Real-life. “I'm 50 and Tired of My Wife's Meticulousness”: I Don't Want to Live with a Boring Woman Anymore

They say that a marriage goes through several crises during their life together. These are 3 years, 7 years, and 15 years.

After this period, husband and wife often cannot imagine life without each other, although there are exceptions. I think our couple is one of these rare cases. I work as a fitness instructor. I understand that it sounds a bit strange, considering that I am almost 50. But believe me, on the street I get stares from girls who are 2-3 times younger than me.

I am used to keeping myself in good shape, not letting my belly sag, but at the same time I stick to a business style of dressing. I like the way I look. My wife is eight years younger than me. I can't say she is a model, although she goes to the gym and spa regularly. Marta is naturally tall, statuesque, with a large bust and a figure like a guitar.

Maybe a beauty like her wouldn't look at me, but apparently fate decided that way. We met at a mutual friends' wedding. She was a bridesmaid and caught the bouquet. When the toastmaster asked her who the lucky guy would be to walk her down the aisle, she replied that she didn't have a boyfriend. So I went to the middle of the room and asked her to consider me. We danced a lot and eventually went home together. A few months later, we started living together.

At first, I didn't notice any flaws in her. I even liked her meticulousness. She wouldn't go to bed until she cleaned the kitchen or put on a face mask. Everything had to be perfect. It seemed to me that I was a hundred percent perfect match for her. Less than a year later, we got married. We took our time with the kids, enjoyed life and each other. Over time, I started to notice only one thing about my wife: if we went to a meeting, we were always late. It didn't matter if it was a business dinner or just going to the movies with friends, the distance to the destination didn't matter either. Marta didn't leave the house if her closet was a mess.

She couldn't imagine crossing the threshold of the apartment without checking a hundred times whether the stove and the iron were off. I attributed this to her thoroughness and attention to detail, but in reality it was called nagging and boredom. To be honest, we never had children. Marta always waited for some “perfect” moment: either the moon had to be full, or she urgently needed to eat a special fruit. In general, all this is nonsense, and I didn't care.

She once offered me to adopt a child, but I refused. For her, all the children in the orphanage immediately became beautiful and desirable. I couldn't stand it. And then my wife got her FIRST pug. It's no accident that I say he was the first, because five more dogs came after the first one. Can you imagine how six four-legged animals and two two-legged ones manage in a two-room apartment? Cleaning became Marta's main occupation.

As long as we have a bunch of tailed cubs running around our apartment, we can't wait to have our own kids. Everyone went nuts. My mother-in-law started screaming, my wife started crying, and the dogs started barking. It was basically an open house in a madhouse. I went to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. How I Got to This Point in My Life?

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