But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really f***d it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Little Lion Man (Mumford And Sons)- my song of the week.
We were at a local housewarming party last Saturday night. I was mingling, as you do, you know, and saw this one mommy I knew. A lovely lady. The usual type. Nice, blond. Two small children. I came over and chatted to her for a little while. Normally, if there is any gossip worth knowing, I would know. So, imagine my shock when having asked her where her other half was, I heard a casual, but not at all expected:
‘Oh, he has left.’
Left? What do you mean ’left’?
‘Oh,- she said. –‘He had been cheating on me whilst I was pregnant with the second baby. I confronted him a few times and he denied it…and then he just turned around and left.’
Oh, my goodness. Poor woman. How terribly scandalous for this posh little commuter village!
To be honest, I was shocked. Back home, I worked for an oil company, and witnessed a lot of that kind of stuff going on. You know. Expats coming on assignments. Young, pretty girls-very friendly. Boring suburban lives (and wives) back home, somewhere in the galaxy far, far away…. The excitement of young exotic sex hits the brain: BAM! Crisis.
But hold on a minute! That is over there. But here? In this lovely suburb, where husbands are so well-trained and obedient? Where they are expected to get up at 7, commute to the city to make money to pay for these ludicrously expensive houses? To return at 6:30pm, bathe the kids and eat their lasagna? Mow the lawn, wash the car and spend the rest of their weekend on ‘quality family time’ with kids… In this well-planned scheme, how on Earth would something like that be possible?
But I guess, the reality is…: s**t happens everywhere.
And I often get this scary feeling, that most of the wives around here are just a little too relaxed.They don’t seem to ever suspect something like that might happen. OK it might, but to someone else. In movies. In other countries. In council houses. But not to them. They got married, chucked away their careers, heels and naughty knickers, had children. They feel it is all sorted now. Forever.
But occasionally, someone rebels. Because most of men, deep inside, hate to grow up.
They don’t want to face the responsibilities. They get bored. They want to see lacy underwear and suspenders. To drive a Porsche, while listening to some cool rock music. But all they are allowed to listen to at home is Travis. And the closest to a Porsche they can have is Porsche Cayenne — a pathetic alternative created for suburban husbands.
And they panic. They feel they have not lived enough. They don’t want to grow old and wear sleepers.
So I guess, I can understand. It is scary how well I can understand.
But I am still sad for that local mommy. Because it is not her fault.
As I said, s**t happens. Sadly, more often than some of us want to think.
Yesterday, talking to another friend in a park, I found out three of her friends experienced the same problem. 'One is an accident', she said. 'Four is an epidemic!'
I guess, it is time to start paying more attention to our husbands….Yeah, right. Who am I kidding?