My in-laws surprised us with a trip to Fiji for my wife’s 30th birthday. The sun, the water, and a new beginning away from routine sounded like a dream. But as soon as we arrived on the plane, the “dream” became strange.
While I was given an economy ticket, I looked up to see my wife and our child settle into first class, complete with blankets, larger seats, and all the extravagance. Before she leaned over and whispered, “Dad says he’s not your ATM,” with a small smirk, I honestly thought it was a mix-up.
I simply nodded, smiled, and said nothing. But in my mind? I thought, Alright. Noted.
She was still pretending like everything was normal when we landed, as if I should just accept my “place.” She was expecting for that five-star greeting when we arrived at the hotel and rolled our bags up to the front desk.
The clerk then raised his head and said, “I apologize, ma’am. There isn’t a reservation in your name.
My wife became motionless. As she frantically flipped through emails as if the screen would magically cure things, she exclaimed, “What do you mean, no reservation?”
I said coolly, “Oh, yeah.” I revoked the five-star reservation.
She jerked her head in my direction as if she was shocked by what she had heard.
I told them that I had made new reservations for us at a tidy, secure, small motel. Not very fancy. No ostentatious lobby. No suite beside the sea. Nothing more than a bed.
Then I turned to face her and added, “It’s okay if your dad isn’t my ATM.” This was my own expense. And you’ll handle it if you’re my wife.
In fact, her mouth fell open.
The following five days were… intriguing. As if it were a personal slight, she and our child bemoaned the “small room,” the “basic beds,” and the lack of luxury. In the meantime, to be honest, I was fine. Sitting outdoors with my coffee, I relished the warm air, took in the sunset sky’s changing hues, and had a sense of calm that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Don’t pretend. No acting. Don’t skirt entitlement.
She once attempted to take attractive Instagram pictures. Even if she employed filters, angles, and other techniques, it still shouted “budget motel,” and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Now that we’re home, she says I disrespected her parents’ present and spoiled her birthday. She claims I had no right to “punish” her or alter the arrangements in secret. Yes, perhaps I went too far.
However, a part of me still believes that I fulfilled my obligations. I wasn’t trying to ruin her birthday; rather, I was attempting to remind her that being ungrateful is important and that there are repercussions when you treat your spouse like the “economy seat” in your life.
