You are really funny when you’re drunk. Or perhaps not merely drunk so much as completely and utterly rat-arsed, hammered, toasted, legless, sloshed and wasted. Like you were the other night. This week, you attended a client Christmas party at the Opera Bar and from what I gather, you really enjoyed yourself. And I’m really glad. So this is not going to be an I can’t believe you went and got drunk letter although I have to say, I can’t believe you initially thought you wouldn’t get drunk! As if that was ever going to happen.
When the invitation came up and it was obviously close to my due date, you were all I’d really like to go but I’m not sure if I should. Then you were like ok, I’ll go but I’ll only have a couple so I can come home if needed and get you to the hospital. The party went from 4-7 officially and by the time you rang to check on me some time past 6, you were getting tipsy. Since it was all quiet on the western front however, I assured you that it was really ok to go ahead and enjoy yourself which is precisely what you did.
So much so in fact that you called me later, after 7 when the event was “officially” over, to tell me that the party was great and that you were definitely drunk. You did however think that you probably had a couple more in you so if I was still good then you were going to stay. I was fine and so you went back to the festivities and I didn’t hear from you again till about 8:30 when you rang me to say you were coming home. After you had gotten something to eat. And by the way – was it bad that you could see two of everything?? Giggling and snickering ensued (giggling on your part, snickering on mine) and I told you I thought food was a really good idea but please take care and remember that you need to get on two different trains from Circular Quay to get home.
When I didn’t hear back from you over the next hour, I decided to give you a call to check up and you were a LOT more subdued. The buzz seemed to have worn off and you sounded really tired. You were on the train though and I could overhear an announcement saying that you were at Strathfield with the next stop being Granville so you were at least heading in the right direction. You told me you’d let me know when to pick you up and then hung up on me. I got an sms shortly thereafter though to let me know you’d be in at 5 to 10. So I got ready to pick you up at the station and I was waiting there for you at 9:55pm. I was still waiting for you at the station at 10:05pm, at 10:15pm and at 10:25pm. I didn’t know where you were and your phone was going straight to voicemail so I figured it was dead. I hate your phone.
I wasn’t freaking out like I did in Egypt when you were off the grid as far as I was concerned which was a good thing. I also wasn’t overly worried for your safety which is probably also a good thing for a really pregnant woman but I was concerned. I figured you were somewhere in Western Sydney (hoped like hell you weren’t in the mountains) but I didn’t know where or what had happened. I didn’t know if you’d had to run off the train somewhere to throw up so you were still coming from the East. I didn’t know if you had slept past the stop so you were now training in from the West. I didn’t know whether you were so tired that you figured you’d catch a cab home from wherever you ended up rather than training back and I’d get a phone call saying you were home once you’d plugged in your phone. I didn’t know whether you’d head home and pass out before you managed to call me and I’d find you there if I left the station. I wasn’t sure if I should check the other side of the station and if I did, whether you’d arrive, come out the side I was currently and start walking home cause I wasn’t there. I just didn’t know.
I sent you a couple of texts and I kept trying to call. I checked for you amongst the passengers that I could see from the trains coming in and I waited. I waited till 10:30pm thinking that I would leave after that and then I stayed 5 extra minutes just in case. At 10:35pm I figured I’d been there for forty minutes so it was fair enough that I left to look for you elsewhere. I had the puppy in the back of the car and he was bored too. I was literally about 30 seconds away from pulling out of the parking spot when you walked down the stairs. Apparently you’d slept past the stop and woke up at the end of Western Sydney, just shy of ending up in the mountains. You were pretty sheepish.
So I brought you home and undressed you when you passed out in bed. I then laughed at you when you surfaced shortly thereafter and started your drunken ramblings. You assured me slurringly that you had only had a little to drink that night and you were really sober. Totally sober, in fact. “So very ber!” as it were. And when I asked if you had spent any money buying drinks since the party finished at 7pm and you had not left till 8:30pm you assured me that you “flirted with the bartender and used [your] hotness to get the free booze”. Well done, Dear Husband, well done.
Now I wasn’t mad that night at all. I was glad that I could get you home safely. I was happy that you had the opportunity to go out and enjoy yourself before bub comes. I was pleased that you were doing something for you. But I did wait at the station for you for forty minutes without knowing where you were so you get this letter as a permanent reminder that I think you’re funny when you’re drunk.
Your Loving Wife
* Photo taken at this year’s Sculptures By The Sea