A few years after marriage arrives a day when you find yourself plopped on the sofa looking like cinderella before the fairy godmother came to visit her, with a drink in your hand and a murder on your mind, crying yourself into hysterics, wondering how the hell this happened.
Whilst your husband after choosing his brand of beer now battles at the grocery store wondering if it was white eggs you wanted or brown… And whether it was fusili you needed or penne for the party tomorro, as he eyes the leggy brunette in the queue who looks a tad like you once used to…
God forbid if he takes her pic n sends it to you with the words choose….ofcourse he meant to click the pasta..
So you do get the picture, literally and figuratively, pasta and brunette. You get out of those mickey mouse pyjamas, chuck the drink and hide the cheeseballs…dab some mascara and lipstick and open the door before he rings the doorbell.
He talks about pasta and radishes as you walk suggestively and waggle your eyebrows. You smell great he says and then he grins at you and looks at the tv remote with desire in his eyes…. IPL time baby…
You are left squirming with your too tight lacy underthings feeling exactly like those tomatoes which you are sure are squished under his favorite beer.
He looks at you, hesitates “Did I do something wrong? I can go back if you want, this match can wait”, he says. His eyes plead for a no..scream at you. You give him your most dazzling smile, “I am heading out to spa, will take care of it. I just needed your credit card”. His sigh of relief is almost audible.
Nahhh you werent going to fight…not with that mascara n lipstick on already. Plus he loves the matches, so you pick up his car keys and card and strut out… Might as well have that spa treatment you’ve been longing for, plus those fab nails. By the time you’re done, you could give any leggy brunette a tough competition. You savor the admiring glances as you walk back to the parking and drive to your best friend’s.
A few drinks later you are talking about how he was the perfect boyfriend and husband…..until he wasnt…
You were his sunshine, his sweetdish and then..
Then life kicked the shit out of you, as it usually does and the castles that you had built together out of thin air came tumbling down till all you could see was the paperwork that needed to be completed, the EMIs that needed to be paid, the stacks of dirty dishes that needed clearing and the laundry that needed to be folded and put away.
The catching up was good, the rant helped… Kohli scored bigtime and won! As you drive back thinking of hubby, you smile, he isnt that bad after all. You could write an apology note but the imp in you has woken up and the note says….”Sorry for the dent …love u”. You get out of the car smiling, thinking of the entire hour he will spend trying to find the non existing dent whilst you are off to leave the kids at school.
You rave about Rohit as you eat the takeaway with him. (The new sexy masseur at the spa) and watch the brunette avenged as his eyes change expression.
Good night hon…you whisper as you gaze into his eyes, Wasn’t today awesome?? And this time when you walk away it isnt the brunette or ipl that comes to his mind.
Marriage is an institution, it isnt about winning or losing…its about keeping your sanity, your humor alive. Sometimes its just about – “not squishing those tomatoes”