A marriage counselor whose marriage failed wrote a piece for the Huffington Post.
She and her husband had sex three times in fifteen years. That's serious.
But aside from that, her big complaint is that he didn't read her books. Really? And he wore shoes on the white sofa and got shoe polish on it. She wept as she tried to clean it up. Are you kidding me?
She then goes into a litany of tricks she employed to get more from him. Has it occured to her that these are shallow, surface maneuvers that don't really address anything?
If your husband is a slob, don't get a white couch. In fact, I can't think of any circumstance where a white couch is good for anybody.
If you want to eat together, cook a meal for both of you and serve it together.
I can't believe she escalated a clean, white couch and reading her books to the level of divorce. Every writer needs a reader. Get someone else. My husband writes certain material and I can't read it. And if the topic is saving your marriage, and there are problems there, of course he would feel uncomfortable reading it.
I know I'm judging here. There's probably some awful stuff she didn't want to make public, right?