‘She’s on My Maintenance, I’ll Kick Her Out If She’s Not Obedient,’ My Husband Said About Me during His Celebration
When Abby loses her job, she seeks comfort in her husband, Gregor, hoping he’ll stand by her until she’s back on her feet. But during Gregor’s birthday celebration, she discovers how little he truly values her—and she turns the tables in front of everyone.
I’m not usually one to share my private life online, but after what happened, I feel like my story might help someone else.
This is about the night my husband tried to humiliate me—and how I refused to let him.
I met Gregor in my forties. Marriage wasn’t on my radar anymore; after a toxic relationship in my thirties, I’d given up on the dream of a fairy-tale ending.
“Come on, Abby,” my mom would say. “It’s never too late to find someone.”
I’d just smile and shake my head. Deep down, I still wanted that connection, but I didn’t believe it was possible anymore.
Then Gregor came along—charming, thoughtful, and attentive. He made me feel like I’d finally found my person.
“I’ve waited my whole life for you,” he said, slipping an engagement ring into my hand with a bouquet of roses.
The first year of marriage felt like magic. We traveled, laughed until we cried, and built a life together. He was thriving as an executive, I loved my marketing job, and together we felt unstoppable.
But life has a way of shaking things up.
When my company went bankrupt, I was blindsided. Packing my things that day felt like failure. I’d always been independent, and suddenly I wasn’t.
“It’s okay,” I told myself, and when I told Gregor, he seemed supportive at first.
Then the cracks appeared.
“What? So now I’m the only breadwinner?” he said, rolling his eyes.
“It’s just for now,” I reassured him. “I’ll find something soon.”
I took a temporary job as a cleaner at a restaurant to keep us afloat. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work.
At first, Gregor didn’t say much, but over time, his comments grew sharper:
“Our friends are used to seeing you polished and successful, not in black slacks and an apron,” he said one night as he ate leftovers I’d brought home.
The man who once admired my drive now seemed embarrassed by me.
Months later, Gregor planned an extravagant 45th birthday dinner at an upscale restaurant, inviting everyone—family, friends, colleagues.
“So he can splurge on himself but complain about supporting you?” my mother sighed on the phone.
“I just want to enjoy myself,” I told her. “It’s my first weekend off in a while.”
That night, I was hopeful. I’d arranged black and silver balloons for the table and dressed up, ready to celebrate him.
The evening began beautifully—laughter, drinks, heartfelt toasts. Gregor’s sister, Natalia, raised her glass.
“You’re lucky to have Abby,” she said warmly.
For a moment, I felt seen.
Then Gregor stood, swaying slightly with a champagne glass in hand, and smirked.
“Oh, I know I’m lucky, Nat. But let’s be real—Abby’s lucky too. She’s basically on my maintenance now. If she wasn’t so obedient, I’d have kicked her out long ago. Shame, though—after all the money I’ve invested in her!”
His words dropped like a bomb. The table went quiet. A few nervous chuckles. But most people looked away, uncomfortable. My chest tightened, my ears burned.
Gregor laughed louder, expecting applause.
“Come on, that was funny!”
But in that moment, something in me snapped—not in anger, but in clarity.
I wasn’t going to sit there and be reduced to some obedient dependent.
I stood slowly, my hands steady.
“Well, Gregor,” I said calmly, my voice carrying across the table, “thank you for your speech. But since we’re talking about investments, let’s talk about yours.”
He froze, his smile faltering.
“You all might not know this,” I continued, “but the money Gregor used to book this restaurant didn’t come from his account. I saw the withdrawal from my own savings. I was going to overlook it because I thought we were a team.”
Gasps rippled through the guests. Gregor’s face turned pale.
“And, Gregor,” I added, “you and I both know the rest of the bill is still unpaid tonight. Correct?”
He stared at me, speechless, then gave a stiff nod.
“Correct,” he whispered.
“I have the rest of the money in my purse. I was ready to pay it, because I wanted you to have a great birthday.”
I let the silence hang.
“But you know what? I think I’ll just keep my money—and my dignity.”
Then I pushed my chair back, turned, and walked out.
I don’t know how Gregor paid for the rest of the night, and I didn’t care. I drove home, packed my clothes into my car, and went straight to my mother’s.
I will never, ever stay in a relationship where someone thinks love means control.
What would you have done?
