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On Saving a Marriage
Trashy Hotel Edition
It’s been quite the year. My husband, our two toddlers, and I currently live with my mother while we renovate our new house.
Let me start with this: living with your mother and 2 toddlers is the ultimate birth control. It’s like living with a human “No Swimming” sign for your vagina. No one’s diving into these waters.
Let me illustrate how dire this situation is… for Valentine’s Day, I hit a breaking point. I decided to book a hotel room just so we could do the no-pants dance.
I went on Priceline and sorted by “Desperation.” I found a place close by for 75 bucks a night.
I showed my husband the booking, and he responded, “NO.” Rude.
He goes, “That place is a shit hole. There was a stabbing there last week.”
Fair point. I think.
But then, he said “honey” in that condescending tone that only sassy gay men and women from Long Island can get away with.
And because I’m a rational, stable woman… I doubled down. I told him, “I am not paying more than $75 to sleep with a man I already pay health insurance for.”
Two weeks pass…
We pull up to the hotel. There are four cop cars in the lot. My husband looks at me dead in my eyes…
