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Remember when I wrote things with my husband were on an even keel at the moment? Well that moment has passed. We’ve now hit rough seas.
We went out this week to see a live band, an 18-piece big band. Jazz isn’t hugely my thing, but seeing as I’m married to a jazz musician, I make an effort. Some of his friends from his own big band were going to be there (in the crowd), so I said ‘yes’.
I have an 18-month old baby who still can’t sleep through the night, so I’m normally shattered fairly early in the evening. I have been known to put baby to sleep then simply crash out at the same time. So to go out on a ‘school night’ where I need to get up and be super mum early the next morning, is a huge effort for me!
Babysitters were arranged and we headed out just after 8pm (my bed-time most nights). When we arrived, his friends were already there, as well as two ‘recruits’ who had yet to formally join the band he plays in. One of these young recruits was female.
To cut a long story short, he drank too much, ended up speaking too loudly in his ‘I’m half-drunk silly voice’, and I’d had enough. He was buying rounds with his mate (an utterly stupid Australian custom where one friend tries to keep up with the drinking pace of his other friends so they keep buying each other non-stop drinks with barely a breath between them). Ugh. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. At about 10.30pm, I said I wanted to leave.
My husband looked at me as if to say “Really? You want to go? Now??” He didn’t have much fucking choice, to be honest. He was drunk as a skunk and I rarely drink, so I was his ride home. “I’m tired,” I said. I left out the bit “I want to leave before you fucking embarrass yourself and me.”
So we got up to go. I said bye to his friends, and he leaned in to KISS the young recruit. Seriously, after the episode with Gina the overweight giraffe from his band, he KISSED this young girl?! She looked embarrassed. I felt embarrassed for her! Not to mention how seriously my husband outranks her which could be cause for action, if she was that way inclined. God. What a dick my husband is.
We walked out of the club and my husband starts chirping on about what a great night it was, and how he loves listening to live bands, and how great it was that we both went.
“Why the fuck did you have to kiss that girl?” I ask. “She looked MORTIFIED!”. He was lost for words… “Sorry – I didn’t think…”. “No, you fucking did not, because you’re off your face and you’ve been throwing back the beers non-stop since we walked through the door. Fuck, you’re 42, not 18! Can’t you PACE yourself when you go out to have a good night? Why do you have to act so fucking stupid?”
What could he say?
“Sometimes I wonder if you ask me out to these things so you have a fucking ride home!” I yelled as we walked along the dark footpath to our car. Low blow, I know.
Anyway, that was Wednesday night. It’s now Friday morning. We’ve barely said two non-essential words to each other since then.
It was his thoughtless affair that turned me into a psycho bitch.
He can deal with it.