Ouch. Right now, that’s all I can think of this morning. I had gone out with my friend Queltor last night and my body is starting to feel the effects of it. Let’s face it, folks: I ain’t no Spring chicken anymore.
Which is fine. Angela knows where I’d be (drunk downtown). If the situation turned out worse than I thought it would be I’d get a hotel room. This concept seems a tad foreign to some of my friends and they ask “is your wife ok with you getting a room downtown when you’ve been drinkng?”
Luckily, Angela I the one who books the room for me 😉
This level of trust is reciprocated, of course. I raise no objections when she wants to go out clubbing with her girlfriends or take off on a mini-vacation without me. Really, what should I expect to do? Stop her? Have her resent me?
Tonight she’s going to watch Poison in concert. Do I fear that somehow she’ll get caught up in all the manliness which is Bret Michaels? Of course I do! I’ve seen his reality series. He’s an irresistable God.