Joe ran away, leaving me unsure if Walter was really bad.
A few days later, two women approached me at a boutique. One looked serious and asked, “Are you the woman marrying Walter?”
I replied, “Yes, and I love him. Why do you care?”
“Don’t marry him. He’s not who you think he is,” she warned before leaving.
I hesitated to follow them but they were gone. I brushed it off but felt uneasy.
Eventually, I decided to test Walter one last time. When he arrived at the fancy restaurant, I was outside in disguise as a homeless woman.
When I approached him and begged for help, he smiled but barely acknowledged me. He reluctantly handed me some money before walking away.
Feeling guilty, I followed him inside to apologize. But when I grabbed his arm, he turned around and slapped me!
“I’m a woman!” I stuttered, shocked by his sudden anger.
“How dare you follow me?” Walter shouted. “I hate your kind!”
When I revealed myself, his face went pale. “Ava? What are you doing?”
“I see you for who you really are now, Walter. The wedding is off.”
Months later, my parents introduced me to another man named Brandon. He seemed charming and well-mannered. But I was cautious now.
As he smiled and introduced himself, I smiled back, already planning how to handle this one. I wouldn’t be fooled again.
3. When I Proposed to the Girl of My Dreams in a Shabby House, She Showed Me Her True Colors
I grew up in a sad home. My mother married my father for his money, and after having me, she moved on. I watched how heartbroken my dad was, knowing the woman he loved didn’t care about him.
She wanted luxury while he wanted love, and I vowed to never let that be my life. I would never marry a gold digger.
fter studying abroad in England and Australia, I returned home with no real connections. My mom had remarried and never contacted me, and I had just my dad and grandmother, which was fine.
No one knew I was Danton Hardy’s son, the heir to Hardy Industries, and I wanted to keep it that way.
One night, I said to my dad, “I was thinking, how about I start working at the company?”
His face lit up. “That’s great! You can start as vice president of marketing!”
But I shook my head. “No, I want to start from the bottom. Don’t tell anyone who I am. Just hire me as an intern.”
He looked doubtful. “You know the pay’s not great, right?”
“That’s fine. I can live at home,” I laughed.
So, I bought a modest second-hand car and got a few thrift-store clothes to start as a marketing intern. I loved it! I made friends, including Cynthia, another intern who became my best friend.
One day, while jogging, I bumped into a girl who spilled her coffee all over me.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she said, her eyes wide.
“It’s okay,” I stammered, blushing.
She introduced herself as Heather, and we chatted about life and dreams. I found her so interesting and beautiful that I wanted to see her again.
I worked up the courage to ask her out, and to my surprise, she agreed!
Our first date was simple but perfect. We went to a taco truck, where we shared laughs and talked for hours. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to connect with her.
A few months later, I decided to propose. I knew I wanted it to be special but also wanted her to know my love for her was real.
I found a small, beautiful ring I could afford and planned the perfect evening. I wanted to propose in my grandmother’s old house, a place filled with memories of my past.
That evening, I picked her up, and as we walked to the house, I felt nervous but excited.
“I have something special for you,” I said, leading her inside.
As I opened the door, she gasped. I had decorated the space with fairy lights and flowers, creating a magical atmosphere.
“What’s this?” she asked, amazed.
I dropped to one knee and said, “Heather, will you marry me?”
But instead of the joy I expected, her face changed. “In this dump?” she exclaimed, looking around in disbelief. “You expect me to marry you here?”
I was heartbroken. “I thought you’d like it because it’s special to me,” I said, my voice trembling.
“No offense, but I deserve better,” she replied, turning her back on me and storming out.
I was crushed. I realized that all those nights of laughter and connection meant nothing to her. She wanted the flashy life I’d avoided.
Days later, my dad found me sulking at home and asked what was wrong. I explained everything, and he nodded. “Ava, people like that show their true colors when faced with hardship. It’s a blessing you found out now.”
After a few weeks, I decided I would show her. I called her up and asked to meet.
“Listen, Heather, I’m going to make my name mean something,” I said, planning to reveal everything.
I worked hard at my dad’s company and became known for my marketing skills. My dad believed in me and started trusting me with projects. He saw my dedication and love for my work.
Within a year, I helped double the company’s profits, and I finally revealed my true identity to my coworkers.
When I went to my childhood home for lunch with my dad, he smiled proudly. “You’ve done it, Ava.”
After that, I decided to throw a launch party for our new project. I invited everyone, including Heather.
When she showed up, I wore a tailored suit and greeted her.
“Wow,” she said, looking at me in shock.
“Welcome to my world, Heather,” I said, smirking.
She stuttered, “You look… different.”
I shrugged. “You said you deserve better. Well, I’m better now. Enjoy the party.”
As the night went on, I heard her whisper to a friend. “He’s changed.”
I chuckled, realizing I’d dodged a bullet.
Later that night, a woman named Jamie approached me. “You did great tonight. I love your vision for the company.”
I smiled back. “Thanks. I’m just getting started.”
We exchanged numbers, and as I walked away, I realized I’d found someone who appreciated me for who I truly was—not just my name.
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