On my hike down memory lane, I stumbled across this gem……….


How many of us wives know this scenario?

Almost closing time at the bar, wife sighs and says,

” Come on, Dear, please let’s go!”

Husband responds,

“Okay. Okay!… Just one for the…hiccup… One for the..”,

Grabs on to you, and utters earnestly,

” jusht one frroad. Nen we’ll go…”

Wifey knows what that means. She wants to go home. She wanted to go home a couple of hours ago. Her mood has morphed from’ ho-hum’ to’ home-time’ to’  I’m gonna fricking KILL YOU if we don’t leave right now!!!”

She goes from irritation to anger, to a  burning, white-hot, fury of frustration and defeat. She knows that’ home-time’ and’ his time’, don’t always match.

The bar closed at a particular time, and then came that wonderful shout of…

” Last call.”

To my ears, those words,

” Last Call”,

rang like a thousand violins playing, and all the Angel song in heaven. Maybe now we could go home.

Ah, as they say,’  there’s many a slip twixt cup and lip.’

That last call wasn’t for one more quick beer before leaving. No o o. That’ last cal’ was the signal to down as many beers as possible before being kicked out.

Time eventually came when we had to leave or face being forcibly ejected from the establishment. We had to, the bar-lady insisted on it. So we stumbled to the door, my supporting his floppy body, as he mumbled some incoherent jumble of junk.

I poured him into the front seat and fixed his safety belt, which he immediately unplugged, and then tried to open the door. We battled for a while until I  had him safely buckled in, and then finally, we’ were on our way.

All the while as I am driving, he is pulling on the handbrake, yelling,

” Stop the car. I want to get out.”

With each yank on the handbrake, my little Datsun would jerk to a stop, almost upending herself as her front wheels ground to an instant halt, and momentum took over.  John found this very entertaining. Remember his primary mandate for life was to see how much he could annoy me. So it was a case of starting the car, foot on the accelerator, move forward, and them Blam. Handbrake on. Tyre screech. Car bucks. I nearly smash my teeth on the steering wheel.

He had most definitely filled his mandate for the night.

Eventually, I’d had enough. At the very next yank, I stopped the car and said,

“Okay, get out.”

If that was what he wanted, well, alright, he could have it.

He clambered out, with a great show of

‘ Now you’re gonna suffer because I’M gonna WALK!.”

Well, okay, let me suffer then, bring on the agony. Who was I to deny him his wishes? I ràmmed the car into first and with a defiant roar took off into the night.

I’m a firm believer in’ Always give your man what he wants,’,’

Agreed ladies?

I got home, had a shower, then settled down with my kids to watch some TV before retiring for the night.

When he finally reached home, he was quite exhausted and sweaty, but tell you what?

He was completely sober.

I remember talking it over with him later and laughing about it. He said that  as he watched my rear lights disappear over the horizon, he kept telling himself,

“Ah, she’ll come back. Yeah, she’ll come back. She won’t leave me here. She’ll be back..”

It was only after he had walked the entire 24 kilometres home, that he realized, No, not this time, I wouldn’t be coming back,,. I  had finally reached the end of my tether.

The lesson he learned that night? Perhaps he had been the biggest jerk of the night, and to leave my little Datsun and me alone.

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