When my husband “accidentally” locked me in the basement so he could watch a basketball game with his friends, I realized how far he was willing to go to get his way. What happened next still blows my mind.
It all started when Ethan, my husband, suggested having his friends over to watch a game. I knew exactly what kind of chaos would follow, and I wasn’t on board. I should’ve put my foot down right then, but I didn’t.
Ethan’s friends are nothing like him. He’s a successful 35-year-old manager at a tech company, yet for some reason, he still keeps in touch with his high school buddies—guys who are loud, immature, and disrespectful. Every time they come over, our home turns into a frat house, and I’m left cleaning up after them.
“Dani, it’s just one game,” Ethan pleaded, flashing a hopeful grin. “The guys really want to watch it here. They can’t wait to see the new TV setup. It’ll be fun.”
Fun? Not for me. “You know how I feel about them, Ethan. Every time they come over, it’s like I’m living in a frat house. I’m not cleaning up after them anymore.”
Ethan’s smile faded. “It’s just one night, Dani. I barely get to see them because of work. Come on, go upstairs or something. Don’t be like this.”
I stood my ground. “No. They’re not coming here.”
“Please?” he tried again, his voice softer. “I’ll handle all the cleaning. I swear. Why don’t you invite your friends over, and you can hang out in the hot tub while we watch the game?”
I didn’t respond, and neither did he. But I knew what was coming next.
Sure enough, a few days later, the night of the big game rolled around. Ethan didn’t mention it again, which made me think he’d finally listened. He even bought me flowers while we were grocery shopping that day, asking me what I wanted for dinner like everything was perfectly normal.
He suggested we order takeout, and I happily agreed. “Fried chicken and fries sound perfect,” I said, not suspecting a thing.
Just as we were settling in, Ethan asked, “Can you grab the six-pack of beer from the basement fridge?”
“Sure,” I replied. “Let me finish drying my nails first.”
I didn’t think twice when I heard him on the phone as I headed down to the basement to get the beer. Little did I know, his friends were already on their way, and Ethan had other plans.
As I reached the top of the basement stairs with the six-pack in hand, the door slammed shut behind me. I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Ethan?” I called, rattling the door. Nothing. “Ethan!” I shouted louder. Still no answer.
I could hear the unmistakable sounds of laughter, muffled voices, and the game blaring from the living room. My heart sank. He locked me down here.
I banged on the door, shouting his name again, but it was no use. He and his friends were having a great time while I was trapped. Minutes turned into an hour, and I was stuck with no way out.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open. There stood Ethan, acting casual, like nothing had happened.
“Oh, Dani! I didn’t realize you were down here. I must’ve accidentally locked the door. You know I always lock the basement out of habit,” he said with a fake laugh.
“An accident?” I repeated, my blood boiling.
“Yeah, I didn’t hear you,” he continued, oblivious to the mess he had just caused.
I stormed past him without a word, heading upstairs. The sight of his friends lounging on the couch, empty beer bottles and chicken bones scattered everywhere, made my blood run cold. He didn’t accidentally lock me in the basement—he knew exactly what he was doing.
Ethan tried to smooth things over. “Babe, I’m sorry. The chicken’s all gone, but I can make you a grilled cheese or something.”
I ignored him, heading straight to bed. My fury was too deep to express in that moment. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me snap. Not yet.
Instead, I bided my time. A few nights later, when Ethan was fast asleep, I snuck out of bed and grabbed something I’d prepared earlier: a small tank with two harmless snakes, courtesy of my brother, who loved reptiles.
Ethan had always been terrified of snakes. My brother knew what had happened and had gladly lent me his pets, assuring me they would get the job done.
I cracked open the bedroom door and released the snakes, watching as they slithered across the carpet and disappeared under the bed. Then, I went downstairs and curled up on the couch with a blanket, waiting for my plan to unfold.
I called Ethan, waking him with a start. “What?” he muttered, groggy and irritated.
“You might want to wake up,” I said, my voice calm and steady.
“What are you talking about? Where are you?”
“There’s something in the room with you. A couple of things, actually.”
There was a brief silence before I heard a thud, followed by a gasp. “Oh my God, Danielle! What did you do? There’s something in here with me!” he screamed, pure terror in his voice.
I could almost picture him flailing around in the dark, panicked and helpless, just as I had been in the basement. It was poetic justice.
“Danielle! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to lock you in the basement! Please, let me out!” he begged.
I let him sweat for a bit, enjoying the sound of his frantic pleas. After a couple of hours, I finally went back upstairs and opened the door.
There he was, standing on the bed, pale and trembling.
“Try pulling that stunt again,” I warned him, my voice cold as ice. “And you’ll be out of my house and my life before you know it.”
He nodded, too shaken to say anything.
So, how would you have handled the situation?