So husband isn't impressed with me at all.
It all started (and ended) innocently enough: I went to the Curzon Soho to see The Double with a good friend. We ate cake, drank coffee, mused on the talented actors in the bizarre and bleak film and then retired to Dean St. Townhouse for some red wine. It was a school night, and I know I know, school hols have started BUT still, Sundays aren't the day for a big night really. So, I headed home on the 11:34 train.
At the station I jumped in a cab and then this guy - smartly dressed, Michael Stipe-esque, asked if I was going near his street. As it would happen, that street is just around the corner from my house so I told him to jump on in. We chatted on the short journey home - he'd been at a gig, (Rufus Wainwright and therefore I assumed he was gay - as coupled with his jaunty cap and glasses, my gaydar was on alert) I warbled on about the movie I'd seen and he invited me into his house for a drink.
So, I went.
He was friendly, he knew I was married, he wasn't hitting on me or anything. It seemed like a fun thing to do. I rarely get to behave in a spontaneous fashion - I love meeting new people, why not? Now, I know, I know. It could have been an axe murderer. But here, in my little Hertfordshire town? In a house around the corner from me - literally is 3 houses behind mine?
So we chatted, he showed me around his new house - he moved in 3 weeks ago - I envied his shed and amazing claw bath - and we drank Grappa and listened to music. It was really pleasant and fun. I left when I realised it was nearly 2am.
My head is feeling far from clever today and it is amazing I can actually type... Anyway, I rang Husband and he asked why I'd got in so late. I explained my fun evening and he was FURIOUS. He hung up on me. Annoyed that I had been so stupid. He called me dumb.
But am I? I mean do we have to be suspicious of everyone we meet? Is there no sense of joy and unexpected meetings anymore? Do we have to be afraid of everything? Of everyone? Is it better to just avoid all unusual or random invitations - just in case it is something more sinister? Or should we listen to our gut?
I always go with my sixth sense about all situations and I have never put myself in any threatening or dangerous situations. Anything that feels odd - I am outta there. I mean, millionaires paid for my best friend and I to stay at the Shangri La hotel in Hong Kong for a week - and we'd just met them in a bar, our first night of travelling. I trusted, I had faith. They were gentlemen who just wanted to look out for us. I've met many people and had faith in them - which, maybe down to luck, or my good intuition - means I have been safe and never been harmed in my life. Thank god, touch wood and all.
But here I am, a woman of 40, a mother of two - accepting a drink from a stranger. Does that make me someone who has a lust for life, for adventure, for people, or a stupid blonde who puts herself in potentially dangerous situations?
It all started (and ended) innocently enough: I went to the Curzon Soho to see The Double with a good friend. We ate cake, drank coffee, mused on the talented actors in the bizarre and bleak film and then retired to Dean St. Townhouse for some red wine. It was a school night, and I know I know, school hols have started BUT still, Sundays aren't the day for a big night really. So, I headed home on the 11:34 train.
At the station I jumped in a cab and then this guy - smartly dressed, Michael Stipe-esque, asked if I was going near his street. As it would happen, that street is just around the corner from my house so I told him to jump on in. We chatted on the short journey home - he'd been at a gig, (Rufus Wainwright and therefore I assumed he was gay - as coupled with his jaunty cap and glasses, my gaydar was on alert) I warbled on about the movie I'd seen and he invited me into his house for a drink.
So, I went.
He was friendly, he knew I was married, he wasn't hitting on me or anything. It seemed like a fun thing to do. I rarely get to behave in a spontaneous fashion - I love meeting new people, why not? Now, I know, I know. It could have been an axe murderer. But here, in my little Hertfordshire town? In a house around the corner from me - literally is 3 houses behind mine?
So we chatted, he showed me around his new house - he moved in 3 weeks ago - I envied his shed and amazing claw bath - and we drank Grappa and listened to music. It was really pleasant and fun. I left when I realised it was nearly 2am.
My head is feeling far from clever today and it is amazing I can actually type... Anyway, I rang Husband and he asked why I'd got in so late. I explained my fun evening and he was FURIOUS. He hung up on me. Annoyed that I had been so stupid. He called me dumb.
But am I? I mean do we have to be suspicious of everyone we meet? Is there no sense of joy and unexpected meetings anymore? Do we have to be afraid of everything? Of everyone? Is it better to just avoid all unusual or random invitations - just in case it is something more sinister? Or should we listen to our gut?
I always go with my sixth sense about all situations and I have never put myself in any threatening or dangerous situations. Anything that feels odd - I am outta there. I mean, millionaires paid for my best friend and I to stay at the Shangri La hotel in Hong Kong for a week - and we'd just met them in a bar, our first night of travelling. I trusted, I had faith. They were gentlemen who just wanted to look out for us. I've met many people and had faith in them - which, maybe down to luck, or my good intuition - means I have been safe and never been harmed in my life. Thank god, touch wood and all.
But here I am, a woman of 40, a mother of two - accepting a drink from a stranger. Does that make me someone who has a lust for life, for adventure, for people, or a stupid blonde who puts herself in potentially dangerous situations?
3 comments:
I watch too many crime shows, but I gasped a little when you went to his house. No judgement though, I'm sure I would have done the same thing after a few glasses of wine. All fine in the end, just tell worried husband that you wont do it again (I mean, what are the chances those circumstances will arise again?)
That was a silly thing to do, though I TOTALLY get why you did it, and completely do see that 99% of us are not axe-wielding rapists, obviously. But once you were in his house, drinking, having already drunk quite a bit, had he done something untoward, your defence would have been... shaky at best ''your honour, I met him that evening and he wanted to show me his claw-foot bath, so I, a nice lady, went along with it''. Um. Okay then. Your husband is right to be worried, and though no harm has come to you and your faith in the generally pleasant nature of humanity has gone unscathed in this respect, it is a gamble, where the odds that you will come a cropper at some stage shorten and shorten. Please, for your own sake, don't do that again. You have too much to lose.
Hmmmm, I too understand that as a 40 something parent it is lovely to do something spontaneous for once but perhaps you should have called Husband from "claw-foot bath man's" house and told him the name and address of the guy you were with, just to be sure? Afterall as we know there are "non clammy hand waving wankers" around and you are part of a team not just a carefree backpacking teenager. Life was simpler then.
Love your blog, never miss a post and actually feel guilty for not commenting more.
N (40 something Husband of three)
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