My husband said he was too busy to pick me up from the grocery store with my heavy bags—but then I caught him lending a hand to our attractive new neighbor as she moved in.

 

Last Saturday, I stumbled upon something unexpected. My husband Greg had told me he was “too busy” to pick me up from the grocery store with my heavy bags, but when I arrived home, I found him outside smiling and helping our attractive new neighbor, Emma, move boxes and suitcases. Rather than confront him immediately, I smiled, walked inside, and began formulating a plan to show him how his actions had affected me.

The day had started with trouble when my car began rattling badly, so I left it in the driveway and took an Uber to the store. I ended up buying a huge load of groceries, including a watermelon, gallon of milk, and heavy bags. With my arms aching, I called Greg to pick me up. He answered distractedly, telling me he was “too busy” and suggesting I take an Uber instead. After a long, exhausting walk home, I arrived to find Greg happily assisting Emma, laughing and carrying her boxes with ease. I was furious but kept quiet.

Once home, I unloaded the groceries while my mind raced with a plan. When Greg finally came in, he asked how my trip went. I replied, “Fine,” and casually mentioned the car still making noise. He brushed it off, saying he’d get to it later.

The next day, while Greg slept in, I called our retired mechanic neighbor James, who agreed to come over and look at the car. When Greg came outside, he saw James and looked confused. James explained the car might have a timing belt issue, and Greg mumbled that he could have done it himself, but he was too busy.

Later, I made sure Greg noticed I wasn’t relying on him for anything. I changed a lightbulb myself, took out the trash, and casually mentioned how helpful other men had been. Each time, Greg’s frustration grew. Finally, after dinner, I told him that James had offered to mow the lawn if Greg was too busy. That was the breaking point. Greg exploded, asking why I kept mentioning other men. I calmly replied, “Oh, I just realized—you had time to help Emma, but not to pick up your wife from the store?” His face turned pale as he stammered an explanation, but I pointed out he could have easily declined Emma’s request. When I sarcastically asked if he’d be just as “helpful” if Emma were 60, he had no answer.

I walked away, letting the silence speak for itself. Since then, Greg has been more helpful around the house. He now picks me up from the store, takes out the trash without being asked, and even fixed a leaky faucet. Sometimes, a little bit of their own medicine is all it takes for someone to realize what they have right in front of them.