Double Dating is Shit
I need to have a rant, peeps. A real rant, not an irrational one this time. A real-life angry rant. A very rational and deserved one.
Last night, Bear and I went to a friend’s house. I’ve spoken about her a few times, she’s my main GF. The big BFF. I’ve known her and her husband for five years, maybe even a bit longer than that, and from the beginning, I’ve known that her husband was a bit of a volatile character. I’ve never had any dealings with that side of him, though. 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 he could not and definitely should not offer Bear anything boozy to drink. A recovering alcoholic, the boozy stuff 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.
For the record, double dating is shit.
— NotSoSexintheCity (@notsosexintheci) February 17, 2017
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 to where we needed to be, both Bear and I were in dire need of a coffee. (And a nap/cuddle-fuck but that was off the table.) We headed to my BFFs for 6 pm, 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 something exciting for his birthday (and at a discounted price for that matter), a deal sorted out between friends. None of us had mentioned times, 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 12 pm rather than 6 pm?
It got worse. He was pretty drunk already and on his 9th beer of the day. It was 6 pm and he was meant to have been getting inked. Even if we had turned up at 12-2 pm (like he suggested AFTER we’d arrived), he’d already started drinking, 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. Eye roll.
It’s because he’s an alcoholic, you see; a functioning alcoholic. Or he was a functioning alcoholic. Things may have changed. Escalated? I’m trying not to be a judgemental bitch, but I am a judgmental bitch. He’d let himself go a bit.
“Ain’t gonna lose the weight with all the cider I’m drinkin’, am I?”
He kept making jokes about all the drinks he’d consumed. Oh, it’s funny, is it? 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 an asshole and out-of-shape [his words], but he just didn’t give a shit. He deliberately chose cider over everything else. The way he looked, the way he acted, everything. Even over being a good husband, dad, friend, 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 by all of our other friends. All the boy mates 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. I saw a drunken man and a wife who’d had enough. She didn’t even get dressed, just sat in her pyjamas and a dressing gown when we knocked on the door. Bear and I weren’t dressed up or anything, but at least we actually managed to get dressed. It was instantly apparent that the night wouldn’t be going down quite the way we’d hoped. Bollocks.
My BFF’s hubby had been so rude from the get-go that my back was up the second we walked into their house. Everything he said after that, I took as a personal attack.
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 fat myself. I still get a bit chonky from time to time and that’s just FINE. But I work hard (a bit) to keep my weight in check (ish). How dare he dismiss it with his beer goggles on?
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.”
Can you believe he said that … in front of his wife AND HER FRIENDS? And, I must add, in the presence of a somewhat tattooed woman. Me.
He was just so rude. We travelled for hours to get to them, to give him something that was actually quite expensive for his birthday, and he was drunk by the time we’d even arrived. Not only that, it was evident that my BFF and her Hubby been arguing before we arrived; he had a raging attitude the entire time we were there.
The next morning, I woke up to a text from my BFF apologising for her hubby’s behaviour the night before. 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 ink he said he really wanted, he’s an alcoholic. End of conversation.
I wanted to say so much. I want to say so many things and be so judgemental, but this is my friend. Is being judgemental even allowed? I want to talk about how much of a disaster it all was. How messy their house was or how little attention that man paid to his kids or wife. It was like they didn’t exist. He didn’t interact with them once, and while I was there, I learned my BFF doesn’t even trust her husband with his own kids. He’s too drunk too often to be trusted to take care of them. He can’t even take care of his own toddler, WHAT?!
It frustrates me because my BFF can do so much better. It also frustrates me because I’ve told her before 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 meets 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 goddamn minute of it.
But man, double dating was absolute shit.
Remind me not to do that again.
