I Should Have Ended My Marriage on the Honeymoon Night

On the first night of our honeymoon, my wife didn’t allow me to touch her. Instead, she made me get on my knees and beg to consummate our marriage. When she finally gave in, she lay there like a log of wood. It felt as empty as the tomb where Jesus was buried.

We married after a year of dating. I met her on Facebook, where her profile was a shrine to her faith. “God is good” “God is not a man that He should lie.” It was as if her entire identity was built on her faith. That caught my attention, but it was her rare beauty that forced me to reach out.

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When we started seeing each other, we felt it in our souls: we would stand at the altar and vow to be husband and wife until death.

That is why what happened on our honeymoon sent a shock down my spine. Still, I took it in good faith. I hoped that back home, the woman who spent her days preaching on social media would fulfill her marital duties. She didn’t even come close.

The one time she willingly allowed intimacy, she fell pregnant. Throughout the pregnancy, I stepped up. I washed clothes, cleaned the house, and cooked every meal. Before she could even reach for a pillow to adjust her back, I was there. My faith in us was slowly returning—until she gave birth and her mother moved in.

I didn’t know then that peace was about to become a visitor instead of a resident.

My mother-in-law came to help with the baby and stayed far longer than we agreed. Her excuse? She had been kicked out of her home and had nowhere to go. She asked her daughter, “Do you want to throw me onto the streets?” My wife fell for the bait and insisted she stay. At first, I didn’t mind. She was my wife’s mother, which made her mine, too.

But now, I often forget I’m even married in my own house.

Her mother makes every decision. She tells her daughter how to love me—and when not to. I even overheard her in the kitchen saying, “Why are you serving your husband first? This is the 21st century; haven’t you heard of the ‘change’?” It took me a moment to realize she was weaponizing feminism against our marriage.

The disrespect has become a pattern. When I buy groceries and they run out, they buy replacements and hide them and wouldn’t mind me going hungry. My wife has never helped with my chores. If I leave my laundry outside and forget it, she’ll let it rot in the rain before she lends a hand.

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Once, she even accused me of stealing her money. When I told her I hadn’t seen it, she threatened me: “If I don’t find that money, I’ll take the matter to the gods.” That statement alone made me lose my temper.

Honestly, I feel like I’m watching a movie. My own house is on fire and I’m just standing there in shock. There’s zero respect, zero support, and zero partnership here. It’s wild watching my wife let her mother triumph over her. It’s like I’m being forced to pay for her husband’s sins.

How do I fix a marriage with no intimacy, no respect, and a mother-in-law running the show? I need to know how to build a healthy home from these ashes.

—JOB

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