In the quiet of the night, the sound of the refrigerator was the unhappy soundtrack to a scene of marital discord. The increasing thump of my own heart was evidence of my fear of my own wife and the growing tension in our household.

Bridget, bathed in the ghostly blueish glow of her phone, finally set it down with a sigh, She yawned and stretched lazily, with her sheets sparkling with what must have been kinetic energy between whatever expensive and rare material they were made of and her silk pajamas which are obviously a recent birthday gift from yours truly, a gift that now felt like a small, expensive-for-nothing reminder to our growing disconnect and it was a universe away in contrast to the worn cotton t-shirt that I sported.

“Hey,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, or perhaps something more.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, forcing a smile that felt more like a smirk. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, just lost in the endless scroll,” she confessed, a hint of sheepishness in her voice that did little to ease the knot forming in my stomach. Her phone screen, now dark, had displayed a thread of designer bags – a world away from the harsh realities reflected in the spreadsheet titled “Budget 2024” on my laptop.

It was late, I think 02:17 AM which is far past the hour decent folks should be up wrestling with numbers, yet here I was, trying to balance our income, Oh! I mean my income against “our” expenditure.

We used to tackle these things together, our romantic giggles and laughter filling the apartment as we strategized ways to stretch my meager paycheck. Eating out was a treat, a shared adventure for us foodies.

Now, it’s a lonely experience which is fueled by my exhaustion and a growing sense of disconnect. I’d rather go out alone and find peace in a burger and a steak for only $27.89 than go with her because, while she says she’s watching her diet and health, she only eats crabs, octopus, and crayfish, which would unsettle my card with at least $650.

Her recent purchase, a vintage Chanel bag with a price tag that could have paid our rent twice over, sits on the dressing board. Well, at least she bought the one with crocodile skin, I don’t think the one with brown-black python skin would have looked nice on her anyway.

But things have changed. Bridget’s rise to social media stardom had brought with it a whirlwind of the need to keep up appearances and brand events, a world far removed from the modest beginnings we shared.

Did I play a part in it? Had my attempts to keep up, showering her with extravagant gifts like the trip to Paris, fueled the very desires that were pushing us apart?

Now, the luxury we once viewed as a rare thing had become the norm, a carefully curated online persona that seemed increasingly at odds with the woman I shared a bed with, the woman that I fell in love with eight years ago.

The forced smile on Bridget’s face as she scrolled through her phone, showcasing their picture-perfect life for her followers, felt like a punch to the gut.

I kept my cool and a heavy silence settled over us, I was beginning to resent her. I only wished for a time when things were simpler, before the need for designer labels and the pressure of social media likes had driven a wedge between us.

But here’s the thing, Bridget, and to all the women out there who might be falling into this trap – it’s not always about the man being misogynistic, less of a gentleman, or neglectful.

Sometimes, it’s about the allure of materialistic desires that blinds us to the love and care right in front of us. It’s about the obsession with luxury, the insatiable need for more, that can fracture households and break hearts.

We get caught in a comparison game, scrolling through feeds filled with unrealistic expectations, forgetting the value of what we already have.

Bridget, you don’t need a Porsche to feel loved. You don’t need a first-class ticket to Paris to feel valued. And you certainly don’t need a closet full of designer bags to find happiness.

True love, the kind that lasts a lifetime, isn’t measured in price tags or Instagram likes. It’s found in the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the support you give each other through thick and thin.

Remember the excitement you shared over that chipped teacup at the antique store? The joy wasn’t in the price, but in the story it held, a story you built together.

So, before you reach for that next designer handbag or book that extravagant vacation, stop and ask yourself – what truly matters? Is it the fleeting thrill of material possessions, or is it the genuine connection, the deep bond, that sustains us through life’s ups and downs?

Think about the man beside you, Bridget. Is he the one struggling with spreadsheets at 2 AM because he wants to provide a secure future for you both?  Is he the one who remembers your birthday with a thoughtful gift, even if it can’t compete with a Chanel bag?

The choice is yours, Bridget, and it’s a choice that could shape the future of your relationship, your happiness, and your life.

Remember, ladies, a strong partnership thrives on shared goals and mutual respect.  True love isn’t about keeping score, but about building a life together, brick by brick, experience by experience. Don’t let the allure of materialism steal the chance to create a love story that lasts long.