I spent a year saving for my dream designer bag. I skipped takeout, sold what I could, and watched every penny. Then, during a casual Sunday lunch, my husband gave it to his mom without asking. He thought it was no big deal. He was wrong, and he found that out the hard way.

It started with a neighborhood potluck Jake and I hosted a few years ago, and a casserole dish.

I’d spent hours making my grandmother’s spinach artichoke casserole in my favorite ceramic baking dish, a vintage piece I’d found in a thrift shop.

Our neighbor Sue couldn’t stop raving about that casserole.

“This is incredible!” she kept saying, going back for thirds. “You have to give me the recipe!”

When the night wound down and people started claiming leftovers, Jake handed her the entire dish. Not just the food, the actual dish, like some kind of “compliment the food, get the dish free” deal.

“She loved it!” he beamed at me like he’d just solved world hunger. “We can get another one.”

“No, we can’t,” I whispered, still in shock.

“That was a vintage dish, Jake. They don’t make them anymore. I found it at a thrift store, and it meant a lot to me.”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Just… don’t give away my stuff without asking me, okay? If you want to gift people things from our house, use your own stuff.”

He nodded. “You’re right, babe. I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”

I believed him then, but we’ve been married for eight years now, and Jake hasn’t changed much.

Don’t get me wrong; I adore my husband and we’re an amazing team, but his propensity for being generous with other people’s stuff still drives me up the wall!