The final straw came one evening at a bar. When the waitress approached our table, he smiled and told her that I was his sister. She laughed, thinking it was a funny joke, and he winked at her as if the whole situation was hilarious. Meanwhile, I sat there humiliated, feeling smaller than ever.
Later, when I confronted him about it and told him how much it hurt, he brushed it off like it was nothing.
“Only insecure women get jealous,” he said with a shrug. “I married you, didn’t I? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”