So, me (23, male) and my wife (25, female) were in a real bad spot with money. Rent was two months late, the car was makin’ this awful clunkin’ noise, and we were down to eatin’ whatever was left in the kitchen—mostly stale crackers and some old peanut butter. We were stressed out all the time, arguin’ about bills, and I was startin’ to think we’d end up on the street. It was that serious.

Last weekend, we went to this house party a buddy of mine was throwin’. It wasn’t anything big—just a bunch of people drinkin’ cheap beer, playin’ music too loud, and hangin’ out in a cramped livin’ room. We figured it’d be a break from our problems. I’m standin’ by the kitchen, grabbin’ a drink, when this guy—let’s call him Chad—starts talkin’ to me. He’s goin’ on about how he’s makin’ a killin’ with crypto, actin’ like he’s some big shot. I’m half-listenin’, noddin’ along, when he leans in and says, “Hey, your wife’s real pretty. I’d pay you 800$ in Solana to spend a night with her.” I freeze, thinkin’ he’s drunk or jokin’, but he’s got this serious look, pullin’ out his phone to show me his wallet app.

I look over at my wife—she’s across the room, laughin’ with some friends, wearin’ this dress she loves—and my mind’s spinnin’. We’re so broke, and 800 bucks could fix everything. I pull her aside, heart poundin’, and tell her what Chad said. She stares at me like I’ve lost it, but then she goes, “How much again?” I say, “800 dollars.” She’s quiet for a minute, then says, “If it gets us out of this mess, okay. But he better not be weird.” I’m shocked she’s even considerin’ it, but we’re that desperate.I go back to Chad and say, “Alright, you got a deal.” He grins, sends me the payment right there—I check my phone, and it’s real, 800 bucks worth. They head upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms.

The party’s loud, nobody notices, and I’m sittin’ on the couch, starin’ at my screen, feelin’ this mix of relief and somethin’ sick in my stomach. An hour later, Chad comes stompin’ down the stairs, face all red, yellin’, “What the hell was that? This ain’t what I paid for!” My wife’s right behind him, wrapped in a blanket, shoutin’, “It’s not my fault, you ass!” Turns out, she was on her period and didn’t think to say anything. Things got messy, and Chad flipped out, sayin’ he “expected better.”He storms out, slammin’ the door, and starts blowin’ up my phone, demandin’ his money back. I tell him, “No refunds, man, it’s done.” My wife’s mad at me for not “checkin’ with her first,” and I’m kinda mad she didn’t warn me about the timing. But we’ve got the cash now, and the landlord’s off our back, so I figured we came out ahead.

Then it all went downhill. Word got around—someone at the party must’ve overheard somethin’. My friends started textin’ me, callin’ me disgusting, sayin’ I’m a coward for “sellin’ my wife like that.” One of ‘em even said he can’t look at me the same anymore. Then my parents found out. Mom called me sobbin’, sayin’ I’ve shamed the whole family and how could I do this to my wife. Dad just texted, “You’re no son of mine,” and hasn’t answered my calls since. They’re all pilin’ on, tellin’ me I’m a total jerk for lettin’ this happen. I get that Chad’s a sleaze, but I’m startin’ to wonder if I really screwed up here. I mean we really needed the money. AITAH?