phwoar
Hubby and I have been married over 19 years. Apparently, at our wedding, one of our friends told him to promise her that, when our marriage went south, she would be next.
He just told me today. AFTER 19 YEARS. What do?
Oh, wow. He'd been dangling THAT over your head like a shitty husbandly Sword of Damocles, for nineteen friggin' years and only just now decided on telling you?
Good god, girl. Sounds like he's savouring two things: not merely his prior nineteen years of glorious oblivious tension, but also the gleeful anticipation of one day exploding that mine right into your face.
I can only wonder two things:
- Why sit on this for 19 friggin' years? Why divulge this NOW?
- What other marital mindfuck mines might remain unexploded? If your husband is the sort of bloke who's decided every day of the last 19 years on remaining schtum about a secret so volatile and dreadful, then it's likely he's similarly vigilant about other horrendous secrets. He's not the Zodiac Killer, is he?
Re (1): let's not abandon good-faith attitudes just yet. Is it possible your hubby simply never realised how awful this sounds? Maybe he was hammered and/or hungover and misquoted her. Hell, is it even possible his alleged femme-chum wasn't undermining your marriage and being a scheming bitch at all?
Maybe she's an Antarctic research scientist drumming up extra side-quest research grant moola. Ever wondered why the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station hosts so many millions of weddings? And ever wondered why 97% of those weddings subsequently explode within months? It's because you literally physically cannot journey further south than Earth's South Pole. It's physically impossible for any wedding conducted there to "go south," as your alleged hubby's alleged femme-chum phrases it, so it makes for a brilliant marketing angle as a wedding venue for a Certain Type of couple.
Unfortunately that Type is one in which they're deeply unsure and insecure about their love and commitment for each other and their marriage, so they hope to counterbalance and overwhelm this by splashing out with a hideously expensive wedding ceremony. You know the type. We're talking horse-drawn carriages and harp music and rose petals by the truckload. Proper fairy-tale shit. So many enterprising Antarctic research scientists keep telling me of their patron saint Captain Scott, and that the real reason he was so hellbent on his 1912 Antarctica expedition using horses and not dogs was that he too was a horrendous sucker for seriously mushy romantic wedding ceremonies, and even incredibly well-groomed huskies just weren't raunchy enough for his tastes, more's the pity.
Did your hubby's femme-chum arrive at your own wedding accompanied by a dozen Yakutian horses? Yeah? Busted! It's entirely possible she was simply suggesting that should you and he ever wish to renew your wedding vows, then she could totally wangle a mates-rates package for you and him and a gazillion heart-throb ponies at Amundsen-Scott Base. Don't worry, the ponies don't demand THAT much alimony, not these days. So don't go around publicly calling her a scheming bitch just yet, you dingbat. Yet.