It started as a harmless routine—once a month, my wife would dress up for her “girls-only dinners.” The tradition began just six months into our marriage, and she framed it as an essential way to stay connected with her friends.
“It’s important to have some girl time,” she said one evening as she adjusted her hair in the kitchen mirror. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” I replied, genuinely supportive. I liked that she had her own space and time to unwind. It felt healthy, normal even. While she went out, I would immerse myself in hobbies or movies she found intolerable. It was an arrangement that worked well—for a while.
Over the years, though, the dinners began to feel… off. Not because of the routine itself but the way she approached it. Her preparations seemed more elaborate than necessary.
“Isn’t that dress a bit much for nachos and margaritas?” I teased one evening as I watched her zip up a sleek black dress that hugged her figure.
She smirked in the mirror. “You don’t get it. Women like to dress up, even if it’s just for each other.”
