I thought my marriage was sailing smoothly until my mate dropped the bombshell question.
I tied the knot quite early, headoverheels for love. We dated for four years before finally becoming husband and wife, and weve weathered more than a few storms together.
Weve been sharing a roof in a cosy flat in Manchester for over six years now. I trust my husband completely, and I trust myself, too. George is as sweet as a treacle tart, doting and thoughtful, always pitching in with the household chores. He isnt exactly the boldest or the brawniest bloke, and calling him a looker would be generous, but his heart is genuinely lovely. Hes brimming with positivity and a steadfast belief in goodness, which keeps me charged enough to tackle lifes nastiest curveballs.
The downside? Hes chronically indecisive and cant seem to step out of his comfort bubble, let alone march forward. Shyness is his second nature. In the six years weve lived together, not much has shifted.
He never bothers looking after himself or his health. Any hint of change makes him wobble. George is almost a decade older than meIm twentysix, loving life, with a great job, my own Mini, and a mortgage on our little terrace house that were chipping away at each month. Then my friend Charlotte asked, Honestly, why do you even need him?
That was the moment my personal bliss did a backflip, and now Im sitting here wondering, What on earth am I really doing with him?
