My Husband, the Prisoner of Others’ Desires: The Drama of Our Married Life
I’m at my breaking point. Three years ago, I married Oliver, but instead of gaining a partner, I got a perpetual servant to everyone except our own family. My husband is spineless, and it’s ruining our lives.
Oliver is the man everyone takes for granted—like an old cart they can pile their burdens onto. At work, at home, even among friends, he’s the first they call when a task needs doing and the last they remember when rewards are handed out. It’s unbearable. I’m exhausted watching his kindness be exploited while he never lifts a finger to resist.
At his job in a small town near Manchester, his bosses seem to have made an unspoken pact: Oliver is their perfect victim. Need someone for the night shift? Of course, call Oliver! A last-minute business trip to another county? Who else but Oliver? Covering a colleague’s holiday shift? Oliver’s already at the door. Yet when bonuses or promotions come around, they act like he doesn’t exist. I still remember when they handed out holiday vouchers for a spa retreat in the Lake District. Guess who was left out? My husband.
I’ve tried talking to him, pleading with him to value himself, his work, his time. He nods, agrees, but the moment someone calls with another “favour,” he’s gone—racing off to fulfil their demands while forgetting about us. It’s led to endless arguments. Oliver isn’t a bad man; he’s caring, doesn’t drink, and loves me. But his weakness is a dagger through the heart of our marriage. Without it, we could be happy.
His “friends” are another source of pain. I don’t know how he still calls them friends when all they do is take. Someone’s always borrowing money, needing a lift to the train station, or begging for help with “just a quick” DIY job. And us? We spent three years saving every spare penny to buy a second-hand car, denying ourselves luxuries so we could finally have one. And what’s it become? A free taxi service for everyone but his own wife.
The tools Oliver bought for our home have vanished like hotcakes at a charity bake sale. “Can I borrow your drill?” “Mind if I use your screwdriver?”—and poof, they’re gone. I tell him, “Call them, remind them! Make them return it!” He just mutters, “It’s awkward—they’re mates, they’ll remember.” Spoiler: they never do. And the loans? Handed out effortlessly, repaid—surprise—never. I’ve lost count of the money that’s vanished into thin air.
But the worst? His family. Oliver’s mother, Margaret, rules like a drill sergeant. Her husband, my father-in-law, is as meek as Oliver—no opinions, no resistance, just blind obedience. His sister thankfully married and moved to Edinburgh, but that only left Oliver to shoulder the entire family’s demands.
It’s always something: Mum needs bags taken to the cottage, Auntie wants help moving, a cousin’s fence needs fixing. As if they haven’t got their own men to do it! Since we bought the car, Oliver’s barely home—he’s become the family chauffeur. Our plans? Irrelevant. The moment Margaret calls, he’s off, sprinting to her latest errand.
Once, he even missed our anniversary dinner because he was ferrying some distant relative to the garden centre for plants. I sat alone at the restaurant, fuming, when he called, mumbling, “Mum needed help—I’ll be there soon.” Had I known Oliver was this much of a pushover, I’d have thought twice before marrying him.
I’m tired of fighting for scraps of our own time, our car, our life. I helped pay for that car, yet I’m stuck taking the bus to work while Oliver’s off playing errand boy. It feels like I’m the one who married him, not the other way around. His kindness isn’t a virtue—it’s a curse.
Yesterday, I snapped. I’m four months pregnant—a baby we’ve longed for, dreamed of. We were at the maternity clinic when his phone rang. Margaret needed him to fetch some boxes for her cottage. And he left. Just walked out, abandoning me there. I took a cab home, choking back tears.
That evening, he stumbled through apologies—”You can’t say no to Mum”—but I was done. Everyone matters more than me. Where do I even rank in his life? His weakness is tearing us apart.
I’ve given him an ultimatum: either he changes, puts our family first, or I file for divorce. I’m not an afterthought. I need a husband who’ll stand by me, not a doormat for every lazy soul who won’t solve their own problems.
And when our child arrives? Am I meant to do it all alone? I want to believe Oliver can change, but my patience is threadbare. I’m exhausted being married to a man who can’t utter a simple word: “No.”
**Lesson Learned:** Kindness without boundaries is self-destruction. A life spent pleasing others leaves no room for your own happiness—or those who truly love you.
