My jaw hit the floor. My girlfriend was wearing a floral, knee-length sundressâcompletely standard attire for a hot summer day. I looked around and saw my ex-wife smirking in the corner. She was wearing a tank top and short denim shorts, showing significantly more skin than my girlfriend was.
I laughed nervously, assuming it was a bad joke. “Good one, Jerry,” I said.
He didn’t smile. He crossed his arms and said, “I’m serious. We run a respectable household. She looks like she’s trying to show off. She covers up with this shirt, or she isn’t welcome in the backyard.”
My girlfriend, who is incredibly sweet and hates conflict, actually started reaching for the filthy, paint-stained shirt he was holding out, tears forming in her eyes. She whispered to me, “It’s okay, I don’t want to ruin the day.”
That broke my heart and made me furious at the same time. I gently grabbed her hand and pulled it back.
“Absolutely not,” I told him, loud enough for everyone to hear. “There is nothing wrong with what she is wearing. If you’re going to humiliate her to score points with my ex, we aren’t staying.”
“Fine,” he grunted. “Then leave.”
“Gladly,” I said. “But weâre taking our contributions.”
I walked over to the grill station and took back the three packs of premium BBQ sausages I had just set down. Then, I walked to the main table, grabbed the massive bowl of homemade pasta salad my girlfriend had spent two hours prepping that morning, and put the lid back on.
My ex-wifeâs smirk vanished. “You can’t take the food! That’s tacky!” she yelled across the yard.
“It’s for guests,” I called back. “And apparently, we aren’t guests.”
We walked out to the car with our heads held high. We drove to a nice scenic spot by the river, fired up a portable grill I keep in my trunk, and had the best BBQ of our livesâjust the two of us.
My phone blew up later with texts from family members calling me “petty” for taking the food, but I blocked them all. I will never let anyone treat my partner like that again.
