Who Knew??

Four girls, a bottle of wine and Mr. Big. That was the game plan for Tuesday night. I knew I would need moral support if Carrie was rejected by him yet again. I was hoping against common sense that they would somehow end happily ever after, I needed them to. After the movie, we decided to go somewhere where we could do what comes naturally after such an event....vent. Four dwindled to three and we sat and talked, no topic untouched. If there had been a soundtrack to that part of the evening it would have been Pussycat Dolls "I Don't Need A Man". But as usual, the conversation turned to us. Three moms, three friends, brought together by the men we did (evidently) need. We all had more in common with Carrie than we had thought. We all had a Big in our lives, yet in the real world, tigers don't change their stripes and men that can't commit, well, they can't commit, at least not to us. So we had all picked another cat that could and while totally satisfied with our choices, we all like to talk about our illustrious pasts. Even though they didn't end the way we thought they might back in the day. And the movie industry feels obligated to tie it all up with a big pink bow in the end, because, we need them to. We needed Carrie and Big to be together in the end. It just looks prettier. The soundtrack to this part of the evening...Pink's "Who Knew".

So as the Husband headed off today for his equivalent of my Tuesday night, I was a little...hmmm, how can I put this delicately??? Pissed. That's right, I said pissed and you want to know why? Well for one, I'm pretty sure that the guys don't sit around and analyze their relationships. In fact, I don't think they discuss their families at all. I know because I've asked. "So, how's so and so's new baby?" "I don't know, we didn't discuss that." Another, I bet they don't spell out their more colorful vocabulary as we do -totally out of effing habit. And thirdly, while it is totally permissible for them to drink hard alcohol diluted only with water and brandish firearms without fear of stigma, we are totally living on the edge as we order another glass of wine to wash down the garden burger we just ate on a single bun. If there is a soundtrack to their night of stink, I bet it's "Just Good Ole Boys" from the Dukes of Hazard.

So, just to make myself feel a bit better, before he left for his overnight boy party of what can only be imagined as farts and lies, I composed a little note and stuffed it into a pair of his boots.

Dear Daddy,
Have fun killing the innocent little birdies tonight. You are our hero. We look up to YOU Daddy. Does this mean Mommy can finally take us to the circus this year?
xoxo
Jacqueline and Salem

Now, not so pissed.