Double Dating is Shit

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Double Dating is Shit

I need to have a rant, ladies and gentlemen. Like a real rant, not an irrational one this time, but a real life angry rant. A very rational and deserved one.

Last night Bear and I went to my work colleague’s house. I’ve spoken about her a few times – she’s my main GF. My main BFF. I’ve known her and her husband for five years, maybe even a bit longer than that. From the beginning I’ve known that her husband was a bit of a volatile character, but I’ve never had any dealings with that side of him. He’s been nothing but pleasant to me.

When we arranged our double date evening, I told my BFF that she needed to tell her husband that he could not and definitely should not offer Bear anything boozy to drink. A recovering alcoholic,  the adult soda hasn’t touched his lips in over five months, and we’ve done far too much hard work to let all that go to waste now. I don’t know how much will power Bear has, but I do know that I’m not yet ready to find out. Everything agreed, dinner plans made, we organised the date. I was actually looking forward to it.

The whole day ended up being shit. From start to bloody finish, it was utter wank. The 1.5 hour journey took closer to 3 hours because there were traffic jams and asshole drivers everywhere. By the time we got back to mine, both Bear and I were in dire need of a coffee. (And a nap / cuddle-fuck, but we couldn’t.) We headed to my BFFs for 6pm, hungry and ready to get the evening going.

“I thought you were going to be here at like 12 ish. I’m assuming we can’t do my tattoo now?”

The second we walked into the door it was obvious that my BFF’s husband was not only pissed off, but also very pissed. I didn’t really understand why on either account… He was getting a new tattoo for his birthday, and at a discounted price for that matter, a deal sorted out between friends. None of us had mentioned a time, no definite plans had been made … He was talking about dinner and burgers on the phone when we made the plans. How did that scream 12pm rather than 6pm?

It got worse. He was pretty drunk already – his 9th beer that day. It was 6pm and he was meant to have been getting tattooed. Even if we had turned up at 12-2pm (like he suggested AFTER we’d arrived), he’d already started drinking then so there was no chance he could have got inked. Doesn’t this guy know how the process works? Booze + tattoo = lots of blood and a fuck load of pain. Fucking amateur.

It’s because he’s an alcoholic you see, a functioning one. Or he was, at least. But things may have changed. Escalated? I’m trying not to be a judgemental bitch, but I am a judgmental bitch. He’s let himself go. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years and his weight has yo-yo’d a lot over the time I’ve known him, but he was the biggest I’d ever seen him.

“Ain’t gonna lose the weight with all the cider I’m drinkin’, am I?”

Oh, it’s funny now? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise blatant alcoholism was laughable. Prick.

It wasn’t that he laughed about it though, it was his entire demeanour. Almost as though he knew the cider was making him fat (and the lack of gym and healthy eating), but he just didn’t give a shit. He deliberately chose cider over his weight and appearance. Over being a good husband, friend, tattoo client, or person in general.

Not only that, I didn’t see him interact with his three year old son, or his teenage son, once during the entire three hours we were there. That’s all the time I could manage in his company. The 9th beer soon turned into the 10th, and along came this shitty fucking attitude that I’d been warned about before. When my BFF and I worked together a few years ago, all the boys that we worked with HATED her husband with a passion. I never could work out why. Now I know. Frustratingly, I’ve always stuck up for him. I defended him the entire way through, saying things like, “Oh, you can’t judge. You just don’t know their relationship,” and other such bollocks. I thought they were happy together, but last night I didn’t see a happy couple anymore. I saw a drunken man and a wife who’d had enough. She didn’t even bother to get dressed, sat in her pyjamas and a dressing gown when we knocked on the door. I mean, Bear and I weren’t dressed up or anything, but at least we had actually managed to get dressed. It was instantly apparent that the night wouldn’t be going down quite the way I’d hoped. Bollocks.

My BFF’s hubby had been so rude from the get-go, my back was up from the second we walked into their house. Everything he said after that, I took as a personal attacked.

My BFF: “Wow NSSITC! I’m sure you look smaller!”

BFF’s Hubby: “Nah, she ain’t smaller.”

Go fuck yourself, asshole. Just because you’re a fat fuck now. I’m not fat-ist, before you say anything. I can’t be. I was, by all stretches of the word, fat myself.

But then, in front of his non-tattooed wife, he said these words:

“I wish you’d get tattooed more. Tattooed birds are well fit. Phwoar.”

Mmmhmm. Can you believe he said that … in front of his wife? And, I must add, in the presence of a somewhat tattooed woman. Me.

He was just so rude. We had travelled for hours to get there, to give him a heavily discounted tattoo that he hadn’t even bothered to pay a deposit on yet, and he was drunk by the time we’d even arrived. Not only that, it was evident that my BFF and her Hubby had already argued by the time we’d got there, and he had a raging attitude the entire time we were there.

The next day I woke up to a text from my BFF apologising for her hubby’s behaviour the night before, and I decided to tell it to her straight.

I’m sorry, we won’t be socialising again all the time your husband is drunk. Bear and I have put in too much work to deal with your husband and his neuroses, and if your husband can’t even stay sober enough to get a tattoo he said he really wanted, he’s an alcoholic. End of conversation.

I want to say so much. I want to comment on so much. I want to be so judgemental, but this is my friend. Is this even allowed? I want to talk about how much of a disaster it all was. How messy their house was, for example, or how little attention that man paid to his kids. They might as well have not existed. He didn’t interact with them once, and then I learn that my BFF can’t even trust her husband with his own kids. He’s too drunk, too often to be trusted with his own kids. He can’t even take care of his own toddler.

It frustrates me because my BFF can do so much better. It also frustrates me because I’ve told her before that she needs to be sure she’s definitely sure before she leaves him, which she’s discussed a few times with me. I’ve stuck up for that man, even defending him to her – his wife – and now I feel like he’s stabbed me in the back. He met my boyfriend and was a Grade A cunt to him. Excellent. The first friends of mine that Bear has met and it’s the alcoholic and the wife who won’t ever leave him. Fucks sake.

Hey, at least it’s not my relationship up the shitter for once. My love life is going spectacularly, and I’m loving every godamn minute of it. But man, double dating was absolute shit. Remind me not to do that again.

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