Hitting the Jackpot – And Heading to Crazytown

I was rummaging through the bathroom cabinet in the midst of a cleaning frenzy when I found the note. I can’t remember the woman’s name, but there it was, scribbled in biro with her phone number underneath. A gamut of emotions and thoughts rolled quickly through my mind. Feelings raced in circles like a slot machines apples, lemons and oranges, except I’d replaced them with confusion, fear and hurt. They flickered by at a speed that scrambled my mind and when they eventually lined up, I stopped at confusion.

Whose number was this? Was G having an affair? Was it a woman he met while he was traveling? Why was the note here in the bathroom cabinet? Had he quickly had to hide it?

The thoughts took off again, they were moving to quickly, I was beginning to feel ill. I stopped at fear. Was this how we were going to end? Had he fallen out of love? Could/would we get through this? Where would I go if we broke up? Australia, yes, but where? Would I stay with my parents or would it make more sense to move to the city – I’d earn more in the city, they’d be more options for schooling. I considered the price of housing.

I had to sit down. The tiles on the bathroom floor were cold and hard, I could see the soap scum around the bottom of the shower alcove. I suddenly felt like the epitome of the dowdy housewife with my track pants and pony tail, cleaning out the bathroom cupboards while my children played in the background. I thought of the woman with the number, she probably never wore track pants, she would be child free with an extensive wardrobe of size 8 lacy underwear, and a high paying job in the city.

And then I remembered.

We’d been at the pub. They’d been a table of girls nearby and I’d decided our friend Mike needed to meet them. I’d mentioned that G and I had golfed on our honeymoon and one of the girls asked if I wanted a game sometime and scribbled down her number.

G hadn’t picked up any women. I had.

Seventy nine drinks later and I’d completely forgotten.

I laughed that night as I retold the story to G. It was funny, a joke, how stupid of me. “You don’t really think I’d have an affair do you?” G looked hurt, a little bemused by where I’d let myself go in the space of five minutes.

And I didn’t – I didn’t think he’d have an affair.

Until I found the note.

Have you ever done this? Let your mind take you to crazy town?

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