How To Endure Double Standards & pop Crazy Pills

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Last week my wife told me she wanted to go to a Happy Hour with friends on Thursday of the same week. I didn't mind, as I never do. It doesn't make sense for neither of us to have a social life. On Thursday, I picked up the kids, fed the baby first then made dinner for myself and my preteen. Despite The Office not being on, the evening was great and actually more relaxing than usual. After flipping channels through too much bad TV my son began playing Wii and my daughter dragged me to the back of our apartment to our room (her crib is across the room from the bed) to show me her summer collection of sandals. While we were there we discussed letters of the alphabet, what happened at the sitter's that day, and she rattled off the names of all her friends, including the friends in her head - the cast of SpongeBob Square Pants.

In the midst of this, something was missing: my wife. I tried to call her on her cell phone just to make sure all was well and, as usual, she didn't answer. I assumed she was having fun and left it alone.

She came in around eleven, by far the longest Happy Hour in the history of Happy Hours. Since the mood was light in the house I cracked a joke at her expense and she didn't find it funny (I spent the next several minutes convincing her it was all in fun). She got comfortable, bathed the baby (even though she was already in her pajamas and half asleep). And then she went to sleep without saying a word.

I was a bit perplexed. Had I gone out saying I was going to be home by eight or nine and then shown up at eleven without as much as a phone call and then gone straight to bed without telling her, I would've woken up in the middle of the night with a knife to my throat. But c'est la vie. Wives are able to do what husbands cannot. It's the trade off that comes when you love someone and then pop a bottle of crazy pills and decide to get married.