My ex was (and still is) a freeloading asshole. I kind of knew this, but didn't know to what extent until I told her brother that we were getting divorced--which he was very happy to hear. Happy for me. So he told me a little story about when she was pregnant with our (now 16-y-o) son:
When pregnant, I went to almost every single dr appt. did all the training. Read tons of books. Helped get the nursery ready. I was a very involved dad-to-be.
Tl;dr version: I missed a dr appt (only missed 2 up til then, 7th month), so she took advantage of that and told me the dr put her on bed-rest for the remaining 2 months. Because we'd had a miscarriage 9 yrs earlier and she was having some Braxton-Hicks contractions this time, I didn't question it.
But of course the dr never did that. The ex just wanted to take it easy and make me do all the work, because she knew I would. Laid around on her fat ass while I was steppin' and fetchin', doing all household duties and working full-time. I was exhausted. But I never complained.
Bitch totally played me. Why did I believe her? Why shouldn't I? Obviously if you can't trust your spouse, there's nothing left.
When i decided I'd had enough of her abusive shit (11 years later), "we" were getting the house ready to sell. This was when Obama was handing out $8,000 cashy money rebates for first-time homebuyers. I knew that when the deadline passed, we'd have trouble selling. So I was busting ass to get the house ready: new from lawn; power-washed and repainted exterior (painting was contracted out); replaced 8' fence in back yard; new carpet; repainted interior; replaced moldings; replaced window stools; repaired linoleum; replaced tile. During all this, she did nothing to help. Just bitched at me about how we were gonna miss the deadline.
As I'm working on the last phase, reprinting interior, she's standing around, bitching, then very sarcastically asks if she need to do something because clearly I'm incompetent. I'm in the living room rolling paint onto the 10' ceiling, furniture piled in the middle and covered in plastic, and just stare at her. "You see me painting? Do I have to ask you to grab a fucking brush‽‽‽"
Yeah, we missed the deadline. It was my fault. Still put the house on the market. Didn't sell. She has it now.