Friday, February 13, 2009

Dear potentially soon-to-be-ex-or maybe-dead-husband,


I really didn't mind when you decided to go out for a drink after work at 4 p.m., yesterday. I understand that work sucks for you lately and also that you really don't get to spend much time with your friends. I was still fine at 7, when you said you were on your way home. At 8, I was simply relieved to hear that you were still ok, not having been in an accident or arrested for driving under the influence. I appreciated the email at 11 that said "am ok." It didn't even bother me at 1:45 a.m. when you called home for a ride- at least you wouldn't be driving and endangering any other poor souls who might have been on the roads at that hour.

It wasn't until 2:30, when you were safe in our bed after having been delivered safely home by the generosity of one of my family members who wouldn't have me waking up our 3 sleeping children and dragging them out into the cold dark night (a prospect that didn't concern you in the least) when you propositioned me- puke and liquor still pungent on your breath that I started getting annoyed.

I really didn't get upset until you had the nerve to pout when I thwarted your fumbling, groping advances. Why didn't I want to have sex with you, now? Why am I being so cold? Why do I have to be such a bitch "just because you went out for a few drinks?" Where has our romance gone?

Gee, I'm not sure where our romance went. Perhaps you left it at one of the bars you visited this evening? From my perspective, it seems to me that you and Captain Morgan were having a mighty fine romance, cavorting until 2 in the morning with nary a thought to your dutiful wife waiting, and worrying, and tending to your offspring and home. Seeing as how a night with Captain Morgan was more enticing than an evening with me and the kids, perhaps you should go fuck that empty bottle downstairs?

I'm sure Captain Morgan can warm your bed just as much as I. Captain Morgan probably won't even mind your hot stinking breath, or your too-hard groping, or when you collapse passed-out on top of his fragile glassy figure in a drunken stupor. I doubt that Captain Morgan will mind your weekend long trips to Knob Creek hunting for Wild Turkey. Likely too, that Captain Morgan won't take offense when you cancel your once-in-forever sitter because you don't want to spend any money- and then don't come home because you stopped at the bar to see Don Julio. Captain Morgan is sure to not care that you went ahead and spent what you would have spent on both sitter and dinner money in just a few short hours buying round after round while he sits at home, again.

What's that, darling? You didn't really mean those things that you said? You were just drunk and tired and weren't in control of yourself? Well, just who was in control then? Because the people that you said you were with say that they haven't seen you in months?


Your Black Velvet blanket is in the closet. You'll be getting no Southern Comfort from me.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

A-EFFING-MEN!!!Been there dont that.... have the seperation papers to prove it.

Christy said...

Holy crap! Is it potentially soon to be dead? Hopefully it's definitely soon to be ex. Glad you vented that out...I hope you find some 'me time' this weekend with the help of your family and friends...

Marinka said...

A totally kick-ass whine!

Comedy Goddess said...

Good for you!!

dizzblnd said...

WOW! You go girl! Very well put. Hilarious too I wouldn't even afford him the comforts of a velevet blanket.

Maura said...

Oooooh, snap! Excellent whine. Tell him Johnny Walker will be stopping by to kick his ass.

jennygirltherat said...

Crown Royal bags are excellent for stowing all the little pieces after you're finished with the chainsaw.
Metaphorically speaking.
Ahem.

Julia@SometimesLucid said...

Wow! You are a very patient woman.