“My Husband Complains That I Don’t Make Varied Meals Like His Friend’s Wife: He Doesn’t Understand the Difference Between Our Families”

Benjamin and I have been married for seven years, and while our relationship has had its ups and downs, one recurring issue has been his dissatisfaction with my cooking. He often compares me to Scarlett, the wife of his best friend Jeffrey. Scarlett is a culinary wizard who seems to whip up gourmet meals effortlessly. Every time we visit Jeffrey and Scarlett, Benjamin can’t help but rave about her cooking skills.

“Why can’t you make meals like Scarlett?” he asks, his tone tinged with frustration. “She always has something new and exciting on the table.”

I understand where he’s coming from. Scarlett is indeed a fantastic cook. She loves experimenting with new recipes and spends hours in the kitchen perfecting her dishes. But what Benjamin fails to see is that Scarlett is currently on maternity leave. She has the luxury of time, which I simply don’t have.

I work a demanding full-time job as a marketing manager. My days are filled with meetings, deadlines, and constant stress. By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. The last thing I want to do is spend hours in the kitchen. I usually opt for quick and easy meals that are nutritious but not necessarily gourmet.

“Scarlett enjoys cooking,” I try to explain to Benjamin. “It’s her passion. For me, it’s just another chore.”

But my words fall on deaf ears. Benjamin seems to think that if Scarlett can do it, so can I. He doesn’t understand that our circumstances are different. Scarlett has the time and energy to devote to cooking, while I barely have enough energy to get through the day.

One evening, after another round of complaints from Benjamin, I decided to confront him.

“Do you even realize how much pressure you’re putting on me?” I asked, my voice shaking with emotion. “I can’t be Scarlett. I can’t spend hours in the kitchen every day. I have a job, responsibilities, and I’m exhausted.”

Benjamin looked at me, his expression softening for a moment before hardening again.

“I just want us to have nice meals,” he said quietly. “Is that too much to ask?”

“It’s not about the meals,” I replied, tears welling up in my eyes. “It’s about you not understanding or appreciating what I do for this family.”

The conversation ended there, but the tension remained. Benjamin continued to compare me to Scarlett, and I continued to feel inadequate. Our relationship started to deteriorate as resentment built up on both sides.

One day, after a particularly stressful day at work, I came home to find Benjamin sitting at the dining table with a takeout menu in front of him.

“Let’s just order in,” he said flatly.

I nodded, too tired to argue. As we ate our takeout in silence, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of defeat. Our marriage was crumbling under the weight of unmet expectations and unspoken frustrations.

In the end, it wasn’t just about the meals. It was about understanding, appreciation, and compromise—things that were sorely lacking in our relationship. And without those, no amount of gourmet cooking could save us.