“Can you see my black underwear through my skirt?” Wife asked Husband.
“No. All I see is white. Why are you wearing black undies if you think your skirt is see-through?” Husband wondered.
“Because my vagina is in mourning for our deceased sex life,” Wife advised.
“Maybe if you took care of your situation down there, I would be more inclined to penetrate those Amazonian jungle waters,” Husband laughed gesticulating in the direction of her nether region. “Not to mention your pot belly that gets in my way of finding it in the first place.”
“And, maybe if you could get an erection without having to first watch Queer As Folk, I would not have canceled my standing monthly wax appointments five years ago,” Wife retorted. “As for my ‘pot belly,’ I baked our son and daughter in there so you should be on your knees kissing it daily. The only thing you've ever baked in your belly and given to me are your rotten egg infused farts.”
This was Wife’s final exchange with Husband before walking out of their marital home and out on their marriage of ten years. Wife had entered the marriage wearing white, and she thought it befitting to emancipate herself there from wearing the same colour. Although, not the same dress, since gravity and an extra fifteen pounds of labour leftovers now resided on her stomach, ass and thighs. Wife justified ending her union to Husband on the basis that time changes people and they had simply grown apart. That, and the fact that Husband had become a lazy, selfish narcissist who failed at every turn to prove his love for her, notwithstanding her high standards and rigid demands of him, which to her were not unreasonable. It was not so much to ask that he match her career ambitions (at least in salary expectations), having hobbies beyond watching hockey and drinking beer and being an involved co-parent to their two young children.
Sitting in the waiting room of her divorce lawyer’s office, Wife hearkened back to memories of her wedding to Husband. Wife thought about how they could have saved ten years of heartache, family strife, fucking up their kids, if only she had been honest with her new husband, family and guests at the wedding reception. In preparation for her meeting with her lawyer, Wife started to make mental notes to support her case, yet found herself becoming distracted and, as an ode to her impending divorce, daydreamed about what her wedding speech should have been.
Thank you all for coming to my wedding. It means a great deal to me that you all want to help me celebrate this important milestone in my life. But, let’s be honest, fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, so the likelihood is that you will be toasting me on another occasion, at a different hotel, likely in the Caribbean, years from now, regretting having spent so much on the gift you bought me for my first marriage.
To my new husband, in this very moment, at exactly 7:23pm, I truly do love you with all of my heart. And, I plan on loving you until at least my heart gives out, which likely will happen after many years of drinking to get through the monotony of monogamy. Or, until you get fat, lazy and lousy in bed. If our sex life becomes as banal as stale vanilla, you hereby agree to pay for my membership to AshleyMadison.com and will turn a blind eye to any of my extra-marital conjugal affairs. I can assure you that if our sex life becomes as flaccid as your father’s Cialis-dependent penis, it will not be my fault because I am blessed with a libido on lithium. I vow to respect you so long as you earn no less than a six-figure salary, one that allows me the freedom to work less so I can spend more time with our future children, helping to rear them in the image of their hardworking parents, and that supports us having a mansion and no less than two luxury cars. And, with the filthy lucher you will earn, you will also be expected to bestow beneficently upon me jewelry on an annual basis, diamonds primarily, so that we will have heirlooms to bequest to our progeny. If you fail at this, the disrespect you will garner from your children will be earned honestly and fully supported by me. Should our marriage fail, you’ll be my first husband on whom I will look back fondly with contempt and laughter, contempt because you had no money to take in the divorce, and laughter because I will regale my new husband with anecdotes of how small your penis is.
To my in-laws, I want you to know that when I smile at you, it is only because I'm thinking about the day when you kick the bucket and we inherit your money and be rid of your psychopathic behaviour. Alas, the more likely reality will be that I will divorce your son long before that happens because like cockroaches, you will survive a nuclear disaster and live long enough to witness the Apocalypse. You are frigid, pathological lying sociopaths who do not know what genuine emotion means. Even now, my step-monster-in-law cannot smile, not only because her Botox has frozen her face in the likeness of Medussa, but because her heart is as black as coal and years of anorexia have caused so much cell death that her face has been rigored in the same position for the past decade. And, my father-in-law, you are a misogynist of epic proportions who is a control freak and cannot see your kids enjoy any success or triumph greater than anything you have achieved in your small life. Seriously, how many hateful emails can you people send to your son and future daughter-in-law telling them what flowers will be used at the wedding, what songs the band you demanded will play and who will be groomsmen, carrying the punishment of cutting your son out of your Will should your instructions not be followed?
Back to my guests, some of whom will also become known to me as ‘cheap bastards’ because when I unwrap your gifts tomorrow, I will discover that what you gave us is a re-gift because new cookbooks do not have water stains and dog ears, crystal dishes should not have cracks in them and cheap sushi sets and kimonos in triple XL are inappropriate wedding gifts that do not even come close to covering a quarter of the cost of your dinner here tonight.
To my parents, please accept my advance apology for what will likely prove to have been a costly charade. Please just deduct the cost of the wedding from my eventual inheritance of your estate.
“Ma’am, Mr. Harrison, will see you now,” the lawyer’s secretary announced to a smiling Wife, piercing her daydream bubble. Wife would never have the satisfaction of knowing what the reaction would have been had she delivered the wedding speech she just had concocted in her mind. However, she still took immense pleasure from knowing that since she had Husband sign a prenuptual agreement to protect both her substantial premarital assets, as well as those she amassed in their ten year tenure together, she would get to keep the Victorian semi that had been transformed into a fully detached single family palace out of Husband’s slothful hands.
© 2013 Naomi Elana Zener. All Rights Reserved.
nicely written:) aliciaReplyDelete
previous comment from your friend, Alicia. I did not mean to be anonymous but have venture beyond my technological depth here;my apologiesReplyDelete