A friend of mine tried to sabotage my marriage. Can you believe that?
I recall some flirting by a waiter about fifteen years ago and a college boyfriend declared his undying love for her shortly after our engagement, but I don’t think such an overt attempt to break us up has ever happened – at least not to my knowledge.
I typically don’t use my blog to hurl darts or call people out, but I feel like I need to shoot this so-called “friend” down so that he doesn’t attempt subterfuge that may cause harm to another happy couple.
In order to root out the culprit, let me establish a timeline of events on the night of December 30th, 2016:
6 pm – My lovely wife and I split up (temporarily – for the evening only!!) – she went to meet her college friends and I went to this “friend’s” fireworks display.
9 pm – After the fireworks, said “friend” invites me into his home where he subtly offers a bowl of some type of toxic bean soup.
10 pm – I say my thanks and goodbyes, not knowing the treachery that lies ahead.
10:45 pm – Something gently stirs within me on the ride home and it is definitely NOT the warm glow of friendship.
11:30 pm – My unsuspecting wife and I – still on good terms at this point – say goodnight and I retire, leaving her in the den with a daughter.
3:30 am – I am roused by an earthquake. I didn’t know we could have such a force majeure in Georgia. I hold onto the bed and wait for another tremor, wondering if I should wake the family to seek shelter.
3:34 am – A conspicuous fog wafting through our room instantly changes my Act of God theory to an Act of Me. Although it is a cold night, I reach for the remote to our ceiling fan in a desperate attempt to disperse the mist in our midst.
3:45 am – Amazed that my lovely wife’s slumber has not been disturbed, I slowly drift back to sleep.
4:22 am – I am shocked awake again by a violent rumbling that demands attention. I will spare the details except to say that no one was hurt when the porcelain exploded and by some miracle, my wife slept through the thunderous aftershocks.
4:59 am – Someone threw a concussion grenade into our bedroom. The facts and explanation remain unknown.
5:27 am – The dogs begin whining and begging to go outside. I assume their motivation is twofold:
- a) to escape the odor
- b) to escape the blame they typically incur for such smells.
6:05 am – Now awake for good, I find the room not safe for human habitation. It seems the cats are wearing radiation indicator dots and have constructed a very sophisticated air curtain system in our doorway. I take refuge with them in the den and hope that my lovely wife and our marriage lived through the night.
9:13 am – She groggily stumbles out of our room. The cats greet her enthusiastically when they realize she has miraculously survived.
10:45 am – The cats and I don hazmat suits and carefully sweep the bedroom with dosimeters I didn’t know we owned. Everything seems clear.
So, Snidely Whiplash, you have failed in your underhanded attempt to break up our marriage. Your bean-filled poison, although potent, seems to also possess a strong anesthetic effect on its victims. And plus, after nearly twenty-five years, she is a hardened veteran of this type of assault.