of last straws

He interrupts even before you start talking. Yes, we all know, your dream is to be a housewife. You’ve said this a million times, he says, chuckling.

Lately, it’s become something of a joke between the two of you.

You’re eagerly telling him how much it excites you. Imagine spending the entire day at home, doing things at your own pace. I would love to spend my day cleaning, packing a lunch for you, doing the dishes, and wait-for-it, gossiping with the other ladies in the neighborhood.

He lets out a full-bodied laugh. Trust me, you’re so restless, you won’t be able to survive that life for more than a week.

You’re almost pleading with him now, but he doesn’t notice. Trust me, I would love to do this for the rest of my life. I would love to cook all three meals for you!

You’re so adorable! He says, laughing out loud. He suddenly pulls you toward him and kisses you. You kiss him back, wondering whether he will ever stop seeing this as a joke.

Later that evening, you tell him you don’t want to be with him anymore.