There can be nothing more embarrassing than one of your husband’s friends, and a good family friend, witness your man’s weakness for the bottle. Seki, a usually bubbly mother of two is a social friend I enjoy touching base with from time to time. She’s always struck me as a discontent woman in spite of her happy disposition. In one of our usual chin-wags, she let it slip that her husband was a chronic alcoholic. “Better than a wife-batterer, I tried to console her.
But she quickly reminded me that most violent men were at their worst when they’d too much to drink. She’d confessed that Arthur, her husband, had always loved a tipple in their courting days: “And I was his good companion,” she continued. “We were all young and carefree then. It is just that, as I and all our friends grew older and settled down, Arthur didn’t want to.
“On the two occasions I was pregnant, he’d happily left me alone at home so he could do the round of the clubs. That was when I realised just what alcohol meant to him…” She finally had to face the fact that Arthur was a now a chronic alcoholic when he blew their house-rent on booze. “The landlord kept on pestering us to pay and I was livid,” she said. “I felt sorry for him in the end because he was genuinely contrite. He managed to raise the money but that left pretty little for the festive periods and the get-together we had planned, so we invited a few friends over and asked them to bring whatever items they wanted to contribute to the party. Most of them brought booze and the way Arthur eyed the bottles, he looked like a kid in a candy bar! A few hours later, he was urging everybody to drink and be merry as he started on his first drink.
“The problem was that whilst others sipped theirs, he gulped his. By the time the last but one guest left, he was crashed out unconscious on the sofa. Amechi, the only guest left and a childhood friend of his looked embarrassed as he watched Arthur lying undignifying on the sofa, snoring. ‘I tried to warn him to slow down but he wouldn’t listen’, he said. ‘How have you put up with him all these years? he asked. I shrugged. It was none of his business and I wasn’t ready to discuss my matrimonial problems with any of Arthur’s friends.
“But Amechi hung around to help me clear up. As I started stashing mugs and plates in the sink, he came and stood behind me. He was so close I couldn’t even turn round ‘if I were married to a lovely girl like you, I wouldn’t swap her for a bottle of beer, not to talk of falling asleep on you’. I couldn’t say a word as I felt his breath on my neck, then we were in each others’ arms, kissing. Guiltily, I realised where I was and what I was doing—I was kissing my husband’s childhood friend with him just a room away. But we’d both reached a point of no return. Sensing the urgency of the moment, he lifted me up onto the kitchen table and hitched my knickers to a side. My legs were round his waist, crossing them at the ankles, as we made fast and furious love. It was a long time Arthur and I had had any intimacy and the frustration showed.
“I kept my eyes open because I was facing the door, terrified Arthur would come in any minute. Only he didn’t —we virtually got away with murder! When we got back to the living room, Arthur was still snoring, oblivious of what just happened! We should do that again soon’, Amechi smirked. But that wasn’t the answer. As incredible as our romp had been — dangerous, erotic—he was no substitute to my husband’s love. We’ve had a few romps more since then but I’ve told him it had to stop. Somehow. I have to find a way of whining my husband off the bottle…”
Easier said than done, but I wished her luck. I’ve often said it that proximity is often a death knell to fidelity. The closer your partner’s friend is to the family, the easier for them to spot your vulnerability and zero in.
Comments