In 1996 I was transferred to base three hours south from where my husband and I were stationed and from our home. It was a promotion for me. A chance to do a job a no other woman in my career field had done. I talked to my husband and we agreed that in order to get promoted I needed to show breadth of experience. So in November of that year I rented a small apartment and for next three years made the three hour drive home every weekend.
One day my husband called me and asked me if he could sponsor the bachelor party for a good friend of ours. This friend was in his late 30's and getting married for the first time. My husband wanted to hold it at our house and that meant I couldn't come home Friday evening as usual.
I struggled with this. I know what bachelor parties are like. My husband assured me there would be cigars, poker, and lots of booze but nothing sexual. "I don't get into that stuff! I have a reputation to protect!" he assured me. I was torn between being a trusting partner or an over-bearing wife. "Just say the word and I'll tell them no," he said. I never had children, I didn't want one now. OK, I agreed. Just please, don't get stupid.
The night of the party my husband called me several times to tell me how boring the party was and how much he missed me. That was kind of strange. The next morning I left very early so I could get home and survey the damage but to my surprise, my husband was up and doing dishes. The rest of the house was immaculate. This just didn't smell right. My husband was so cheerful and proud that he was able to host our friend and have a good time that I almost believed him.
Almost.
The next day he went to the store. I opened the drawer to his dresser and on the first pass found a video tape. The tape started with lots of young men lighting cigars and toasting our friend. The doorbell rang. Two very young women entered. They stripped. They lap-danced. They used my kitchen towels to wipe sweat off their breasts. They walked around MY house naked and sat on MY furniture. Naked. They went on my deck which overlooked all our neighbors homes and got beer from a keg. They sat on laps and made themselves comfortable. The video went blank. I wonder what happened next.
I packed my things and drove back to my apartment. My husband called me on my cell phone. I didn't answer. I was sick. I wanted to burn my furniture. I wanted to scream at my husband. I was insulted. Angry.
He called me when I got home. He was frantic. What happened? Where are you? Why did you leave? I told him about the tape. Denials. I can explain. It's not like it looks. I hung up. He called me all week. I'll come there he said. I'll drive down there. OK. Come down here. You owe it to me.
He arrived. Where's the tape? I sent it to the wives of your friends, I said. His face went white. No, I didn't do that, I only wanted to. Then the excuses. He didn't hire the strippers. Someone else called them. What could he do? Once they arrived he couldn't tell them to leave.
Why not, I asked. You know it's my home too. You knew I wouldn't approve. You live there, why couldn't you just say no? Because, how would that look? Look to who?? Then the coup de grace. You should have told me no if you didn't want this to happen.
So I should have been the one with morals. I should have acted like your mother. I should never trust you. We argued on and on. It was like talking to a wall. He simply refused to give an inch. What if one of them had brought drugs, would you have let that happen? That's different and you know it he yelled. Why? It just is.
Nothing happened, he told me. It was just some strippers. You know I don't get into that. The tape cut off because the party ended. You saw it all. On and on and on. I didn't believe him but I couldn't get to a divorce over a bachelor party. Surely he learned a lesson. Surely I was over reacting. Surely it was a momentary lapse of judgement but I wondered how a man could think so little of his wife that he wouldn't consider her feelings about something that went on in her home. I couldn't shake that thought. We shared a home but he didn't care enough to consider my feelings. And he wasn't honest enough to tell me that.
Like many storms, this passed. But like many storms, this left damage behind.
