I Refuse to Play Her Love Games
At yet another family gathering, Kirsten Weber's male assistant, Jordan Steele, is sitting in the seat that should be mine.
I ask Kirsten, "He's sitting in the host's seat. Don't you have anything to say about that?"
Kirsten shoots back impatiently, "Since you showed up late, don't blame someone else for taking your seat. There's an empty seat next to it. You can take it if you want. If you don't want it, then get out."
I am about to speak when her inner thoughts suddenly flood into my mind.
She is saying inwardly, "Honey, get angry already. Tell me you need me. Tell me you have to sit beside me. Prove that you love me. That's the only way I'll feel secure."
This time, I do not give Kirsten what her heart desires.
Instead, I lower my head and slowly remove my wedding ring.
Calmly, I say, "Since you won't even save the seat for the man of the house, I suppose you don't need me anymore. Let's get a divorce, Kirsten."