Going Dutch Was A Farce
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Summary
We had been in love for five years and married for three.
My husband had taken the whole “going Dutch” to an absurd extreme.
A two-dollar bottle of water for the house? Split it in half.
A $105 utility bill? He'd send me a Venmo request for my half.
He called it “the spirit of equality in a modern marriage.”
According to him, rules were rules.
I gritted my teeth and put up with it.
Until I found out I was pregnant.
To save money on the prenatal appointments and nutritional expenses he insisted we split, I could barely afford anything more than plain boiled eggs every day.
