Chihuahuas are being saved. Pit bulls are even finding new homes. But my neglected and/or downtrodden girlfriends?
They have no place to go.
If I had enough money, I’d start an Unhappy Wife/Girlfriend Rescue and Refuge. It’d be a place for gals to retreat when their husbands or boyfriends were treating them like crap—not respecting their wishes; not looking out for their best interests; not caring how many tears were being shed.
I’d buy acres and acres of land, and build quaint little cottages for the girls and their kids. We would grow vegetable gardens and raise chickens and goats (to make goat cheese, of course). I’d get an on-site therapist to help them work through their “stuff.” I’d make Fridays “mani-pedi night” where we all sat around doing our fingers and toes, wearing our jammies, watching Footloose and Grease. I would encourage the girls to follow their dreams, despite financial setbacks. I would build them back up after their men had knocked them down.
And if they decided to sever the ties to their past, I would help them set up online dating profiles and design manifestation collages to attract men who were committed to honoring, cherishing, and listening to them. I would rehab them into daters that knew when to trust their instincts and recognize when they weren’t receiving the treatment they deserved.
Like the canine rescue programs, I would hope that after living under my roof, I could send them out to better (or drastically reformed) homes, where they would enjoy long, happy lives rolling in the grass and driving with their heads hung out the window.