Parents gave us a luxurious country house for the wedding, it would seem, what else to want, but my husband did not appreciate and left me.

Who doesn't dream in this life? gift? Well, actually, it's a place where you can live without grief. Growing up, raising kids. More spacious than an apartment. Extra rooms to be converted for anything. Neighbors, again, don't interfere. There are, of course, some burghers who cannot sleep without the noise of the city, and the exhaust of cars for them is cleaner than mountain air. These are exceptions that only confirm the rule. A private home is beautiful.



However, we should not forget about other conditions. Unlike the apartment, the house requires special treatment. Here earlier in urban high-rise buildings, cockroaches were often started. We ran from neighbors to neighbors, back and forth. Now they are not, they say, radiation from mobile phones they do not like. And the ants in private homes were, and are. And you also need to do plumbing, conduct gas. For an apartment, these are sort of self-evident things. But in your house, you have to do it yourself. But then, having solved all the problems, Life seems to be blossoming.

The house my parents bought was the reason for my divorce. I mean, not exactly him, really. But the premise was this purchase. To be honest, I’m coming out of a prolonged depression: six months ago I was very ill. But I can’t say that I’ve become the cheerful and cheerful girl I was before I got married. I hope things fall into place again soon and I will not forget my bitter experience.

It so happened that my parents had an only daughter. All their love and help was always directed at me. Outwardly, I went to my dad: he is such a prominent man, who does not suffer from unnecessary complexes. So I, too, by the time I was 17, had given up all diets and decided for myself that my prince would love me the way I am. My father has his own business and he's pretty successful. Since I was a child, I didn’t need anything. I am very grateful to my parents for that.



Mom is a thin, hardworking woman. I come from the village. Therefore, her views on life have always been for me and my father, so to speak, peculiar. You need to work with your hands, store products are poison. More useful than taking something in the market, there is nothing. Well, that's it. I didn’t like her advice when I was a kid, and probably that’s why I grew up not slim at all, and not working. Well, it happens.

So when I got a fiancé, I didn't show him for a long time that my parents had money. But he kept trying to win me over, and he probably won me over. Then, when I finally realized that Lesha is my man, I decided to reveal all the cards to him. My dad liked it too, and my mom loved it. In her understanding, I have long been stuck in girls. In general, right at the wedding ceremony, the parents announced to me and my husband that their gift to the young is a two-storey house, a suburb, but quite close to the city limits. Lesha already had a car, so the location, in my opinion, was in order.

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We had everything in our house to just come and live. Even the Internet is paid for a year in advance. And satellite. So my husband and I lived for a while and did not know the grief. I was sitting at home and just living my life. I had money to order cleaning, and I cooked according to my mood. Near us there are a lot of cafes and kebabs, and for regular customers they have discounts. The role of the wife vacuum cleaner did not suit me.

Lesha went to work, the realtor is obliged to talk to clients in person. And I was comfortable with that. Salary, of course, is not a fountain. But I was hoping that Dad would eventually find a place for him. That's why I wasn't worried. Why? But my mom ruined our holiday. Or rather, its desire to accustom us, the incompetent, to the “real” life. She's such a person and I don't blame her.

She just started coming to us from time to time and picking the ground, as always, and she wanted to. He will come, plant vegetables, sit with us, talk with us. I love my mother very much, so her visits were always good news for me. But Lesha quickly began to get tired of them. Affected nervous work and perhaps unusual circumstances. You see, he wanted me to wait for him when he got home and everything else in his mind had to take a back seat.



And here's my mom with her gardening problems. "Come on, son-in-law, help me. Handle the rake.” It was a conflict between two worlds. Lesha, though a citizen to the bone, could not afford to provide us with a luxurious life. And my mother, an ordinary woman from the village, spent more on a taxi than she could bring the richest harvest of cucumbers she had sown. Because of how different my parents are, I got used to it. And the husband was nervous at the thought of digging potatoes, planting tomatoes, cucumbers and everything else.

But let's be honest? He liked the conditions, his mother never demanded his career growth or reproached him for other mistakes. Just for her, working in the fresh air is a rest. And I will tell you even more, when my husband began to refuse to work with his hands, she accepted this. But she didn't stop coming. We had quarrels with our husband, even hysterics on his part. “I cannot rest in my own house! When will it end?! I'll sow this village garden with grass, we'll play football!



And one day I agreed with him. She said get down. But just so that the lawn is flat, take care of it, live like one of those Hollywood houses, I don't mind. But do it at your own expense and buy a lawnmower too. Act like a man. I'll support you. And that's what killed him. Lesha began to complain that I am not doing anything, sitting around my parents’ neck, and he has no extra money to do such nonsense. We haven't spoken in days. And then when my mom came back, he just got in the car and he was like that.

Neither did the family therapist. Even Dad tried to talk, it didn't work. Husband filed for divorce, took a couple of his things: we certainly had nothing to share. That's it, the story ends there. We haven't lived together for a year. And I never understood the reason. She even complained to her mother. She was stupid.



Now, gradually, I come to my senses and realize that my prince was just an ordinary hysteria. It’s probably even better that I found out so quickly. I don’t know what’s going on with him, it’s not very interesting. But I learned something for myself and now I have a better understanding of what kind of man I need. You know, the first pancake, he's not a lump. It's just training. My next marriage will be better, I know that. Okay, I'm fine if you're interested. The best way to learn from your mistakes is to remember this for a long time.