I had no idea what I was doing there.
It seemed to be mandatory, though. We were a moderately attractive couple, Eva and Eric. We were young at 25 years, we didn't have kids, we were not rich by any means, but we had enough to get by. All of this seemed to result in one thing: we had to go out on Fridays and Saturdays, see people, be seen by people, impress people we didn't know and would never meet again. It was an unwritten rule, obviously. Not my rule, mind you. I had already chosen my partner for life and didn't need the excitement of the hunt, anymore. Said partner, namely my wife, Eva, had stated time and again that we were too young to be couch potatoes, that she wanted to have fun, to experience everything life had to offer. So, she dragged ol' reluctant me along every damn weekend.
I couldn't dance for shit. If it had been a tiny bit brighter in the damn club, everyone would have seen how run down and shabby the whole place was. If it had been a lot quieter, you would actually have been able to have rudimentary conversations without shouting out your lungs. If it had been a bit less packed in there, you wouldn't have been jostled by sweaty, smelly and drunken bodies all the time. If the prices had been a bit lower, you wouldn't have to sell a kidney to pay for a couple of drinks.
Unfortunately, it wasn't brighter, quieter, emptier or cheaper. This was the 08/15, the club you just HAD to be seen in these days. As a result, the queue at the entrance was as long as the scrutiny by the arrogant assholes at the door was humiliating. Of course, like always when the demand is high, things were shitty for the poor unlucky customer. If this was what life had to offer, I was not impressed.
None of that stopped my wife Eva from dragging me in there again and again. Why, oh why? I had no idea. None of her explanations made the remotest sense. Because everyone important was here, she said. I couldn't see anyone important, never could. Maybe the light was too dim, but all I could ever see was people like us, pretending to have a good time and honing their acting skills. Because we were having sooo much fun. I certainly wasn't.
I'm whining? It got worse. All of this was still annoying, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make to please the woman I loved. The really hard part was NOT to get jealous. Jealousy was the one thing that drove my Eva totally mad. Was I a jealous guy? No. Never have been. Well, except when Eva was flirting like crazy, which happened only when we were out clubbing. When we were, it happened almost continuously.
Did I complain? I tried. Boy, did I try. It changed exactly nothing. She got angry, I sulked, she counter-sulked, the evening was ruined, and the temperature at home dropped to about one Kelvin, until we exploded into our hot makeup sex, usually Sunday evening. Did these confrontations change a damn thing? No. I had to trust her, I didn't own her and so on and so forth. Even after our makeup sex she was never open to any of my arguments. I knew that if I kept bringing the issue up, the only result would be a spoiled mood for both of us. I just couldn't help it. I did it anyway.
Eva and I lived an easy and mostly carefree life. I couldn't say that our love was burning hot, but we had lots of fun together. She was bouncy and bubbly, always willing to try new things, to experience all life had to offer. I was a bit slower, a bit more cautious, a bit shyer. She used to drag me along and improved my life by doing so. It always felt like she was dragging me upwards. Well, mostly, except for that damned club. Whenever her flirty and bubbly way didn't hurt me, at least.
I was sure she'd never really physically cheat, but having to watch her heavy-duty flirting was so damn disrespectful and humiliating. She didn't seem to mind one bit, and did it right in front of me, every single time we went out.
Did I retaliate by flirting with other women? No, that just wasn't my style, and it would only have justified her behavior. I'm a one-woman man and I don't need the attention of others.
Take that extremely beautiful woman last week, for example. She was way out of my league. Not just out of my league, she was playing a completely different ballgame. It's not that I'm ugly. About 95 percent of the female population doesn't even see me, the remaining five percent seems to find me irresistible. That's totally okay, I don't need to be the attention of more than one woman, anyway. Eva, on the other hand, seemed to attract almost every man, but on a rather moderate level. It wasn't the "Holy shit, she is hotter than hell" level, but the "Yeah, I'd do her, why not?" level.
Why then, was this knockout blonde hitting on me? As usual, Eva was dancing with some guy and seemed on a mission to simulate sex as realistically as possible while dressed. Well, if you could call wearing a skimpy top, a very short skirt and high heels without any underwear being dressed. I was watching them helplessly, unsuccessfully trying not to slip into my usual dark mood, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and looked into the most beautiful face I had ever seen in real life. Long blonde hair, high cheek bones, in short, classically beautiful. Even though it was unlikely that I'd forget someone who looked like her, I had the unsettling feeling that I'd seen her before.
"Hi," she screamed at the top of her lungs, which was completely inappropriate. The universe was supposed to be quiet when this goddess in human form wanted to express herself. She still wasn't loud enough, but I could guess what she was saying. If I was right, she was trying to hit on me. I was confused. This princess was way too hot to hit on a lowly peon like me. Hell, she was way too hot to hit on anyone. The confused and disappointed group of guys who had followed her to the bar would certainly have agreed if someone had bothered to ask them.
Why would she do something like that? Even if she was going to act so far out of character as to hit on some guy, why me? There were a lot of way hotter guys than me present. Most members of her adoring male puppy group were hotter, actually. She could have her pick of them by crooking her little finger.
This, or she, was just what my battered ego needed. Wait. No. I am a man of honor. I think I am, anyway. It was important to keep that in mind, not to let the total hotness of this woman distract me, not to get lost in those big fantastic green eyes, not to be fascinated by those lips, teeth... No, stop, I had to shake off the hormonal fog that was wafting thickly through my brain. I was married, mostly even happily married. This was dangerous territory. I didn't want Eva to even see me with her. It would just give her an excuse to escalate her flirting, if such a thing was possible.
I did the hard, but right thing. I smiled apologetically and showed her my ring.
Did I mentally kick myself for being such a noble fool? Of course I did. This was a once in a lifetime chance. No, this was a never in a lifetime chance. Few guys would ever meet a woman like this, let alone be hit on by one.
She smiled sweetly, though a bit sadly, nodded, kissed me lightly on the cheek and turned around. I sighed as I watched her go. I couldn't help feeling I had made a big mistake, make that a terrible, enormous mistake. This feeling lasted for a few moments until it was replaced by an epiphany. I suddenly knew what this was about. There was no doubt, it all fit together just too perfectly. It was by far the most likely explanation, and according to Ockham, it was the only one.
Frank. Frank was the answer to many questions.
My damn asshole father in law. He cheated all the time and didn't even try to be discreet about it. He never realized how much he hurt his wife and daughter over all those years. They both loved him and avoided any confrontation about it. The resulting fake interactions in their family almost drove me mad. He acted like some wise patriarch, lecturing about the horrible lack of morals in the world after just having come home from some whore or bar fly. Eva had told me about his ways after extracting a firm promise from me never ever to talk about it in their presence. I had kept that promise, although it had nearly killed me.
Maybe because he was a cheating asshole himself, he seemed to assume that all men were bad. They weren't too bad to be his buddies, mind you, but too bad for his precious only child.
