(As told to me by my friend Jack)
I just got done removing a stump from the back yard and I’m sitting down to a beer and the game when the doorbell rings.
My wife is out shopping and the kids are off with friends. I’m enjoying a little quiet time, just me and the TV.
I answer the door, and there is a guy about my age standing there. He looks like he just came out of GQ Magazine with a jacket, perfect jeans, wearing shoes that costs as much as my house payment. His features are like an Italian Model or a Movie star, that sort of pretty but manly look that women go nuts over. His hair is perfect, thick and silver. He’s wearing a Rolex Submariner. Nice.
He gave me a pretty serious look then said, “I’m sleeping with your wife.”
All right, I wasn’t expecting that one. He then looked me up and down like he was waiting for me to beat the shit out of him. I’m a big guy. Not big and fat, but 6″4′ with fifty inch shoulders and a lot of gym time. I used to play football. This guy wasn’t small but I had a good five inches on him and maybe sixty pounds. He looked like a runner or one of those freaking guys who rides a bike in neon colored spandex shorts.
Honestly I should have beat the shit out of him, but that isn’t my style. I just went numb. Heather and I had been together for 20 years, married 17 of those years. We have two kids and a house and friends and … we were one of those perfect couples. You know, we laugh a lot and say the same thing at the same time. That sort of perfect. We hold hands and … I thought things were fine.
Sure she’d put on some weight and had a hard time dealing with her body image. Sure she was over worked with her job and the kids and with me. Sure she was stressed, but who isn’t? But… this handsome, obviously wealthy guy was standing here telling me that MY WIFE was sleeping with him.
He started talking about passion… her passion. Sure we had passion. That morning I’d almost been late for work because of her passion, our passion. But he got into details of fetish stuff he’d do with her and how he made her scream the way I never could. I had no idea she ever wanted any of that stuff. I sure didn’t want it.
Then, as I stood stunned, he talked about her beauty and how smart she was and how I could never ever appreciate her. He said the kids didn’t need her as much anymore, he said she loved him.
I could feel my body start to shake. My world was imploding around me. My throat was tight. I thought I was going to vomit on his expensive shoes. Finally I said something. “Does she know you’re here?”
Mr. GQ glared at me and said, “I’m taking her away to live the life she deserves.”
“Do you love Heather?” I asked. I had to know. I knew the answer but I wanted him to tell me.
His eyes opened as big as dinner plates. “Heather?”
“My wife,” I said.
“Your wife isn’t Allison?”
“Heather.” I grabbed the wedding photo off of the hutch in the front entryway and put it in his face. “Allison lives next door.”
“Uh, sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t go next door. He just got in his car and drove away. About 20 minutes later the front door opened and I heard a familiar voice, “Honey, I’m home. Did I miss anything?”
“No, just got the stump out and I’m watching the game. Hey, Heather, did I tell you that I think you’re beautiful?”
“Sure. Thanks for getting that stump out. Will you help me with the groceries?”
I follow her outside and she gives me a little smile, the kind she always does when she has something smart to say. “You know, you’re the only man I ever loved.”
I grab a couple of bags. “Good to know. Love you too.”
Juliette aka Vampire Maman