Rip it out of my chest and throw it in the street

After two days of no communication, you tell me you won't gamble until we've had a conversation about your gambling. I hope you are thinking, thinking about how you are finally going to protect me and provide something for me. Throw me a bone, will ya?

Kyle's grandmother gets rooms comped at a big casino where she loses big money on a regular basis. We had made plans to go there for Mother's Day weekend (while you are still thinking about how you can protect me). You ask me if I will go. I say let's take a pass on it; casinos put bile in my mouth. You promise that if I go, you won't gamble. Despite your impeccable history as an inveterate liar, I somehow sense that this time you are telling the truth. I was right, you were. We went, we stayed, you didn't gamble. The room was beautiful. Laura did my hair: highlights, lowlights and a cut. We dined. We swam. I played slots and you catered to my every whim. You, Laura and Kyle treated my like a queen. It was truly a weekend centered on me. I had a terrific time. And you even paid for everything.

Ah, but we didn't have the 'conversation' yet. Who is supposed to initiate this type of conversation? You? Me? I ask you what you have come up with as a plan to protect me. You say the only thing you can think of is that we get a divorce, split everything down the middle, and then keep living together. I say 'no can do'.

Finally, after almost three weeks, I suggest you and I get a divorce, you sign over all the assets to me, and we continue living together as husband and wife, through thick and thin, I will be there for you till the very end. You say that won't do. After all, there are so many things you aren't happy with.......