"I joked that my husband could never protect me because he’s weak - he got up and left me"

My name's Wanda. I'm 34 years old, and I'm from Colorado. So here's the thing: I've always thought James and I had a pretty solid relationship.

He's 36, laid-back, and doesn't really stress about much, which is a nice balance to me because I can be a little, well, intense. That night, we were at one of his friend Mike's parties. James doesn't have a lot of friends, so when he actually wants to hang out with people, I make an effort.

I figured we'd go have a few drinks and leave after a couple of hours. It started off normal; the house was packed, and everyone seemed to know each other, which wasn't surprising since James had been friends with most of these people for years. I didn't know everyone, but that never bothers me.

I'm pretty good at blending in, and honestly, I kind of like being the center of attention when I'm in the mood for it. So while James was catching up with Mike, I mingled a bit. A few hours in, a group of us ended up in this circle just talking and laughing about random stuff.

At some point, someone brought up relationships—like how much do you trust your partner to have your back if things went sideways—It was all hypothetical, of course, but the question made me smirk. I looked at James, who was sitting next to me, quiet as usual, and before I even thought about it, I said something like, "Oh, I know James wouldn't be able to protect me; I mean, look at him. " It got a laugh—a big one—and I felt that little rush you get when you know you've said something funny, so I kept going.

I teased him about how he doesn't work out, how he can barely open jars sometimes, and threw in a joke about how we'd both be victims if someone tried to mug us because he'd just freeze up. People were dying laughing. Even Mike made a joke about James skipping leg day; like, it turned into this whole thing.

James didn't say anything, though; he just kind of sat there with this weird half-smile, like he didn't want to make it awkward, but I could tell he wasn't laughing. So, of course, instead of stopping, I doubled down. I pointed at his arms and said something like, "Seriously, though, he's got arms like a sixth grader.

No offense, babe. " People lost it again! I mean, it was funny, right?

And it's not like I was saying anything that wasn't true. But then, out of nowhere, James stood up—just like that—stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked out of the room. No explanation.

Nothing. At first, I thought he was just going to the bathroom or needed some air, but when he didn't come back after a couple of minutes, I realized he was gone—like Gone Gone. The mood in the room shifted immediately; people stopped laughing, and there was this awkward silence.

Mike looked at me and was like, "You okay? That was kind of harsh," which threw me off because, in my head, it was just a joke—a joke we've teased each other before. It's not like I broke some unspoken rule or something.

Still, I tried to play it off. I shrugged and said, "He's probably just tired or whatever; he's fine. " But inside, I was annoyed; like, what was his problem?

It's not like I was lying, and it's not like anyone there was going to think less of him. If anything, I thought I'd make him look good, you know, for being able to laugh at himself. I stayed at the party for a little while longer, but it wasn't the same.

People were polite, but the vibe was off, and I felt this weird mix of irritation and embarrassment. Finally, I said my goodbyes and called an Uber. When I got home, James was in bed pretending to be asleep.

I didn't say anything to him; I figured he'd get over it by morning, but the next day, things were different. He barely spoke to me. When he did, it was short and clipped, like he couldn't be bothered.

I asked him what his deal was, and he just looked at me and said, "You humiliated me in front of my friends. " That caught me off guard because, again, I didn't think it was that serious. I told him it was a joke, "James, don't be so sensitive.

" He didn't respond; instead, he just walked out of the room, and that's when I realized he wasn't going to let this go. When I woke up the next morning, James was already up, sitting at the kitchen table with his coffee. He didn't look up when I walked in, which immediately irritated me.

I mean, fine, he was upset last night, but this silent treatment thing wasn't going to work for me. "Morning," I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. No response.

He just kept scrolling on his phone like I wasn't even there. "Okay, are we seriously doing this? " I asked, sitting down across from him.

"Because if we are, let's just get it over with. " He set his phone down and finally looked at me. "Why would you think it's okay to humiliate me like that in front of my friends?

" His voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp. "Oh my God, James, are you still on this? It was a joke," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I wasn't trying to humiliate you. " "Well, that's exactly what you did," he snapped. "You made me feel like a fool in front of everyone.

You don't think I already know I'm not the strongest guy in the world? You didn't need to put it on display like that. " I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms.

"Okay, but you left me there, James. Alone. You're mad about—" A joke, but you thought it was fine to just walk out and leave your wife at your friend's house?

How is that okay? "I needed to get out of there," he said, shaking his head. "Do you have any idea how disrespectful you were?

You don't talk about your husband like that, Wanda, especially not in front of other people. It's like you were trying to embarrass me. " I let out a short laugh, more out of frustration than anything else.

"James, it was teasing! Everyone was laughing! It's not like I stood up and gave a speech about how you're a failure, and honestly, walking out like that didn't exactly prove me wrong.

You left me there to Uber home like some random person! What kind of man does that? " His face turned red, and I could see him clenching his jaw.

"You don't get it, do you? " he said, his voice louder now. "You don't respect me!

If you did, you wouldn't have said half the stuff you did last night. You wouldn't have kept going when you saw how uncomfortable I was. " I threw up my hands.

"Of course I respect you, James! But you didn't exactly act respectable last night, did you? A grown man doesn't just storm out and leave his wife behind because he's upset over a joke.

You could have pulled me aside and said something. Instead, you bailed, and now you want to lecture me about respect! " He stared at me for a long moment, and I could tell he was processing what I said.

Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right," he muttered. "I shouldn't have left you there.

That wasn't okay. " I raised an eyebrow, surprised he was actually admitting it. "Yeah, that's what I thought," I said, leaning forward.

"So maybe next time don't overreact to make things worse. If you had just talked to me, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. " He didn't say anything for a second, just looked down at his coffee.

"I just wish you'd think about how what you say affects me," he said quietly. "I'm not asking you to change who you are, just think about it. " I shrugged, not wanting to push it further now that he'd apologized.

"Sure, I'll think about it, but you also need to think about how you handle things. Deal? " He nodded, though he still looked annoyed.

I could tell this wasn't over for him, but for me, as far as I was concerned, the matter was settled. After our conversation, I felt pretty good. James apologized, which meant I'd won the argument, and as far as I was concerned, that was that.

Sure, he still seemed a little off, but he'd get over it; he always did. That's how our relationship worked. He'd get upset about something, I'd hold my ground, and eventually, he'd come around.

I didn't even have to think about it anymore. James wasn't exactly the take-charge type; I'd always been the one who kept things moving in our relationship, whether it was making plans, handling finances, or deciding what to watch on TV. He didn't mind.

If anything, I think he liked it that way. It's not like he ever fought me on it. So when I say I was the one in control, I'm not exaggerating.

That's just how we were, and it worked well. It worked for me. A couple of nights later, James told me he was going out for dinner with some friends.

"Mike and the guys," he said, like that was all the explanation I needed. I raised an eyebrow but didn't press him. I mean, I could guess what this was about—one of those guys' nights where they all get together and hash out their feelings over beers and burgers, probably talking about how awful I am and how James deserves better.

I wasn't stupid; I'd seen how they looked at me after the party, and honestly, I wasn't surprised. Guys like Mike and his crew always act like they're above drama, but they're just as bad as women when it comes to gossip. Still, I didn't say anything.

If James needed to vent to them, whatever. Let him. He'd come home, and we'd go back to normal.

But when he came back that night, something was different. It wasn't anything dramatic; he wasn't storming in with accusations or anything like that. It was more subtle.

He was quieter than usual, like he was lost in thought. When I asked him how dinner was, he just shrugged and said it was fine. "Just fine?

" I teased, trying to lighten the mood. "What, did Mike overcook the steak or something? " He gave me this small, almost forced smile and said, "No, the food was good.

Just had a lot on my mind. " That was weird for James. Normally, he'd tell me all about what they talked about, who said what, and which joke got the biggest laugh, but not this time.

This time, he just brushed it off and went to bed early, leaving me sitting there wondering what the hell was going on. Over the next few days, I started noticing more changes—little things at first. He didn't seem as eager to go along with my plans; like when I suggested we watch a movie, he said, "You pick, I'll just watch whatever," in a tone that felt more like he was annoyed than indifferent.

Or when I brought up our weekend plans, he casually mentioned that he might go hiking with Mike instead, which was not something he'd normally do. James wasn't a big outdoors guy. It wasn't just his actions either; it was his attitude.

He seemed more confident, maybe. I don't know how else to describe it—like he wasn't waiting for my approval before doing things. I wasn't used to it, and I didn't like it.

Not because I wanted to. . .

"Control him or anything? Okay, maybe a little, but because it felt like he was pulling away from me, like he was shutting me out, and I had no idea why. One night, I finally brought it up.

'You've been acting different lately,' I said while we were getting ready for bed. 'What's going on? ' He looked at me, and for a second, I thought he was going to deny it, but then he said, 'I've just been thinking a lot about us, about me, about what I want.

' That threw me off. 'What you want? ' I repeated, trying to keep my voice calm.

'What's that supposed to mean? ' He shrugged. 'Just that I've been letting things slide for too long.

I've been too passive, too whatever. I need to start standing up for myself more. That's all.

' I laughed, trying to play it off, but inside I felt this weird pang of unease. 'You make it sound like I've been running a dictatorship or something. Is this about the party?

Because we already talked about that. ' 'It's not just the party,' he said, looking me straight in the eye. 'It's everything.

' And just like that, the conversation shifted. It wasn't about one night or one joke anymore; it was about our entire relationship. For the first time, I realized he might not be okay with how things were.

For the first time, I started wondering if I was losing control. James came home from work one evening, and I could tell right away something was on his mind. He had that serious look, the one he gets when he's about to say something he's been rehearsing in his head for hours.

I didn't ask what it was, though; if it was important, he'd tell me—or at least that's how it usually went. We had dinner mostly in silence, and then just as I was clearing the plates, he finally spoke up. 'We need to talk.

' I sighed, already annoyed. 'Okay, what now? ' He didn't flinch at my tone, which was unusual.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. 'Why do you treat me the way you do? ' That caught me off guard.

'What are you even talking about? ' 'I mean the way you talk to me, the way you act like you're the only one who matters in this relationship. Do you even respect me?

' 'Wanda, honestly…' I rolled my eyes. 'Of course I respect you, James. You're my husband.

Why are you even asking me that? ' He shook his head, frustrated. 'Because you don't act like it.

You humiliated me in front of my friends, and when I tried to tell you how I felt, you made it about how I overreacted. You don't listen to me. You don't care what I want, and half the time it feels like I'm just here to be your punching bag.

' 'That's not fair,' I shot back. 'I wasn't trying to humiliate you. I told you it was a joke.

You're the one who made it into this big thing. ' 'Thing? ' Wanda, he said, his voice sharper now.

'This isn't just about the party; it's about everything. The way you talk to me, the way you dismiss me when I try to say how I feel. If you really respected me, you wouldn't treat me like this.

' I felt my face heat up. 'James, don't act like you're some perfect angel in all of this. You don't stand up for yourself; you let me handle everything.

And now you want to sit here and act like I'm the bad guy? Maybe if you stepped up more, I wouldn't have to take charge all the time. ' 'That's not an answer,' he said, cutting me off.

'Why did you even marry me if you don't respect me? Was it convenience because I was a safe choice, or was there something else? Because I'm starting to think I'm not the person you actually wanted to marry.

' I froze, the words hitting me like a slap. 'That's ridiculous,' I said quickly. 'You're twisting this into something it's not.

' 'Am I? ' he challenged, his voice rising now. 'Because the way you treat me doesn't feel like love, Wanda.

It feels like I'm just here, like I'm not enough for you, and maybe I never was. ' 'That's not true,' I snapped. But even as I said it, I could feel the cracks forming in my defense.

'You're overthinking this. You're letting your friends get in your head, aren't you? They've been filling you with this nonsense, and now you're trying to blame me for things that aren't even real.

' 'My friends didn't make me feel this way,' he said firmly. 'You did. They just gave me the push to say something, and I'm glad they did, because we can't keep going like this, Wanda.

This isn't healthy. It's not fair to either of us. ' I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair.

'Oh, so what's the solution then? Counseling? Divorce?

Are you just going to throw in the towel because I make a few jokes you don't like? ' 'This isn't about the jokes,' he said. 'This is about respect, about whether or not you even want to be with me.

Because right now, it feels like you don't. ' I scoffed. 'That's insane!

You're blowing this way out of proportion. ' 'No,' he said, his voice steady now. 'I'm asking for the truth.

Is there someone else, or is it just that I was never the guy you really wanted? ' The question hit like a gut punch, and for a second, I couldn't speak. My first instinct was to deny it, to lash out, but something in his tone stopped me.

He wasn't angry; he wasn't accusing; he was just done. I stood up, pushing my chair back with more force than I meant to. 'You know what, James?

Maybe your friends were right. Maybe this is a lost cause. You want…" To sit here and play the victim like you've been some perfect husband, but you haven't been; and maybe, just maybe, I'm not the bad guy here.

Maybe we're just not meant to be. He didn't say anything, just looked at me with this calm, almost resigned expression. For the first time, I realized he wasn't trying to win the argument; he was trying to figure out if there was anything left to fight for.

"What do you want to do? " he asked quietly. "Because I can't keep doing this, Wanda.

We either fix it or we walk away. " I didn't have an answer. For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to say.

James and I sat in silence for what felt like forever after his question: fix it or walk away. I wasn't used to him putting me on the spot like that. Normally, he'd back down, let me deflect, and everything would go back to normal.

But not this time. He was dead serious, and the weight of his words was hanging in the air between us. Finally, I sighed, trying to sound composed.

"All right, if you want to fix it, we'll try counseling. " His eyebrows raised slightly, and I could see he wasn't expecting me to agree so quickly. "Really?

" "Yes," I said, leaning forward and clasping my hands together like I was being sincere. "I don't want to throw this marriage away. If you think counseling will help, then let's do it.

" It wasn't a total lie. I didn't want a divorce; I liked my life, and James was a part of that. But the truth?

I figured this whole thing was just a phase. He was feeling himself after that little pep talk from his friends, but he'd come back down to earth soon enough. Scheduling counseling, sure.

Actually going through with it? That was another story. I told him I'd find a counselor and set something up, but weeks went by, and I never did.

Every time he brought it up, I had an excuse: "Oh, I've been so busy with work," or "The one I found was all booked up," or "I'm waiting for someone to call me back. " He seemed to believe me at first, but eventually, the questions stopped. I figured he'd gotten over it, just like I thought he would.

Then one night, he brought it up again. We were sitting on the couch watching TV, and he just turned to me and said, "You never scheduled counseling, did you? " I froze for a second but quickly recovered.

"I told you I've been trying. It's not as easy as it sounds. " "James, don't lie to me," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"You never planned to do it, did you? " I rolled my eyes, immediately defensive. "Oh, come on, James, don't act like I don't care about this marriage.

I said I'd do it, and I will. " "No," he said, cutting me off. "You won't, and you don't care.

Not enough, anyway. If you did, we wouldn't even be here right now. " "Here we go again," I muttered, crossing my arms.

"Why do you always have to make me the bad guy? " "Because you won't own up to anything! " he snapped, his voice rising.

"You don't respect me, Wanda! You don't even take this seriously. Honestly, I'm done pretending this is going to work.

I want a divorce. " I stared at him, stunned. "What did you just say?

" "I said I want a divorce," he repeated, his tone steady. "This isn't healthy. You don't respect me, and I can't be with someone who doesn't even want to try to fix things.

" I laughed, but it was more out of disbelief than anything else. "You're not serious! " "I am," he said, looking me dead in the eye.

"I've been serious for a while now. I just needed to make sure this isn't fixable, and it's not. " "You're being ridiculous," I said, shaking my head.

"You're just mad right now. You'll calm down and see how stupid this is. " "No, Wanda," he said firmly.

"I'm not mad. I'm clear. I deserve better than this.

" That's when it hit me: he wasn't bluffing. He wasn't trying to make a point or win an argument; he meant it. He wanted out, and I panicked.

"Are you kidding me? " I snapped, standing up and glaring at him. "You want a divorce after everything I've done for you?

After all the years I've put up with you being weak and passive—" "Stop," he said sharply, but I ignored him. "No! You're going to hear this!

" I said, my voice getting louder. "You're pathetic, James! You've always been pathetic!

You let me walk all over you for years, and now suddenly you think you're some big man because your little friends told you to grow a backbone? You're a joke! " "Wanda—" "No!

" I shouted, tears streaming down my face now. "I wish I never married you! You're an embarrassment, a fragile, weak excuse for a man!

You can't even handle a little joke without running to your friends like a child, and now you think you're better than me? " By the time I finished, I was shaking, my chest heaving with emotion. But as the words hung in the air, I realized something: there was no one else to blame.

Not James, not his friends, not anyone—just me. He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stood up and walked to the door.

"You don't have to say anything else," he said quietly. "I'll stay at Mike's for now. You can call me when you've had time to think about what you really want.

" And just like that, he was gone. For the first time in our entire relationship, I wasn't the one in control. And for the first time, I didn't know if I wanted him to come back.

Weeks went by after James told me he wanted a divorce. He stayed at Mike's Place most nights but came back to the house every few days to pick up clothes or sort through his stuff. Every time I saw him, it felt like he was someone else entirely.

He didn't look at me the same way, didn't speak to me with any warmth; it was like I was a stranger to him, and it killed me. I'd try to make small talk when he came by—anything to break the coldness between us—but he kept it short and polite, like he was talking to a coworker he barely knew. The minute he left, I'd fall apart.

I'd sit on the couch and cry, wondering how things had gotten so bad so fast. But as much as I hated the situation, I couldn't bring myself to take any real responsibility for it. I told myself it was his fault, that he'd let his friends poison his mind against me.

That's what I had to believe to keep myself from drowning in regret. When the divorce was finalized, it was as fair as it could have been. No one got screwed over, and neither of us walked away with more than the other.

I kept the house, he kept the car, and we split the savings evenly. But it didn't feel like a win; it felt like losing a part of myself that I couldn't get back. After the papers were signed, James stopped coming around altogether.

I'd see updates on his Facebook page every now and then—pictures of him smiling with Mike and the guys or hiking in places I didn't even know he liked. He looked happy, free even, and the comments from his friends made it clear that they were fully on his side. People I thought were our friends stopped reaching out to me entirely—no more invites to parties, no more texts to check in.

It was like I'd been cut out of the group completely. At first, I was angry. How could they all turn on me like that?

But deep down, I knew why. They weren't my friends; they were his, and they didn't like me. Maybe they never had.

Three months after the divorce, the silence from everyone else didn't bother me as much as James's happiness did. Every time I saw him post a picture or update, it was another reminder that he was better off without me. That stung more than anything.

I wanted to believe he was just putting on a show, but the smile in his photos didn't look fake. He looked strong, different, like the man I used to wish he'd be—but it was too late for it to matter. I tried to distract myself, to move on, but nothing felt right.

Dating apps were a joke; the guys I met were either weird, broke, or looking for something I wasn't. I didn't even know what I wanted anymore. All I knew was that I didn't want to end up alone, but with every passing week, that possibility started to feel more real.

I still told myself the divorce was for the best, that James wasn't the man I needed, that I'd find someone stronger, more decisive—someone who could handle me. But every time I saw his name pop up on my Newsfeed, that little voice in the back of my head told me I'd made a mistake and that maybe, just maybe, I'd been the problem all along. But I'd never say that out loud.

Not to anyone.