There’s a list of advantages to only spending weekends with the spouse. Surprise visits is not one of them.
We have a running “joke”. She occassionally texts me.
“Let me know when you are coming home, so I can tell my boyfriend to leave.”
Ha, Ha, Ha… She thinks it’s fucking hilarious. Like the death threats, it always makes me just a little nervous.
I used to tell my 9th graders, it’s only funny when you are laughing with somebody — not at them. That bullshit text is swimming across the border from with to at…
I came back to Gilbert on a Friday morning for a doctor’s appointment. I forgot about it and didn’t tell The Bear.
Left Tucson at 5 a.m. — roll up to the house at 7 a.m.. I almost drove past. There’s a strange new Subaru parked next to the driveway.
It’s not a Savage car. No one in my family has a blue Subaru. It’s got Oregon plates.
- WTF… the texts are not a joke?
- I’d feel a lot fucking better if it was a Miata… but a god damn Subaru?
- Is the boyfriend the funny part?
- She did play college volleyball — have we been living a lie since 1984?
- Were the Savages right about her “female friends” all along?
- Am I the oldest and dumbest beard on the planet?
I may not want to see what the hell is going on in there. Fuck that. I don’t care if everyone in the family calls it “her” house. It’s my fucking house too.
If there is a “friend”, am I going to start kicking asses or just walk out and cry? The Boy left a bunch of metal pipes in the garage (I don’t know what the fuck they are for). I was thinking about grabbing a pipe…
I leave it behind.
I walk in the door. House looks like it always looks. Sounds like it always sounds. The Bear comes down the hall half-dressed and surprised to see me — but not too surprised — just a mild “ohh you’re home early” kind of reaction.
I don’t sense anyone else in the house — it’s just us. After what feels like a long enough pause, I ask, “Who’s fucking Subaru is that?”
“Ohh,” she said. ‘That’s one of the Boy’s friend’s. They were flying out for that bachelor party, and he needed a place to park.”
Punctuation is important here people — an apostrophe and a space make this shit a whole lot easier to swallow. One of the boy’s friends is completely different than the boyfriend…
Then I switch targets for my old, white-man anger.
God damn douchebag millennials don’t know that dudes shouldn’t drive Subaru’s — it confuses us old folks. If it had been a Mustang or a pickup truck, it would have been far less shocking.
And those cheap lazy bastards still lean on us for free shit — parking would have been $12 at the airport…
My fucking blood pressure is worth the $12. I would have paid the fucking parking fee to avoid this little surprise.
Note to self — always text the Bear when you are coming home. If there is some funky shit going down in the city — I’m taking the Matrix blue pill (so to speak). Better to be in blissful ignorance than to learn we have been living a lie for 35 years.
PS — can you guess the Springsteen “inspired” line/song for the headline?
If you can, you have wasted a significant portion of your youth. I’m looking at you Condo…