Confessions of an Ex-Husband | Part 1
By Gunther B. Trout…possibly the ex-husband, but that can’t be confirmed…
Disclaimer: This story is based on true events, but the names and locations of the events have been changed to protect the privacy of the people it is based on. Everything else is true.
I like the color blue. It goes well with my eyes and usually complements the outfits that I wear (usually dark colors, nothing goth though). While I didn’t meet my wife Rachael while wearing anything blue, I basically wore the color blue at church every Sunday. Little did I know that the color blue was my wife’s kryptonite in the worst sense of the word.
It was July in Salt Lake City, and my mother-in-law was running a basket weaving class for the folks who wanted to learn in her community. My wife was very adamant that attending this class was going to be the cure to cancer (at least that’s how she was hyping it up). So as the day approached for the class, my sister calls me with some unexpected news. “We’re moving to Salt Lake!” she said with a bunch of enthusiasm. I was over the moon to hear that my sibling was moving so close to me, I responded “when’s the day?” It was happening on the same day as the basket weaving class…crap.
I proposed that I would go help with the move while Rachael would go cure cancer…I mean, learn to basket weave
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So, I went to Rachael with my quandary. I told her that I needed to go help my sister move, not just because she’s my sister, but because she has just had a baby. Meaning, that she’s going to have her hands full with the baby and can’t help her husband much with the move itself. “Of course, you can go help,” I thought she would say, but it turned out to be quite the battle to convince her that the best course of action of the day was to divide and conquer. I proposed that I would go help with the move while Rachael would go cure cancer…I mean, learn to basket weave. After a battle of wits (mostly consisting of the overall impact on society through basket weaving), I was finally able to go under the condition that I rushed to the latter half of the class.
The day came, and I rushed to the new abode of my sister dearest to help be manly and stuff. Fun fact: I’m not the manliest of men. I have twigs for arms and the overall countenance of an upside-down tootsie pop. Despite my physical capabilities, I did my absolute best to help in a timely manner, and to my surprise, I managed to finish before the class ended. I was just about to leave when my mom stopped me by saying, “while you’re here, let’s go get you a new suit”.
I needed a new suit bad…like really bad. My overall dress attire consisted of some tan khakis and a light patchwork-type suit jacket that I got from Forever 21. With fear in my heart, I called my wife to get her opinion, and to my absolute surprise, she said yes. That is under a single condition that I didn’t get a blue suit. Easy right?
I looked good, really good despite my self-esteem issues. I had to have it.
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The suit store was run by some old friends from high school, so I was excited to catch up with them as they were feeling up my giblets (taking my measurements). As I looked around the store, my mom grabbed me and guided me like the boatman of the river Styx to my worst nightmare. There was a blue suit, and what’s worse, it fit me perfectly (give or take an inch). I looked good, really good despite my self-esteem issues. I had to have it. At my mom’s suggestion, I decided to facetime my wife and show her that blue does look good.
“You look terrible,” she said. She said that not just in front of me, but in front of the whole store, and most importantly in front of my mom. The look on my mom’s face when she said her youngest son looked terrible was heartbreaking. It was like she realized that this woman she let her son marry had fooled him. I, on the other hand, was embarrassed and hurt to see this happen in front of my mom and friends. “Just get a dark gray suit and come home. You’ve already missed the class.” As I was about to walk out of the store with the gray suit, my mom grabs the blue suit, says “blame it on me”, and then buys the suit along with the gray one. She would later go on to tell me that my face lit up like a Christmas tree when I was wearing that suit and that she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t get it for me.
…especially after the slap my wife gave me as soon as I got home…
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As much as I would like to say that this was the end of our ill-fated marriage, especially after the slap my wife gave me as soon as I got home, it wasn’t. I can think of two other instances where I should have ended it then and there, but hey, I still look really good in the suit.
Read Confessions of an Ex-Husband | Part 2
