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You figure you get all you’re partying out of your system by the time you are legally able to party. Sometimes this happens a little later in life, and for some, this may never happen at all. I still know guys who go out and get hammered every other night, and it works for them. Anyway, shortly after I turned twenty-one, I used to go to this happening club downtown. Every Friday and Saturday, I would find myself trying to pick up women, buy drinks for whoever was a taker, and ended up dancing like a fool, sometimes with a partner, sometimes by myself. I have met several ladies over the year or two of going, but one woman I met there led to one of the stupidest moments of my life.
She was hot, loved to grind, and was there nearly every weekend I was. I started talking to her shortly after I saw her, and was stunned that she took a liking to me. Over the course of a few months, I wanted her more than anything. We had a few run-ins in the hallway, ducking outside in the alleyway, but we never went at it as bad as the night we hooked up in her car. We were stuck on each other, but there was only one problem. Her husband, who was a complete ass to her, probably would not have approved of our actions. I didn’t find out she was married until it was too late. She never wore her ring, and I never recall asking. By the time she spilled the beans, we were both too into a relationship to back out. I just wished she had picked a better way of telling me.
It was a typical Saturday night, and I saw her from across the room as I walked up the stairs into the entranceway. She gave me a funny look, grabbed my arm and pulled me halfway down the hallway. I sensed something was wrong, but was still a little unsure of her mannerisms. She pulled me down close and whispered in my ear that her husband was here that night, and that we needed to be careful. I didn’t catch it at first, but then felt like I was smashed in the gut by an anvil. Husband??! It would have been nice to tell me a little earlier, I thought, but never said it out loud. She then told me to stay, and that she would sneak around to try and talk to me whenever possible. After all, her hubby wasn’t into her, he was just starting to get a whiff of something going on over the past few weeks and thought he would join his wife for a night out. Reluctantly, I stayed and watched as my new found girlfriend pretended to be into her husband as they were together on the dance floor.
There is nothing worse than watching the woman you love with some dude, even if it was her husband. I felt betrayed, I was pissed off beyond belief, and I dealt with it by pounding shot after shot. I was reckless, adding fuel to the fire with every drink, and also causing more potential danger than I had realized. I sat in the hallway the entire night, and she did as promised, sneaking out every once in a while to see me. She knew I was a little ticked at her and she tried to calm me down with reassurances, and that’s when her darling husband turned the corner and saw us talking. I will give her credit, she held herself well, explaining that I was a good “friend” of hers. Luckily, I was sitting next to another guy who is always there, and played it somewhat cool. I introduced myself as a generic “Rick”, played nice for a bit before catching myself getting really sarcastic. They left the hallway, and I had had enough. I stormed out of the club after slamming my last shot, hopped in the car, and sped off.
Miraculously, I made it home safe, and passed out shortly after. In the meantime, she and the hubby had words about my rudeness, said he could tell I was more than a good friend, and he walked out leaving her stranded. She had called my cell phone over and over, and I finally awoke from my stupor to answer it. She begged me to forgive her for not telling me she was married, and that she would really appreciate a ride home. I told her I would be there in a few minutes, hung up the phone, and then am not sure what happened next. Somehow, I woke up in the morning, at the wheel of my car. I was parked, not crashed, but oddly enough I was in an empty parking lot down the road from my house. How the hell did I get there, I wonder? I could not remember a thing. I drove home, and took my phone from my pocket, realizing there was a few voicemails.
There were three from her. The first two were wondering where I was, and a third stating she got a ride home from someone else. Then it all came back to me. The entire night replayed in my head in a matter of five seconds. I felt bad that I left her stranded, but I was still angry at her deceptions. Since I did not have a number to call her (now I know why), I assumed she was not dead somewhere. This was confirmed a few hours later, when she called to apologize. We decided it was probably best to end things for a while, until she was set on what was going on in her life. We eventually met back up again about a year later, when things were calmer and she was divorced. I still don’t think I have done anything dumber than the night I got in that car being so hammered. I am glad I only made it to the end of the street, and not t-boning some car full of kids or a mom coming home from work. That was the last time I drove drunk again.
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