FourBux

Bachelorism - Day One

Just like in any relationship, our marriage has had its ups and downs. Some of the ups have been especially great, and some of the downs have been really down there. While we’re in a good place now, and have been for a while, there have been times when phrases like “Why am I still here? Your life wouldn’t be any different if I were gone” have been uttered, from both sides.

I’m not proud of that, but it’s true.

Well, as some of you know, my wife flew to London Sunday morning, with three of her friends. They like think of themselves as a Phoenix version of the “Sex in the City” women, except that none of them want to be the slutty one. So I guess that means there are two of another one, but anyway, that’s beside the point.

The point is that I’m on my own for a week. I thought it would be fun to chronicle the adventures of the pseudo-bachelor, someone who hasn’t been truly left to their own devices in so long that it may prove difficult to snap back from the inherent dependency into which marriage plops a person.

Now is when I really see if my life would be different without her. And then on Monday I’ll pick her up at the airport and she’ll have photos and souvenirs and jet lag, but I’ll have the knowledge that yes, my life is entwined with hers, for better or for worse.

Since Sunday was the day she flew out, I’ll start there.

Day One:

The wife’s flight left at 6:45AM, which means that they had to be at the airport by 5:00AM. Since we’re the only couple in her clique that doesn’t have children, that gave me the honor of driving around to pick them up and delivering them with luggage to Sky Harbor.

Not to beat a dead horse, but I’m not a morning person. While the women are excited and speed talking about the trip, it’s all I can do to keep the car on the freeway. Once I leave them at the curbside check-in, I head home and straight back to bed, where I sleep soundly until the text message at 7:00: “Flight delayed. We’ll be leaving in 10 mins.” I think I replied via text, but I have no idea what I sent. I hope it was in English, and especially that it didn’t contain the phrase “woke me up.”

Back to sleep for a few minutes until I’m woken up by a call from my mother, asking how I’m doing on my own.

“It’s been three hours and as far as I know they’re still in town. Call Friday and see if I’m still alive.” I didn’t used to think so, but I must give the impression that I’m completely codependent.

Fast-forward to Sunday afternoon at the grocery store. Now that the healthy vegetarian is out of the house for a while, it’s time to stock up on food that hasn’t been around our home for some time. Food that at one point had a face. Steak, seafood, some more beef, chicken, and then the token beer and a frozen pepperoni pizza.

Hey, for the next eight days, I’m a bachelor. Get off my case.

While in the store, I run into an acquaintance from church, who immediately gives me crap about not being there on Sunday morning. After I explain that I was up at 4 to play chauffeur, and then went back to bed, he then says “So the wife is gone for a week? Is that why you’re not wearing your ring?”

Since he’ll believe what he wants anyway, I give him the bogus-sounding truth: that on Saturday I got shot in the hand with a paint ball, causing it to swell up to the point that my ring (and incidentally, my watch) couldn’t be worn. I just didn’t remember to put them back on when I came to the store.

“Looks okay to me. Don’t make me have to keep an eye on you.” I know he was only half joking, and since the truth already sounded fictitious and wasn’t any of his business, I let him go. I’m sure that will result in more phone calls from people checking in on me, or maybe people popping in to see if I’m holding up my end of the vows.

Just because I can, here’s what my hand looks like today, over 24 hours later than when I had the conversation in the store. This looks okay to you?!? Come over to my house and let me shoot you in the back of your hand and see how you feel about your ring. Idiot.

God help me if something ever really happens to my wife - I won’t be able to get away from these people.

Finished off the evening by staying up way too late, online and watching Law and Order, drinking beer and eating jalapeño poppers. The only mishap of the day was that I left the oven on when I went to bed, but figured it out when I went to the kitchen to set up the coffee pot for Monday morning. And yet, I survived.

Don’t tell our friends.

Cheers.