I Cooked a Festive Dinner for 20 People for My Husband’s Birthday — Then He Ditched Me to Celebrate at a Bar

I thought I was being a good wife, throwing a festive dinner for my husband Todd’s 35th birthday. But just as the guests were about to arrive, he told me he was ditching the party to watch the game at a bar. What happened next? Let’s just say, I got the last laugh.

You’d think six years of marriage would teach someone a little gratitude, but not Todd. Every year, I’d pour my heart and soul into his birthday, only for him to take it all for granted.

This year, though, his entitlement hit a whole new level.

A man standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A man standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

Six years. That’s how long Todd and I have been married.

Don’t get me wrong, our relationship isn’t all bad. Todd can be charming when he wants to be, and we’ve had some wonderful times together. But there’s one thing about him that drives me absolutely up the wall.

His entitlement.

Take last Thanksgiving, for example. Todd had this brilliant idea to host a dinner for both of our families. He announced it at breakfast one day, grinning like he’d solved world hunger.

Breakfast on a table | Source: Pexels

Breakfast on a table | Source: Pexels

“Claire,” he said, “I think we should host Thanksgiving this year.”

“Okay,” I replied. “That sounds nice. How are we dividing up the responsibilities?”

He waved me off like I’d just asked him to do a headstand.

“Oh, you’re so much better at that stuff,” he said. “I’ll handle… I don’t know, drinks or something. Just make it memorable, alright?”

I should’ve known better, but I went along with it.

For two weeks, I planned and prepped while Todd played fantasy football and occasionally asked me, “You need me to pick up anything?”

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

On the big day, I roasted the turkey, whipped up sides, and even made two pies.

And Todd? He carried the cooler of beer into the living room. That’s it.

After dinner, as everyone raved about the food and decor, Todd decided it was time to take credit for everything.

“Glad you all love it,” he said. “I wanted it to be special this year.”

I thought I’d misheard him.

“Oh, really?” I asked. “What part did you want special? The green bean casserole or the centerpiece?”

A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney

He ignored me, of course.

And that’s Todd in a nutshell. He wants the credit without lifting a finger.

Then there was last year on his birthday.

I spent weeks creating a customized photo album, filling it with pictures from our travels and special moments together. I couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he unwrapped it.

But when he was done flipping through the pages, he just said, “Oh. So, where’s the real gift?”

It wasn’t just his words that hurt. It was the sheer audacity.

A woman looking at her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her husband | Source: Midjourney

I’d married a man who once wrote me poetry, and now he couldn’t appreciate a heartfelt gesture. That moment shattered something in me.

It made me realize he wasn’t the man I’d fallen for anymore.

And then came his 35th birthday. The final straw.

We were having dinner when Todd casually told me his plans.

“Claire, I want a big, proper birthday dinner this year,” he said. “Invite the family, my buddies, everyone.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You mean you want me to plan it?”

A woman in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her house | Source: Midjourney

“Well, yeah,” he said. “You’re good at this stuff. Just make it decent, alright? I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of everyone.”

“Decent?” I repeated.

“Yeah, just don’t go overboard or anything. Keep it classy.”

You see the entitlement here? See the way he thinks he deserves a birthday party while knowing how he’d hurt me with his words last time?

Honestly, I didn’t want to agree, but I decided to give him another chance. After all, it was his birthday, and I wanted to make it special even if he didn’t deserve it.

A close-up shot of a woman's eyes | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney

For the next two weeks, I threw myself into planning Todd’s “big, proper birthday dinner.” If he wanted classy, I’d give him classy.

I drafted an impressive menu that had spinach-stuffed chicken, rosemary potatoes, a charcuterie board with cheeses I couldn’t pronounce, and a three-layer chocolate cake that would be the pièce de résistance.

Every day after work, I’d come home, tie my hair up, and get to work cleaning, organizing, and prepping. I even borrowed extra chairs and a folding table from our neighbor, Janice, just to make sure everyone would have a seat.

Todd’s contribution? Absolutely nothing.

A woman cleaning the house | Source: Pexels

A woman cleaning the house | Source: Pexels

“I’m swamped at work,” he said one night, kicking off his shoes and plopping onto the couch. “But you’ve got this, babe. You’re good at these things.”

Good at these things? I was so tired I could’ve cried.

But instead of snapping, I smiled and said, “Yeah, I’ve got this.”

The day of the party finally arrived.

I woke up early, determined to make everything perfect.

A woman standing in the hallway | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in the hallway | Source: Midjourney

The house was spotless. The table was set with matching linens and little name cards I’d handwritten. The appetizers were chilling, the main courses simmering, and the cake was decorated with edible gold flakes.

Yes, I went that far.

Todd strolled into the kitchen around noon, scrolling through his phone as usual. He barely glanced at the spread I’d laid out.

“Looks good,” he muttered as he opened the fridge to grab a soda.

“Looks good?” I repeated, half-joking but half-hoping he’d notice the effort I’d put in.

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

“Yeah,” he said, shutting the fridge door. Then, like it was no big deal, he added, “But hey, uh, don’t bother finishing all this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m heading to the bar with the guys to watch the game instead. Cancel everything. Tell everyone something came up.”

“You’re ditching your own birthday dinner?” I asked. “Todd, I’ve been planning this for weeks!”

“It’s not a big deal, Claire,” he shrugged it off. “Just call everyone and tell them we’re busy or something. They’ll understand.”

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

“They’ll understand?” My voice rose. “Todd, people are already on their way! You told me to make this decent and now you’re leaving?”

“I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the guys,” he said, ending the conversation.

Then, he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the door.

“You can’t do this, Todd!” I shouted, but he’d already left.

I was so heartbroken. I’d poured my heart, soul, and savings into this dinner, and he just walked out like it was nothing.

A woman looking outside the window | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking outside the window | Source: Midjourney

Cancel everything? After all the work I’d done?

But more than anything, I felt humiliated.

How could he treat me like this? How could he brush off all my efforts as if they didn’t matter?

I stared at the table while the candles flickered mockingly.

Is this what you’re worth, Claire? I asked myself. Is this how you’ll let Todd treat you? No. You can’t do this.

At that point, I decided I wouldn’t cancel the dinner. I won’t allow him to make me feel bad again.

A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney

If Todd wanted to act like a spoiled brat, I’d let him, but not without showing him what “embarrassing” really looked like. He had no idea who he was messing with.

I grabbed my phone and sent a group text to all the guests:

Party’s still on! Change of plans. Meet us at the bar on the main street near our place. Bring your appetite!

Then, I got to work.

I packed all the food and loaded it into the car. Then, I drove straight to the bar Todd had mentioned.

A woman driving | Source: Pexels

A woman driving | Source: Pexels

When I arrived, the place was already buzzing with noise. I looked around and spotted Todd sitting at a table with his buddies, his back to the door. He was completely oblivious to my presence.

“Uh, ma’am? Can I help you?” the bartender asked with wide eyes after noticing the trays of food I was carrying.

I flashed him my sweetest smile. “Oh, I’m just here to share a meal with some people who’ll actually appreciate it.”

A woman standing in a bar | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in a bar | Source: Midjourney

I picked a table near the bar, in full view of Todd’s group, and began unpacking dish after dish. The aroma of the food quickly caught everyone’s attention. Patrons nearby craned their necks to see what was going on.

“What’s this about?” one man asked, gesturing toward the feast I was setting up.

I raised my voice just enough to carry across the room. “Oh, this was supposed to be my husband’s birthday dinner. But he decided to ditch me and come here, so I thought, why let all this food go to waste?”

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

The room erupted in murmurs and laughter, and a few people even clapped. That’s when Todd finally turned around and spotted me.

He immediately stormed over while his buddies murmured amongst themselves.

“Claire! What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, his eyes darting nervously between me and the growing crowd.

I didn’t even look at him.

Instead, I addressed the nearest group of patrons. “You like ham? Help yourselves! There’s cake coming too.”

A close-up shot of food in a plate | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of food in a plate | Source: Pexels

Just as Todd sputtered out another protest, the front door swung open, and in walked his parents, my parents, his sister, and our cousins.

They looked at us, then at the food, and then at all the people munching on what was supposed to be a formal dinner.

Todd’s mom, bless her bluntness, walked right up to him. “What’s going on, Todd? Claire said to meet here for your birthday dinner, but why is she serving food in a bar?”

An older woman | Source: Midjourney

An older woman | Source: Midjourney

Todd looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“Uh, it’s complicated, Mom,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’d love to explain!” I intervened. “Todd decided that watching the game with his friends was more important than the dinner he demanded I plan. So, I brought the dinner to him!”

His dad shook his head. “How disrespectful,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, my mom grabbed a plate and said, “Well, the food smells amazing. Let’s eat!”

A woman in a bar | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a bar | Source: Midjourney

Soon, both our families joined the other patrons and dug into the feast I’d worked so hard on.

And Todd’s friends? They were still laughing at his expense and told him they’ll never forget this day.

By the time I brought out the cake, the bar felt like a full-blown party. On top of the cake, in bold frosting letters, I had written:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SELFISH HUSBAND!

The bar erupted in laughter when I read it aloud, but Todd wasn’t too happy about that.

A man laughing | Source: Pexels

A man laughing | Source: Pexels

“Was this really necessary, Claire?” he muttered under his breath.

I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. “Absolutely.”

Once everyone was done, I started packing up the empty trays. That’s when the bartender stopped me.

“Ma’am, you’re a legend,” he said. “Drinks on the house if you ever come back. Without him, of course!”

I chuckled. “Thank you! I’ll definitely drop by sometime.”

The families didn’t stick around long after the food was gone. My dad gave me a proud nod as he left, while Todd’s mom told him he could’ve done better.

An older woman speaking to her son | Source: Midjourney

An older woman speaking to her son | Source: Midjourney

As we drove back home, Todd kept muttering about being “humiliated.” Once we were back, he protested even more.

“Claire, you humiliated me in front of everyone!” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, Todd,” I shot back. “You humiliated yourself. And for the record, don’t expect another homemade meal anytime soon.”

He knew he couldn’t argue with me at that point. He just turned around and stormed off to the bedroom.

A doorknob | Source: Pexels

A doorknob | Source: Pexels

It’s been two weeks since that night, and I kid you not, Todd has changed. Well, mostly.

His unrealistic demands have dialed down, and he’s been unusually polite, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll pull another stunt like that. He hasn’t apologized outright for ditching me, but his sheepish behavior says enough.

I guess now he knows I’m not the kind of wife who’ll roll over and take his nonsense anymore. If nothing else, that’s a win in my book.

A woman standing by a window | Source: Pexels

A woman standing by a window | Source: Pexels

What would you have done if you were in my shoes?

My Parents Arranged a Marriage for Me, So I Decided to Test My Wealthy Fiancé

When Nadia returns home from college abroad, she has no choice but to agree to an arranged marriage to a wealthy man—a man chosen by her parents. But as the tentative date for their wedding draws closer, Nadia decides to test him, to truly understand who she’s marrying.

I never imagined that I’d find myself disguised as a homeless woman, sitting on a sidewalk outside of a restaurant. I sat there, hunched with a shawl wrapped around my shoulders.

A woman sitting on the floor | Source: Pexels

People passed me without paying any attention, as I watched for the sleek black car that often carried my fiancé, Danny.

Despite it being the 21st century, in my culture, arranged marriage still holds its own.

A black Mercedes-Benz | Source: Pexels

But I had been studying in America for the past four years, and my ideal of independence and personal freedom was something very different from what I had left home with.

Now, I found myself rebelling at every turn.

A woman in a red coat | Source: Pexels

When my parents first broke the news of my engagement to Danny, I was still ensconced in the States—my mind buzzing with new ideologies and lectures on autonomy.

“Now that you’ve been abroad and have studied,” my mother said, “it’s time for you to become a wife.”

I tried to protest, but it always fell on deaf ears.

A smiling woman in a white dress | Source: Pexels

“Nadia,” my mother said, “there is no choice here. Your father and I have done our research. Danny is a good one. He will take care of you.”

My mother moved around the kitchen, mixing a concoction of spices as she began to cook dinner.

Assorted cooking spices | Source: Pexels

“And that’s just it?” I asked, making some tea. “I have to marry this man?”

She nodded and smiled at me.

“Nadia, your father and I did it—we had an arranged marriage, and everything turned out well for us.”

A bride and groom holding hands | Source: Pexels

Now, I was faced with meeting a stranger whom I was going to marry—a stranger and his affluent family.

“You’re going to meet him soon, and his family. They own a line of restaurants, darling. They’re always going out of their way to help people.”

Restaurant interior | Source: Pexels

A few days later, we were all settled around the dining table. It was the first time that I was meeting Danny, and I had no idea what to expect.

When I stepped out of the house, he was there in the driveway, dressed in a suit—holding a gift bag and flowers.

A bouquet of roses | Source: Pexels

On first impression, he was good-looking, but I needed him to be more than just a nice face to look at.

This man was going to be my husband. I was stuck with him. And judging from the way my parents were behaving, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

A man wearing a suit | Source: Pexels

As my father welcomed Danny and his parents into our home, my mother brought out a tray of tea and sweets.

“I didn’t know what you’d like,” she said, “so I got everything.”

Tea on a tray | Source: Unsplash

Danny smiled at her; he seemed to genuinely care about impressing my parents. We exchanged polite conversation during the tea, and when it was time for us to have dinner, we sat around the table.

“Danny,” my father said, pointing to the head of the table, “sit here.”

My mother began to fuss over Danny and his family, ensuring that she piled their plates high with food.

A table full of food | Source: Pexels

“I need you to leave here knowing that you’ve been fed,” she said.

I poured myself a glass of juice. It was going to be a long meal.

“Why did you decide to study in America?” Danny asked me, frowning over his glass of water. “Didn’t you want to stay around family?”

Juice in glass bottles | Source: Pexels

“I applied not thinking that I could get in,” I admitted. “But then I did, and I wanted it to be a new challenge for me.”

“But being away for so long?” he pressed. “I bet you spent time in the library.”

“It was just four years. I came home a few times anyway.”

A library | Source: Pexels

“Family is very important to me, Nadia,” he said firmly.

I looked at my mother, who refused to meet my eye. Without me replying to Danny, the silence took over for a few moments. Only the sound of scraping cutlery and chewing could be heard.

A woman eating | Source: Unsplash

“Tell Nadia about your charity,” my father said, beaming at me.

“Oh!” Danny’s mother exclaimed, quickly putting her fork down.

She went on at length about how Danny feeds homeless people all the time, and that he had scheduled a roster for different areas around us.

Bags of food | Source: Unsplash

“Nobody will go hungry if we can help it,” Danny’s mother said.

My goodness, I thought to myself as I dug into my chicken. Do I really need to bear this for the rest of my life?

The dinner ended, and my husband-to-be left the house.

A plate of food | Source: Unsplash

“Don’t you love him?” my mother asked as we washed up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.

“I don’t know him, Mom,” I said.

“But you will,” she replied, drying the plates with a dish towel. “You will get to know him soon.”

A person washing a glass | Source: Pexels

I didn’t have the energy to deal with it further. I went to my bedroom and sat down, wondering how I could just give in to tradition after having been away and free for so long.

I yearned for my college dorm and the liberation that had come with it. But I also knew that I would have to let go of that.

A woman in her room | Source: Pexels

Instead, I had to wait for the day of my arranged marriage. As the months closed in, the wedding drew closer, and I began to get anxious—needing pills to sleep.

I didn’t know how I was going to marry Danny, knowing only the bare minimum about him.

One morning, while pouring myself some cereal, I decided that I would dress like a homeless person and wait outside the restaurant that Danny was based at. I needed to see how he would react to someone in need.

A bowl of cereal | Source: Pexels

As the car approached, I huddled into my disguise, my voice hoarse as Danny stepped out of the car.

“Excuse me, Sir,” I said. “Could you spare…”

Danny paused, his brows furrowing slightly.

“Ma’am, what do you need? I can’t just hand you money or food for the day. We need to help you long-term.”

A man frowning | Source: Pexels

My heart tightened.

“There’s a shelter not far from here,” he said. “I can take you there, my mother volunteers there, too. You’ll be safe there. You can get a meal, a shower, clean clothing, and we can talk about getting you on your feet.”

I stood up and pulled my shawl away, revealing myself to him.

“Nadia?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

“I was testing you, Danny,” I said. “I wanted to see if you really are the person they say you are. I just needed to know. How else can I marry you?”

Danny looked stunned, then a wry smile spread across his face.

“I guess I should be honest too, then. I’ve been horrible on purpose, hoping you’d call off the wedding.”

His candidness took me aback.

A smiling man | Source: Pexels

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair as he silenced his ringing phone.

“Because I thought it was all a farce. I didn’t want to be part of an arrangement. Not really. I knew that it needed to be done, because of my age. But I’ve wanted love. I’ve wanted to marry for love.”

A man holding a phone | Source: Pexels

As we sat down on a nearby bench, Danny opened up about his past.

“The parents you met are my adopted parents. My mother died when I was very young, and they took me in. I’ve built my entire persona to help people who are where I once was. It’s not just philanthropy—it’s personal.”

His words echoed in the cold air—each syllable heavy with emotion.

“Yes, I am successful. But I never wanted to use that success as leverage for a marriage. I wanted someone to see me, not my money or my past.”

Flowers on a grave | Source: Pexels

We talked through the evening, unraveling the misunderstandings and the pressure from our families. It was the first time we truly connected, seeing each other beyond the expectations set upon us.

In the weeks that followed, we began dating—real dates, filled with genuine laughter and shared dreams. Our parents saw the change in us, the way we looked at each other with newfound respect and affection.

Soon, we’ll be married, but now, I’m content with the reality of it.

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one:

When Elle’s mother passes away, she moves through the funeral in a daze. But then, she stumbles upon a man who closely resembles her. When he approaches her, he reveals that he is her biological father—who had been hidden away all this time. Elle doesn’t know whether she should tell her father and risk losing the only other parent she has ever known.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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