Todd, my husband, turned 35, and I had planned a fancy dinner for him. But just before the guests came, he skipped the party to watch the game at a bar. What did you do next?
To put it simply, I won. After six years of marriage, you’d think Todd would learn to be thankful, but he hasn’t. I would throw my whole heart and soul into his birthday every year, but he would never notice.
But this year, he felt even more entitled than usual. Six years. That’s how long I’ve been married to Todd.
It’s not all bad in our relationship, don’t get me wrong. Todd can be very nice when he wants to, and we’ve had a great time together. There is one thing about him, though, that really angers me.
His right to it. Let’s look at last Thanksgiving. Todd came up with the great idea of having a dinner for both of our families.
He said it at breakfast one day with a big grin, as if he had just fixed the world’s hunger problem. “Claire,” he said, “I believe we should host Thanksgiving this year.”
I said, “Okay.” “That sounds good.”
Todd played fantasy football for two weeks while I planned and got ready. I roasted the turkey, made side foods, and even baked two pies for the big day.
And Todd? He brought the cooler full of beer into the living room. That’s it.
As everyone talked about how great the food and decorations were after dinner, Todd thought it was time to take the lead on everything. He said, “I’m glad you all love it.” “This year I wanted it to be different.”
I guess he didn’t notice me. That’s all there is to say about Todd.
He doesn’t want to do anything but want credit. It showed me that he wasn’t the man I was in love with anymore. Then it was his 35th birthday.
The last blow. Todd told me about his plans while we were having dinner. He told Claire, “This year for my birthday I want a big, fancy dinner.” “Get my family, my friends, and everyone else to come.”
I gave them a raised look.
“Are you telling me to plan it?”
He said, “Well, yeah.” “You’re good at this.” Please just make it nice, okay? I don’t want to look bad in front of everyone. “Sorry?” I said again.
“Okay, don’t go too far or anything.” “Keep it classy.”
I really didn’t want to agree, but I did so I could give him another chance. It was his birthday, so I wanted to make it extra special, even though he didn’t deserve it. I worked hard over the next two weeks to plan Todd’s “big, proper birthday dinner.” I would give him classy if he asked for it.
I would always tie my hair back when I got home from work and then get to work cleaning, sorting, and getting ready. To make sure everyone had a spot, I even asked our neighbor Janice for extra chairs and a folding table. What did Todd add?
Not a single thing. He took off his shoes and sat down on the couch one night, saying, “I’m swamped at work.” “But you got this, honey.” “You’re good at these things.”
Are you good at these things? I was so worn out I almost cried.
I almost snapped, but I smiled and said, “Yeah, I got this.”
The party day had finally come. I got up early because I was determined to do a great job. There was no dirt in the house.
Covers that matched and little name cards that I had written by hand were on the table. The starters were getting cold, the main meals were cooking, and edible gold flakes were on top of the cake. I did go that far.
On his way into the kitchen around noon, Todd looked at his phone as he always does. He didn’t even look at the meal I made for him. He shut the fridge door and said, “Looks good.” He then said, “But hey, uh, don’t bother finishing all this,” as if it weren’t a big thing.
“What do you mean?”
“Instead, I’m going to the bar with the guys to watch the game.” Stop everything. Tell everyone what happened. “You’re not going to your birthday dinner?” I asked.
“This has been in the works for weeks, Todd!”
He shook his head and said, “It’s not a big deal, Claire.” “Call everyone and say something like, ‘We’re busy,’” “They’ll get it.”
“Todd, you can’t do this!” He had already left when I yelled. It broke my heart. I put everything I had into this dinner, but he left like it was nothing.
Throw everything out? After all the work I did? But what hurt me the most was how ashamed I felt.
How could he be so mean to me? How could he ignore everything I did as if it didn’t matter? I looked at the table while the candles flickered in a mean way.
Claire, is this how much you’re worth? I asked myself. Are you okay with Todd treating you this way?
Not at all. This is not possible. That’s when I chose not to cancel the dinner.
He can’t make me feel bad again. It would be okay for Todd to act like a spoiled brat, but I would make him see what “embarrassing” really means. He didn’t know who he was joking around with.
I took out my phone and texted all the guests:
There’s still a party! Plans have changed. Come meet us at the bar on the main street near where we live.
Bring something to eat! After that, I went to work. The food was all packed up and put in the car.
After that, I went right to the bar Todd had told me about. The place was already very noisy when I got there. I turned around and saw Todd sitting with his friends at a table, his back to the door.
He had no idea that I was there at all. “Uh, ma’am?” Could I help you?” The bartender asked with wide eyes when he saw the food trays I was bringing. I gave him the nicest smile.
“Oh, I’m just getting together with some nice people to share a meal.”
I chose a table by the bar where I could see Todd’s group clearly and started setting out dish after dish. Everyone quickly paid attention when they smelled the food. People in the area strained their eyes to see what was going on.
Some people looked at the feast I was putting up and asked, “What’s this about?”
My voice was just loud enough to be heard across the room. “Oh, this was supposed to be the birthday dinner for my husband.” I asked myself, “Why let all this food go to waste?” when he left me and came here. A few people even clapped, and the room was filled with murmurs and laughing.
That’s when Todd finally saw me and turned around. He rushed over right away while his friends were talking quietly to each other. “Claire!” Are you crazy?
What are you doing?” He hissed and looked nervously back and forth between me and the growing crowd. I didn’t seem to notice him. Instead, I spoke to the group of customers who were closest to me.
“Do you like ham?” Do something! “There will also be cake.”
Todd was about to say something else when the front door opened and his parents, my parents, his sister, and our cousins came in. First they looked at us, then at the food, and finally at everyone eating at what was meant to be a fancy dinner.
Todd’s mom walked right up to him, which I thought was very honest. “Todd, what’s wrong?” Claire told us to meet here for dinner on your birthday, but why is she doing that in a bar? Todd looked like he wanted to fall through the floor.
“Uh, Mom, it’s complicated,” he said in a low voice. “Oh, I’d love to explain!” I stepped in. “Todd chose to watch the game with his friends instead of the dinner he’d asked me to plan.” I brought him dinner because of this!”
His dad just shook his head.
He said in a low voice, “How disrespectful.”
At the same time, my mom picked up a plate and said, “The food smells great.” “Let’s eat!”
We soon joined the other customers and ate the feast I had worked so hard on. What about Todd’s friends? Still making fun of him, they told him they would never forget that day.
The bar felt like a real party by the time I brought out the cake. I had written on top of the cake in big letters made of frosting:
Happy birthday to my selfish husband! People in the bar laughed out loud when I read
