I should have noticed sooner something strange was going on with my husband when I’d fly to New York to go to work, which is something I do every month because I’m a flight attendant for a major US airline based at La Guardia Airport. Honestly, though, my work schedule is so hectic that I don’t have time to think, or worry, about my husband. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself just fine. And anyway, when I’m in New York it’s not like I’ve got all this time on my hands to worry about what’s going on at home. I’m not hanging out in Manhattan with my friends in a cute cafe somewhere in the village, not anymore, nor am I frequenting Broadway shows or trendy bars the way I used to before I got married. These days it’s all about getting in and out of town as quickly as possible. Believe me when I tell you that when I’m in New York the only thing I have time to do is fly back and forth across the country as many times as possible in six days, wearing a cheap frayed polyester navy blue dress with a pair of flammable navy blue opaque hose and matching scuffed up leather heels. In between trips I’m crashing at a tiny, but cute, one bedroom apartment in Queens, and I’m only in that apartment long enough to get a few hours sleep and maybe a cup of coffee in the morning before heading back to the airport – again! That’s my life. I’m a flight attendant, stewardess, trolley dolly, and let’s not forget the old favorite, waitress in the sky. The days of glamour went buh-bye a long time ago. And anyway, shouldn’t my husband be too busy at home taking care of the kid to get into any real trouble.
It happened when I was on a trip, when I noticed things had drastically changed at home. After a long fifteen hour workday I remember calling my husband from a dumpy airport hotel on a layover so short I wasn’t sure whether to shower, eat, or sleep, because there was no way I could do all three. There’s not enough time. I’d just kicked off my Mary Janes, turned on on the telly and I was lying on the lumpy bed, when I asked my husband about his day. Normally when I ask my husband that question all he’ll say is, “I worked,” and that’s about it. No details. No nothing. Just, “I worked.” As if he’s the only one in the world working. So imagine my surprise when I ask the question and he starts going on and on about all the things he and my son did that day, things I try to get him to do with me all the time, things he normally hates to do! When I’m home, all the begging and pleading in the world won’t get him to leave his two mile radius. But as soom as I’m gone, he’s taking strolls on the beach and checking out the new Cajun place?
Okay, what’s her name? That’s all I wanted to know.
Come to find out I wasn’t off track, because there was, and still is, another blonde in our lives. This blonde just so happens to be tall, tan, and witty, and has no problem sitting on the leather couch for hours on end in our dark living room watching the movies I am no no longer willing to watch with my husband, movies like Scarface, The Godfather, and Sling Blade. Nor does this blonde mind cigar smoke after sharing the combination fried fish platter appetizer at the Cajun place, the place I’ve been dying to go to forever, a place where all the two of them have to do is order “the usual” and the teenage waitress knows exactly what they’re talking about. Okay, now tell me, how the hell am I supposed to compete with that?
Well as it turns out, I don’t have to. My husband, I’m proud to say, has his priorities straight. I know this because I overheard him on the phone a few weeks ago talking to the the blonde, and what I heard was, “Yeah, that’s right, she’s back, so you know what that means. You’re on the back burner until she leaves, Sweet Tits.”
Sweet tits? Umm…I won’t even go there.
But hearing my husband say that, and knowing I was his number one girl, put a smile on my face. I know for a fact my husband looooves Sweet Tits. His face light up when he talks about, I can’t even write it again, but you know who I’m talking about. Which means, if you think about it, he must TOTALLY LOVE me! It’s not like I MAKE the guy hang out with me when I’m home. He can do whatever he wants. I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. But the cool thing is my husband wants to be with me! Look, what I’m trying to say here is sometimes it’s easy to forget how we feel about each other, and take each other for granted, especially when you’ve been with the same person for a couple years, and you’ve got a crazy job, which we both do, a book you’re trying to write, and a thirteen month old taking up most of your time. As for Tommy, I mean Sweet Tits (there, I said it) I’m glad my husband has a friend to hang out with while I’m out of town, because he deserves to be happy, as happy as my job makes me. Oh and by the way, my husband finally took me to that Cajun place, the one he and Tommy frequent so often, the one I’ve been wanting to go to for like FOREVER, and all I can say is, they can keep it!
Yeah, that's me, the one standing in the aisle wearing flammable polyester...