Monday, November 20, 2006
I Know What You Did Last Evening
Being married to a wife that doesn’t drink alcohol is quite practical, because it allows you to slosh down – let’s say – a bottle of white wine, a bottle of excellent 1992 Bourgogne (name escapes behind veils of mist) and some small change in pints. No worries about how you’re going to get home…
However, it is very annoying that you can’t escape the details about how you’ve made a fool of yourself the evening before. Normally when everybody drinks at the same rate, such information is safely washed away by the alcohol. Although you may suffer from sudden flashbacks the next morning, when you’re recovering from you hangover in you warm but moist and smelly bed. This happens to me mainly when there was a dance-floor in the vicinity and the DJ played decent music for a change. The next morning I may experience some sudden and heavy flashbacks of my on the floor with my legs spread apart in a Michael -Jackson-meets-Prince imitation. So very wrong. So very painful. I usually cover my head with my pillow in shame, it helps a lot. But on the whole, these flashbacks are rare, although they may linger for several days and give me the occasional jolt of shame and disgust.
But when your wife’s still sober and fresh by the end of the evening, she will leave no detail of your scandalous behaviour, ridiculously wild claims, very politically incorrect but loudly proclaimed opinions and other socially unacceptable faux-pas uncovered. She takes revenge for listening for endless hours to your blabbering, by providing you with a detailed account of what you said and how everyone else looked at you in stunned disbelief / utter disgust / immense boredom. Oh the shame! It will take weeks before you recover and dare to phone your friends again. It will be months before you take the risk of setting a mere glass of kiddy-champagne or root beer to your lips in their presence. And that’s what it is all about: preventing that such evenings repeat themselves too often.