He of course didn’t see any of this. In his eyes he had the perfect marriage and life and I’m think to the outside world it looked that way. I often wondered how they talked about us when we weren’t there. Not expecting anything different, I didn’t complain.
On the other hand. I would talk to the wives. We were friends. We’d chat online, text, they’d visit the boutique. We stayed in touch. I would always hear at least the wife’s side of the story. I held the mother whose daughter got pregnant. I’d talked for hours with the woman whose husband left her. Most stories were sad, complicated, and not simplistic to deal with as Jim would think. They made me think about the communication in my marriage.
I think the one that finally set me off was when one of my friends had an affair. Afterwards they had stayed together and worked it out. She told me all about it. She wasn’t proud of it. Her husband was not a bad man. He just wouldn’t listen to her. She felt smothered and lost and she felt she was losing herself. They’d tried counseling, but he was convinced it was her. It wasn’t till the affair that he was shocked into paying attention. He didn’t want his current life or his marriage to disappear. They started working on it together.
Jim went on for months about how he’d never have stayed, that she was a slut. How he would have beat up her, or him, or both of them. He claimed he would kill one of them. He said he’d divorce her and take everything they had. The rant would change but he’d still rant.
Everytime he saw one of them, or saw them together he would start again. He’d call her a cheating bitch, and him a wuss. It was a lot to hear.
The second thing that happened was on one of our nights out. We were sitting in a pub type restaurant and I noticed a couple sitting at the bar. They weren’t really talking. I don’t even think Jim noticed. I watched for a while. Soon another guy came into the bar. He sat down next to her but leaving a respectful seat between them.
After a little while the woman and the guy started talking. He talked to the man the woman was with also, but mostly the woman. They became engaged in conversation. Then he moved from his one seat away right next to the woman. It was about then Jim noticed.
“Look at that,” he said. “It looks like he’s hitting on her. If that were me I’d tell the guy to take a hike.”
“Why?” I asked. “They’re just talking.” I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it.
“Why’s he talking to her?” he started. “She’s obviously with that other guy. Most guys don’t talk to women unless they’re hitting on them.”
He went on about how disrespectful it was and how he’d punch the guy out and drag his girlfriend out of there. He’d make sure she didn’t disrespect him again. I just listened to him rant.
I just listened. There was no use in saying anything.
One Saturday night it came to a head.
Jim had invited 3 guys he worked with over to play cards. I’d met the guys and I didn’t mind. They were nice enough. They were polite to me and it was Jim’s home and he was welcome to have his friends here.