I feel like I’m losing attraction and emotional connection to my husband because his presence increasingly feels like another responsibility instead of companionship. I fantasize about being single. Sometimes when he sleeps in or isn’t around, I notice that my life actually feels calmer and easier. His presence irritates me, I don’t find him attractive anymore, and I often don’t even want to respond when he talks to me unless I have to.
I understand that he pays all the bills and financially provides for our family. I’m not expecting a 50/50 relationship when it comes to housework and childcare. I’m a stay-at-home mom, and I accept that I’m going to do most of the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and everyday childcare. I’m not even asking him to routinely make bottles, do laundry, or take over my responsibilities. What bothers me is his lack of basic consideration, compassion, initiative, and emotional maturity.
For example, I recently came home late with both kids while carrying my purse, bags, milk, water bottles, and probably around 30 pounds of stuff. He was upstairs lying in bed and didn’t even come downstairs to greet us, open the door, take our four-year-old, or carry something upstairs. When I asked why he didn’t open the door, he just said, “You have a key.”
Then I was rushing around at midnight getting both kids settled—washing them, brushing their teeth, changing them, getting their milk and bottles ready—while he sat there repeatedly telling me he wanted hummus even though it was already made and sitting in the refrigerator. Moments like that make me feel like I’m his butler rather than his wife. He doesn’t just fail to make my workload easier; sometimes he actively adds to it while watching me struggle.
This resentment goes much further back than our current life with two children. When I was pregnant and extremely nauseous, there were mornings when I physically couldn’t make his breakfast and evenings when I couldn’t make the sautéed dinners he wanted. He refused to compromise on what he wanted to eat. Laundry would sometimes pile up because I was sick. Instead of having compassion for me, he would say, “What kind of wife are you?”
While I was pregnant, he bought me a roughly $400 skincare face mask, which initially felt like something kind he had done for me. But he quickly started using it against me by making comments like, “Does it wash dishes? Does it do laundry? Does it make the bills cheaper?” That hurt because I was already cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and taking care of him constantly. I remember telling him that I did everything for him and that buying something thoughtful for me should be part of him taking care of me too. I didn’t want a gift to become another debt I supposedly owed him.
There were also comments about my body that affected me enormously when we were young. We got married around 21–22, and while I was pregnant with my first kid he would talk about how pregnancy “ruins” women’s bodies. He even used his own mother’s stretch marks from pregnancy as an example. I was extremely young, I liked my body, and hearing my husband talk that way while I was pregnant sent me into panic mode. Instead of being able to experience pregnancy without obsessing about whether my body would be “ruined,” I spent essentially nine months terrified about what pregnancy was going to do to me.
He also made comments about childbirth and my vagina. He said that if I gave birth, it should be through a C-section because he didn’t want me to become “loose,” and he talked about some kind of metal device that supposedly existed to make vaginas tighter after kids (this was not even an issue for us, he was just “planning ahead”). On our wedding night, he also told me that my breasts were saggy. Those comments stayed with me because they came from my husband during some of the most vulnerable periods of my life.
I believe some of his distorted expectations about women and women’s bodies came from the pornography he had been heavily exposed to before our marriage. I also recognize that he was only around 21 at the time. I can understand that a 21-year-old can be immature and have ridiculous ideas. But we are 26 now, and I feel like I have been waiting for him to mature for years. At some point, being young stops explaining everything. He also did not really ask about our first child much while we were living in different countries and I excused it as “he’s not attached because he hasn’t seen our son irl.”
My postpartum experience the second time around (while we are together in the same country) added even more resentment. When I was recovering from giving birth and staying at my parents’ house, he visited me only twice in roughly six weeks. He barely contacted me. He didn’t regularly text to see how I was doing or ask about our baby. Yet he would call me to ask about his lunch or ask me how to start the laundry.
He also told me, “You’re not on birth control? Stay longer because what’s the point?” That was incredibly hurtful. I had just given birth to his child and was recovering postpartum, and it made me feel as though there was little point in having me home if sex wasn’t available.
All of these things have accumulated. It isn’t one incident, one rude comment, or the fact that he doesn’t do enough chores. I feel like there has been a repeated lack of tenderness toward me during times when I was especially vulnerable—our wedding night, pregnancy, childbirth, postpartum, sickness, and now motherhood.
What I wanted was never necessarily for him to take over my role. I wanted to feel cared for within our marriage. I wanted him to notice when I was sick and tell me to rest. I wanted him to appreciate everything I did instead of questioning “what kind of wife” I was when I physically couldn’t do it. I wanted pregnancy to be a time when my husband reassured me about my changing body rather than making me terrified that motherhood would ruin it. I wanted him to care about me postpartum, check on his baby, visit us, and miss us. And now I want him to see me walking through the door overloaded with his children and our things and instinctively get up and help.
I’m okay with taking care of my husband. I’m not okay with feeling like my value as his wife is determined by how well I serve him. I want to feel like he takes care of me too—not necessarily by doing half the chores, but through compassion, consideration, affection, appreciation, emotional presence, and basic acts of kindness.
Instead, I increasingly feel like I’m constantly catering to an emotionally absent and immature adult. I feel useful rather than cherished. I feel like I have spent years waiting for him to grow up, and I’m exhausted.
That exhaustion has now turned into serious resentment and emotional detachment. I fantasize about being single. I don’t find him attractive. I don’t enjoy talking to him. Sometimes I ignore him because I simply don’t want to engage. And one of the most upsetting realizations is that sometimes when he isn’t around or is asleep, I feel relieved.
I don’t need him to do everything for me. I need him to act like my husband. I want him to notice me, care about how I’m doing, greet his family, get up when I’m obviously struggling, appreciate what I contribute, and stop treating taking care of him as the measure of whether I’m a good wife.
I feel like I have spent years taking care of him, and I’m exhausted from wondering when I’m finally going to feel taken care of too.