Monday, January 30, 2012

Our Safe-House

Despite the fact I constantly b*tch about our neighbors and other various neighborhood riff-raff (including but not limited to the joksters who draw penises on cars) I really do love where we live.  We're within walking distance of restaurants, shops, parks, grocery stores and, pre-Alexandra thus most important at the time, bars.  Moving to the city, though a small city it may be, encouraged us to stimulate the economy by spending a lot of money at, you guessed it, bars; improved our health by walking everywhere thus negating the negative side affects of alcohol; it also improved our health because we did not drink and drive which would otherwise increase our odds of DYING (though it should be noted we never did anyway and always had a DD when we lived farther away); and it encouraged us to keep our town safe by offering up our home as a place for friends to crash if need be.  In other words, I'm pretty sure we deserve the Key to the City. 

Happily, quite a few of our friends opted for staying at our, what I like to refer to as, "safe-house."  In most cases I use the term "safe-house" to designate a home where people can stay and be safe from their own selves.  Typically the scenario that played out would be I was already home, pregnant and feeling like I would be judged if my pregnant belly was hanging-out at bars, and I would hear Marcus come in the door with a friend or two in tow.  He would get them all set-up on beds, couches, floors, etc. and life would be good and I could get back to weeping at stupid commercials while dipping into my Haagen-Daas.

There was one instance, however, in which I was forced to use the term "safe-house" to denote the fact that I found myself harboring domestic domesticated terrorists men of the drunk-husband variety.  It was during this night that I felt like a traitor to my female brethren because it was on this night that we allowed two banished husbands to stay at our house.  In one single night, but yet two separate occasions, two of our friends got so mad at their husband's they left them behind to fend for themselves.  In other words the husbands were really, really, really drunk and were thus not responsible for their actions and really there's only so much a sober wife can take.

I remember like it was yesterday (one benefit to being stone-cold sober).  It was a girlfriend's bachelorette party and many of the ladies went off to have some fun while leaving the men behind.  Not ones to be out-done in the fun department the late-twenties-to-early-thirties-married-but-free-that-particular-day-men made themselves comfy at a local watering hole *pause* at noon.  Considering the ladies didn't arrive back to town until 4 or 5 in the evening one can only imagine the amount of damage the guys did to not only their wallets but livers as well.  I won't go into details, and I certainly won't reveal the identities of the "innocents" *snort*, but I will say that picking fights and slamming bottles (though perhaps accidental in that case) is no way to keep a wife happy and both ladies eventually left without saying a word.

Needless to say, as the night wore on it became apparent that the ladies were most definitely not coming back for their bad boys.  Marcus wasn't about to let anyone fend for themselves and offered up our home as a refuge.  I was OK with that as long as the husbands knew they were getting the stink-eye for the rest of the night and through the morning, and they most certainly were not getting any breakfast.  That'll show 'em! 

In the end all is well.  The husbands were taken back and forgiven, as a group we no longer frequented that particular bar out of shame (though not too much shame considering the place smelled like a toilet anyway), and our house kept it's reputation for being a safe-house.  Now that Alex is around the days are gone that we have random overnight guests.  To be honest, it wouldn't bother me much provided they were quiet and didn't wake the baby...though considering Alex wakes when our knees creak by her doorway I suppose that may be out of the question.

Writers Note (31 January 2012):  After reading this post Marcus said it was "just alright."  I, thinking it was a pretty funny post, was aghast.  "What could I have done differently?" I asked.  "Well," Marcus said, "It's just that, I know my mom reads this blog and it comes across as we're all a bunch of drunks."  So, to appease the person I've chosen to spend the rest of my life with, I would like to state that we are not a bunch of drunks though we do enjoy getting together and partaking in adult beverages.  This was pre-children for all of us thus our only responsibility was for ourselves alone and it was a one time event that never occurred again.  Now, with that out of the way I think what Marcus is most afraid of is I'm going to spill some secrets of his own adventures in drunk-land.   All in good time...

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