On my birthday, my husband gave me a wilted bouquet from the trash bin: I had to get back at him for such a “wonderful” gift

On my birthday, I received… a wilted bouquet.

— Where are the flowers from? — I asked my husband coldly. — From our trash bin?

— What’s wrong with that? Some idiot threw them out too early. They’ll last two more weeks, — my husband replied calmly. — They’re nice flowers…

I couldn’t believe my ears.

— Seriously? You decided to give me flowers from the trash bin? Is that all I deserve?

— Actually, it’s not a gift for you. I said I wasn’t going to give anything. Just for decoration, — he shrugged.

That’s when I exploded:

— I’m so tired of your cheapness! What will you bring next time? Leftovers? Do you think that’s normal?

— What’s wrong with that? Flowers are flowers. Besides, they were on the lid of the bin, not inside, — he noted.

I felt so disgusted I didn’t say anything else. Just went to my room. Cried for a long time. Felt sorry for myself.

The flowers stayed in the house for a couple more days, then he threw them away himself, back where he took them from.

I stopped being upset. But forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. So I decided to give him a “gift” on his anniversary that he definitely wouldn’t forget.

Here’s what I did

Two months passed. Alexey turned forty. Superstitious, he refused to celebrate, saying it was “not customary.”
I congratulated him by message and promised a gift.

I came home early and symbolically set the table.

He came closer to nine. Looked at the table and grumbled:
— You didn’t have to go to such trouble.

— I thought it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate a little. Besides, I bought you a present! — I said happily and ran to the room.

I came back with a box tied with a red ribbon and handed it to him.

— What’s this? — He shook the box.

— Open it and find out, — I smiled.

He curiously pulled off the ribbon, opened the lid, and looked inside.

It was so funny to watch his expression change.

— Socks and… underwear? — he asked disgustedly, pulling out a sock with two fingers. — Why without tags and faded? Has someone already worn them?

— Yes. You don’t have to buy new things all the time! I bought them discounted at a second-hand shop, — I replied cheerfully on purpose.

He got angry:
— How did you even think of that?! Ew! — and threw the box on the floor.

I looked at him calmly and said:

— Exactly the same way you thought of giving me flowers from the trash bin.