It Wasn’t His Wife Who Made Him This Way—It Was You Who Did

My friends son is such a lovely lad. He did well at school, sailed through his studies, got himself a proper job, and worked his socks off. Now hes a wealthy business owner with a charming cottage in the countryside and a flat right in the heart of London honestly, Im not exaggerating, hes nothing short of a wonder.

But… as theres always a but lurking somewhere he married a girl. An awful girl, from a rather troubled background, always cross, jealous, and cold-hearted. This isnt just his mothers opinion, who handed her only son into that womans talons its pure fact.

First, this shrew drove away all her husbands mates. Why do you bother with them? They just turn up to swill your ale, sponge off you youve got nothing better to do than let them take advantage? shed hiss.

Next, she picked off his family ties one by one. His familys a big, warm-hearted bunch, always celebrating together, ringing up for chats a proper, close-knit lot.

Shed roll her eyes to the heavens at every invitation from his side. She invented pressing errands when they wanted to visit, and suddenly clutched her temples with some fresh migraine the instant anyone tried to pop round.

Before long, only his poor mum still came by now and then, desperate to see her granddaughter, aching for her boy.

Yet, each time, the wife manufactured a row.

Not a wild, shrieking scene, but cool as you like, with that faintly venomous smile: Ive told you a thousand times, honestly dont bring tacky gifts, we use only high-quality things here, and you bring us these cheap bits.

Her son stood by, nodding along: Mum, for heavens sake.

Yesterday, I bumped into her and another friend for tea. The friend was weeping quietly, hands shaking, showing me a text message. Her daughter-in-law had sent it, saying she and her husband had decided itd be better if she stopped calling round.

Weeping, she gasped that her son had rung up and said: Mum, you upset my wife. Every time you come over, it takes her days to recover.

But the point wasnt even that. I sat there, sighing for the poor woman how could such bad luck find her? That daughter-in-law was a nightmare.

And suddenly, the other friend piped up: Whats it got to do with her? Youve raised a son whos selfish and cold.

I scolded her: Dont be daft. What else was he supposed to do? He did it for his family, for the sake of peace you should have seen him back in year six, making his mother a card for Mothers Day with a heart and a daffodil painted on it himself.

Wed show you, honestly hes got heart, he made that himself. If only it werent for that wife…

The friend just shrugged, If a man isnt mean, no wife could force him to act so. Simple as that. And off she went.

And in that moment, as if a fog cleared from my mind.

All my life, I believed a good man just happened to marry a bad woman.

But now?

It turned out, a persons callous because hes callous, not because some bad wife makes him so.