Date Night, But Not for Me

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Wife has a date. Husband didn't know.
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maninconn
maninconn
2,089 Followers

"Which dress should I wear?"

Meet my wife Reina. You can call her Rei. That's how she spells it, but it's pronounced like a ray of sunshine, which she is every day. I guess you can tell I love her. I always have. Well, if you consider "always" to be since I met her in the sixth grade. My family moved to town during the summer, so I was the new kid when sixth grade started in the fall. I met her at the bus stop, and we got to talking. She hasn't stopped since.

"The black one dear."

She fast became my best friend. We were inseparable all though school. Not romantically, I mean like girlfriend/boyfriend. And we both had different interests. I played baseball and ran track. She was gymnast, and became a cheerleader in high school. Oh and she was a swimmer and a diver in the summer.

"Honey, which shoes do you like better?"

We did our homework together more days than not, and liked the same books and movies. Our parents became friendly, so we were even together for family barbecues, and even a couple of vacations.

"Depends on the occasion, dear. Are we doing something special tonight?"

"Well, no. This is something different, and you're not going."

"But today is Friday dear, and we always have 'date night' on Friday!"

It was true. We started dating in high school out of self defense. I couldn't stomach girl drama, with all the notes being passed about who liked me, or inquiring what I thought of this girl or that. And the entire thing about the guy having to get up the courage to risk rejection to cold call some piece of feminine fluff, and if she said yes you were responsible for keeping an adolescent teen female entertained for the evening while she was hoping for Prince Charming, well it's torture.

"Yes darling, and I'm terribly sorry, but something important has come up, and I'm going to have to ask you to take a date night rain check this week."

Well that's odd. She always looked forward to date night. Even before the kids went off to school (our youngest left for college last fall, and we've been empty nesters for eight months), we never missed a night. If we couldn't find a babysitter, Friday nights became family dates, with us hitting a less expensive, though less romantic eatery, and hitting the bowling alley or a PG movie instead of pursuing something more adult.

"Darling you never answered me about the shoes."

That's another thing about Rei, she can't make up her mind. She'll be the first one to tell you she is 'wishy washy.' I like the way she says that. The problem we have, is that when she can't make up her mind, she generally asks me, and then chooses the opposite of what I suggest.

"If we were going together, I'd say the black stilettos because they make your legs look fantastic. Since we're not, I'd rather not know other men are being treated to that view while I'm elsewhere, cheated of your company. So I'll suggest the black pumps if it's formal, or those cute gray flats if you'll be on your feet all night."

She mumbled something in reply, but I didn't quite catch it. I swore I heard something about being on her back, but that didn't make sense. Oh well, anyway. We started dating in high school just to keep other girls, and boys for Reina, from bothering us with that ridiculous adolescent dating dance.

Of course on Prom night, she almost went with Darryl Hall. No, it wasn't really the singer, his real name was David Jensen, but he looked like Darryl, so we all called him that. She had kind of a crush on him, but when he asked her, she got cold feet and ran to my side begging me not to ask Joan Jett. Yeah, you get the picture, Kimmie was the spitting image! So we went together, instead of with rock star clones. Someplace in the middle of the first slow dance, she came to the realization she couldn't have gone with Darryl because she was in love with me. It sounded good to me, because I was pretty sure I couldn't manage without her either. So we kissed.

We kissed again. And some more, and well...you get it. Relax you uppity goody two shoes moralists, we were both eighteen already, we both wanted what happened and we both agreed to skip the rest of prom and Kevin Kaufman's all night post prom party, and we both wanted to get into the back seat in the parking lot by the very empty beach and we both wanted to kiss, fondle, feel, lick, suck and memorize ever inch of each other's body. Sorry Mrs. Fanning. You can circle that sentence with red as a run on all you would like, but only a run sentence can describe the wild and frantic mood that accompanied the mutual termination of each other's virginity.

"Do you like the pearl necklace and earrings, or the gold beads?"

Damn, I now have a boner from my suggestive description of our run on prom night of sexy teenage love, and I have to talk to my wife. I have to speak coherently too.

"Dear, if you are wearing the little black dress, your come fuck me heels, and the sex in a bottle perfume that is sitting on the hallway table beside them, the only choice is the pearls."

I love my wife. I love her so much. She actually chose each piece I advised tonight. That's very rare. I guess she must have something in mind.

"Reina, I thought I suggested the pumps, or flats if you are going to be on your feet a lot."

"Yes darling, you did. But you also alluded to the stilettos being sexy, so I chose them."

"But I also said I didn't think you should wear them when I was not around to fend off the hormone driven rabble you will certainly attack if you wear them. Especially if you wear dark hose. You'll look irresistible then."

"Oh thank you Evan, I was just about to ask if I should wear dark or suntan."

"Rei, this is pretty odd! You actually took all of my suggestions, but haven't even told me where you are going tonight!"

"Yes dear, that's true. I took your suggestions because you are undoubtedly the most experienced person in the world at becoming aroused by what I wear, so I listened to you. Believe me, I fought the urge to choose the blue dress because I love the feel of its slinky fabric. But you said LBD, so LBD it is. You are right, pearls, and stilettos are no brainers."

"Why not the pumps or flats? Your feet will be awful tomorrow when I finally get a chance to take my wife out on the town."

"My feet will be fine, I won't be walking much. As a matter of fact, much of the night I plan to be flat on my back."

Did I mention how much I love my wife? Did you get the same implication from what she said as I did? To say a red flag is waving is an understatement. This may take a little more discussion, but Reina, my Rei, my life long love, my history, my BFF, may have just nuked my world. I felt a need for some sort of barrier before I went on. As I understand, fallout can be as hazardous as the initial explosion.

"I'm not sure I understand," I choked back tears as I picked up the morning paper and raised it between us, even though she wasn't in the room.

"Well darling, it's like this. I have one more wishy washy question to ask, and I beg you not to vary from the two responses I offer as your choice. Would you mind if I spent the entire weekend with Sheldon Bock, or shall I come home really late Saturday night?"

I loved my wife. Have you noticed I just shifted tense on the verb "love?" Throughout this little narrative, I have clearly declared that I love my wife in the present tense. Be my guest, check back. I'll wait for you. See? It's true. Now I've said that I loved my wife. Because the pit in my gut, where I feel like I just took a heavyweight champion's strongest right means there is no room left to love this woman. I'm stunned. What do I do!? Don't put the paper down. Don't. Look. At. Her. Don't even look close to her. Keep cool, you have to answer. Calmly Evan, calmly.

"Stay all weekend."

Well done, buddy. Oh no, don't hold that breath. Exhale. Inhale. Repeat. Humans need air, especially when they're stressed.

Quiet.

She's thinking. She must have expected an outburst, or an objection. Damn this hurts so much. I am so fucking glad for this newspaper. Shit! It's upside down. She can't notice that! It would be worse than...

"Yes Rei, stay as long as you like."

I can't remember her being this quiet for this long.

"Are...are you sure? Really darling? Because I..."

"No, stay."

I deserve a fucking Oscar for this performance. No cracks in my voice, no indecision. No clue what the fuck I'm going to do next...calm. Stay calm. Breeeeeeaaaaaathe.

"Stay as long as you like. As a matter of fact, no need to return at all. Just stay. Stay...period."

"Listen darling, it isn't everything it seems. I love you terribly, but you've been my only love since sixth grade, and with the children gone I'm afraid I've had a lot of time on my hands to think of what I might have missed."

I wasn't about to let her continue this diatribe. I think I'll put her off balance.

"When did you decide I was inadequate as a lover?"

"Oh Darling, don't think that! It isn't anything about you..."

"Am I lacking in endurance? Am I boring in bed? Shall we spice things up with whips and chains? Or by swinging from the chandelier in the dining room while copulating in mid air? Is it something about my size? Do I smell offensive in bed?"

"No Evan, none of that is true, especially when you consider I've nothing to compare it too. That may be part of the problem. I could date a bit, and might even find out the grass is greenest in my own yard..."

"I see. Wait for me Evan, while I got out and see how you stack up with other guys. Now how might I compare to some young stud like Sheldon! I'm over fifty, worn down from a life time of working to support the large family you always wanted. Six kids! So I might have a hard time thinking my stories are going to stack up to a guy who spends his earnings on skiing and sports cars while I am spending mine on tuition for our babies. Yes, definitely go for the entire weekend. We can't have you wasting your time with another night at home with a boring old husband!"

I was quite proud of my control. I could hear from her breathing and the shake in her voice that I was getting to her.

"Darling, try to understand..."

"No, I won't. What else might it be that makes me so inadequate you'd run to the arms of another man? Don't I make enough? Am I inattentive? Do I do my share around the house? Don't spoil you enough? Don't I pamper you? Respect you? Tell me Reina! How did I go wrong?"

"Darling..."

"I hate that you can love me so little as to dump me after all we've been through, and with no warning whatsoever, and still believe you deserve to call me Darling. I'm not being treated as a darling, so perhaps you should respect me enough to use my name, rather than a term of endearment."

"Very well Evan, I will do as you wish..."

"No. Not Evan. We were friends, and we were on a first name basis. Until five minutes ago, I would have called you my best friend. But best friends know each other better than this. All this happened without me getting an inkling that something was off with 'us.' I still don't even know what it was that drove you away. What happened? Did I do something unworthy of a real man? So unworthy that you had to make me feel this low? This Inferior? This Small? Did I hurt you? Lie to you? Cheat on you? Betray you in any way? What did I do that was not worth your confidence as my best friend? Did I pee in your coffee one day? Did I miss something? No, no darling, and dear or love. Don't even call me Evan. Call me Mr. Carson."

"Now this is just silly. We've been married thirty years. You can't expect me to start calling you..."

"Mr. Carson. Good, that's clear, we are no longer on a first name basis."

I felt good about my calmness. I felt good that I had fixed my paper without her noticing it had been upside down. I felt good about leaving her with no chance to finish a single thought, or answer a single one of my questions. I still didn't have a plan, but I intended to keep control of the ball. Then it came to me. Take it all away. I didn't need a divorce to take it all away. Step one, attack the very roots of our relationship. She sold out our friendship. Step two coming up, take back her surname."

"So Miss Dale, how long have you been doing things with this guy that don't pass the husband test?"

She couldn't answer, she just stammered about a bit. That meant she has been indulging in exactly such non-husband approved activities as I imagined.

"I'll bet it's six months. Why? Because that's how long you usually deliberate on important matters. Everytime you wanted a child, it took you six months to decide, then go on birth control, then start that blasted scheduled regimen of trying to conceive according to body temperature and tables of the lunar orbit and whether high tide was stronger in Boston or Jakarta."

Again no answer. I don't think my reaction was at all in her script.

"Well let's see. Let's do the husband test checklist. Have you gone out with him already?"

No answer.

"Let me guess, Romantic lunches? Maybe a movie when you could get away?"

Silence.

"Have you held his hand?"

I was dying to look at her, but I knew I'd lose it.

"Has his arm been around you, and when it was did you snuggle in? Have you and he developed cute names for each other, or do you call him darling too? Have you kissed? Did either of you slip the other the tongue? Has he taken your shirt off? You his? Has he felt your breasts? Have you told him your favorite color? Stories about the kids growing up? That you cry at the movies when the hero dies? That you hate speed limits, but not as much as you hate wheels squealing around a curve? That you like banana pancakes and sing the Jack Johnson song while you cook them? How many times have you fucked?"

"NONE!" She shrieked. "WE NEVER FUCKED!"

"You should."

"Darling..."

"No. Unh unh."

"Sorry."

"Go, stay all weekend, or all month, or all year, or for the rest of your life."

"Evan, look at me. Put the paper down. I need you to understand."

"No I won't put my paper down and look at you. If I do, I will either tear your head off with my bare hands, or cry so hard I'll flood the town. I don't want to see you. Just go. Oh, and the pearl earrings? Leave them behind with the wedding rings and the rest of my family's jewelry."

"Wedding rings. Pearls? Seriously? It doesn't have to be this way Dar...Ev...Mr. Carson. It doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"But it is a bad thing. It's the worst thing you could do to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am."

"What are you sorry for?"

"I sorry my parents moved here when I was eleven."

She sniffed.

"Shall I put the jewelry on the table?

"No, I told you I don't want to look at you. I want you to leave."

"I won't go. I've changed my mind."

"It won't matter if you change your mind. You're tenacious. Once something is in your mind, it has to happen. You already made up your mind when you decided to ask me...as if that was asking me, hiding it in all those choices about your dress. By the way I hope he likes the dress. You know, we bought that dress for the formal dinner celebrating my promotion."

"I haven't done anything really bad yet. You were wrong. I've never taken any clothes off. The most we did was..."

"Yes?"

"...we kissed."

"Well thank you for that image."

"Ev...We can fix this. We can go back."

"No we can't! If I say no and you don't go, you'll sneak out sometime and fuck him behind my back. And if I say yes but you don't go tonight, you'll still fuck behind my back, and believe I gave permission. If I say yes and you do go, you'll come home to my bleeding corpse, because I'd kill myself before accepting that. And if I say no and you go, I'd...I don't know what I'll do. Maybe that way you'd also came home to my corpse, because I'd have to kill myself to avoid killing you. The only way to do this, and for us both to survive, is for us to call it quits. Now. Right now, before you go."

She had collapsed into a chair in the living room. I could see her from the corner of my eye. I could see her shoulders shaking as she cried. I had enough. I turned my head before I stood, set the paper down on the kitchen counter, filled my go cup with coffee. I stopped at the door without looking back.

"I really hope he likes the dress. He's gonna love the heels."

@@@@@

I went to work. I went to lunch. I went back to work. Then I went to Aruba. I figured "Shit! If she can just make a random decision, I'm going to do some things I always wanted to do. I kept my passport in my briefcase, and left work directly for the airport. Funny thing, I actually had an easier drive to the airport because it was on the reverse commute during the evening rush. Things were looking up already.

I got to the island, and went directly to the resort my travel agent had arranged for me on the quick. Dinner for one wasn't my usual favorite Friday night, and with my wife cavorting with Sheldon Bock back home, it was difficult to keep calm any longer. Bourbon helped. But I'm not a big drinker, and didn't think it prudent to start now, so after reaching my limit of one, I put Rei out of mind and settled in on a scrumptious feast of fresh Caribbean delicacies. I slipped into a swimsuit for an evening dip in the pool, and was pleased to hear a marvelous jazz quartet playing at the tiki bar. I slept soundly, but was up early for a tee time on a delightful course with views of the amazing blue ocean. I shot better than usual, and was feeling pretty good when I returned to my room, and changed to go back to the pool.

I met a group of ladies that were about my age, and all of them single. Two were widowed, a third was divorced, and the fourth had never married, having spent her life with a series of "life partners" with whom she raised three kids, all with different fathers. We talked. We swam. They took a keen interest in my situation. Then we smoked pot.

Imagine my surprise when they made me go down to the beach with them, where they produced a pipe and a zip lock of something local. I had never smoked. Remember, I grew up with Rei as my entire social life, and we never even considered drugs or drinking. But that night, I got stoned. I know we went swimming, and when we went in the water we left our suits on the beach. I know I was groped. I know I buried my face in a great big old pair of soft boobs. I know we smoked a lot more, and then some brownies came out of a beach bag, and that sometime we went up to a hotel room. I know I wasn't alone when I went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning to a blow job. I didn't finish. I was very hard when she started, but went limp even as I pulled out of her mouth and slipped out of bed.

"I can't do this...I...I..."

"I know" she said with a twinkle in her eye. "We had you tagged as a faithful husband before we even hit that beach. We tried to get you interested in one of us at dinner. We then put the pressure on and got you naked and stoned, and partying on the beach by the light of the moon. Charlene even grabbed your head and pushed your face into her cleavage, but you didn't take any bait. We brought you back to your room, and put you in bed. All four of us tried, but you kept mumbling about your wife in your sleep. I sent them off, and said I planned to try to get you at morning wood time. No dice. So Mr. Evan Carson, I now pronounce you faithful to a fault and hopelessly in love with your wife."

She had slipped on her suit and cover up during her explanation. Before she left, she slipped her business card into my hand, and kissed my forehead.

"In case I can ever help you darlin', whether for business or pleasure, let me know."

She sauntered out, swaying her hips, and threw a quick look over her shoulder to see if I was watching. I was. She smiled, and gently closed the door.

maninconn
maninconn
2,089 Followers
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