My Lovely Wife and I went to dinner on Friday at Mabel and Allie’s.

It was a pleasant evening. They fed us a wide variety of cheeses, thus ensuring my undying fealty. The meal consisted of a variety of Lesbian Lebanese (God! I gotta stop doing that!) delicacies. The conversation was stimulating. (Although I may have made too many submarine references. But really! Who doesn’t love saying “DIVE! DIVE! DIVE!” over and over again? [Looks around.] See? No one!)

But then it happened.

My Lovely Wife met the love of her life.

And it wasn’t me.

It seemed innocuous enough. I kept talking, oblivious to what was happening directly in front of me. But while I was yammering away, My Lovely Wife had snatched her heart back from me and had offered it to another.

The evening ended and we went home. And — bit by bit, moment by moment — I saw my marriage crumble before my very eyes.

Our conversations grew distant and stilted. Meals passed in a strained silence, broken only by my attempts to lighten the mood by singing a description of what I was eating. (Example: “Oatmeeeeeeal… you craaaaa-zy fibrous bastard, with your swinging BROOOOOWN-SUGAR TOPPING, into my belly, we will meet, and become oooooooooone…”)

When she wasn’t looking, I would see her staring off into space, eyes glistening. At night, I would lie awake for hours, tormented by the gulf between us.

It’s…

…

I’m sorry. It’s just so hard.

…

I’ll just get down to it.

She’s gone now. Off with her new lover. I hear they’ve put a down-payment on a condo. They’re talking about getting a dog.

They’re happy.

She’s happy.

…

Me?

I’m going through the motions. Life… damn. It’s so hard. I know it’ll get better. It has to get better. But for now…

It’s hard.

…

I… just have to get this off my chest.

Damn you, Mabel.

Damn you and your damned flour-less chocolate cake.

It stole her from me.

…

However, I am going out for coffee on Friday with your baked brie with sautéed onions. Fingers crossed!

• Mabel Says: “Are you happy? Only if you are…”

No! I am NOT tearing up. Shut UP!

I just got some… cornflakes… in my eye.

Yes — “CORNFLAKES”.

Excuse me… I need to go wipe the cornflakes out of my eyes.

…

Stupid Mabel. Ruining my tough-guy persona.

Fig. 1: Pictorial manifestation of my tough-guy persona

This post has been sitting in my Drafts folder since July 15, 2005. Yup. One year, six months and two days ago.

And for the longest time, this post existed for no other reason than it was blackmail material against Mabel (who recently drank the blogging Kool-Aid).

But Mabel has decided that he no longer wants this hanging over him and has given me the go-ahead to post it.

So, I opened it up… and now I’m wondering what the big deal was.

Whatever.

Let’s all jump back in time to the Summer of 2005…

[Reality goes wavy to indicate time travel.]

…

We had a practice at Rainbow Haven the other day, in anticipation of the Parlee Beach Ultimate Tournament coming up in eight days. However, we got driven off the beach by the marauding swarms of mites and black flies.

(Actually, I wasn’t bothered by the bugs until a certain someone that shall remain nameless *cough*stupidfriggingMabel*cough* said, “I’ve gotta go. If I go fast enough, maybe they’ll leave me and start to bother you.” He did. And they did. Bastard.)

Once we got out to the road, we alternated walking and and swatting, swatting and walking. (Good times.)

Then the following exchange occurred between myself, Mabel, and Allison:

Mabel: Hey! Allison — you have a big smear of blood on your leg.

Allison: Oh yeah, will you look at that. Well, he paid for that.

Mabel: Yeah… with his life!

Allison: Yeah!

Mabel: [To me] It was like the time I woke up and there was a bug on my bum. I killed it and there was blood everywhere and I said, “He paid for that… WITH HIS LIFE!”

Me: You got blood on your bum from a bug? [Pause.] A bloody bum bug?… You had bug bum blood?… Bug bum bloody buggy bum buggy bum blood! Bloo-

Mabel: [To Allison] Great. Jason will amuse himself for HOURS with this. He’ll be riding home on his bike going — [puts on prissy British accent] — “Bloody bummmy bugger bummy blood! Bloody bugger bug bummy bum! Buggy bum blood bummy bug bum blood buggy bum bum bum!!!”

And the funny thing is, I did. And giggled. Oh… so very much giggling.

I don’t know where the British accent came from though. That’s just weird.

Bum. Hee.

…

[Reality goes koo-koo-bananas indicating a time travel return trip.]

There. It’s finally out there.

Was it worth it? You be the judge.