I read the other day that it is estimated between 30% and 60% of married individuals will have an extramarital affair. That’s a big range.
What I’d like to know is how many people suspect their spouse is having an affair. I’m thinking the stats are even higher for this category. I think wives may be a little more prone to being suspicious. Maybe it’s because we doubt ourselves more (will those extra pounds cause a problem?); we are prone to hormonal changes that make us at times a little, well… off balanced; and our lack of sleep can result in some minor paranoia.
There were two occasions when I thought my husband might be having an affair. The first time went a little like this…
I had just folded the laundry and I was putting things away. One of my drawers had become so stuffed that I couldn’t close it all the way (this happens more than I’d like to admit), so I opened the bottom drawer (the one reserved for the stretched out underwear, torn hose, and socks with holes in them –items that can be recycled and put to good use again) to see if I could cram one more item in there. That’s when I saw them. Underwear. Several pairs of them.
The only problem was, they weren’t mine. I knew this instantly when I held them up to take a closer look. They were huge briefs and they were made of nylon. I’m a cotton girl. They were clean, however.
The rest of the day I thought about how I was going to confront my husband with this little discovery. I thought I would be subtle – causally bring it up. Drop a hint here and another hint there. Make him squirm. Let him know I was on to him.
But that plan went straight out the door when he walked in. I threw the underwear at him and shouted, “If you are going to have an affair with someone at least have the common decency to have an affair with someone who doesn’t wear GRANNY PANTIES!”
This definitely got his attention. He picked a pair off his shoulder and gave some lame answer saying he had never seen the underwear before and asked if perhaps they were mine and I had forgotten about them in my lost drawer.
Um, I don’t think so.
Now I was really mad. Clearly, they were not mine. They were 2-3 sizes too big.
Then he offered up this explanation. My mom had been to visit a several months prior to my discovery. He said that maybe they were her underwear and she somehow “misplaced” them in my drawer when she was helping with the laundry.
He was unbelievable – bringing my mother into all of this.
I called her a day or two later and asked if perhaps she was missing any underwear. She said she wasn’t and that all of hers were accounted for.
Then I sort of remembered needing some rather large underwear about a year before when I was pregnant. (I had gained 60 lbs.) It’s possible that when I no longer needed them, I may have stuffed them in the drawer for safe keeping until the next pregnancy.
No point in telling my husband – I like to keep him on his toes.
The second time went a little like this… again, I was doing laundry. (Note to self – nothing good can come from doing laundry.)
I was pulling clothes out of the dryer when I pulled a pair of black pants and a shirt out. I didn’t recognize the pants and shirt at first – they were of the petite size.
Then I saw that the shirt had my husband’s company logo on it so I naturally concluded that he was having an affair with someone at work – someone much younger and much smaller. This was definitely a step in the right direction. This was an affair I could live with.
When he got home later, my tirade sounded something like this, “If you are going to have an affair with someone, at least have the common decency to ask her to do her own laundry!”
Again, he offered a lame explanation saying someone at his work location was quitting and she was giving her work clothes to someone at another location. He was simply the courier. He had stuffed the clothes inside his gym bag and they got mixed up in the wash when he emptied the bag into the dirty clothes basket. Likely story.
Both of these incidences occurred when my kids were in the baby stage, just six years apart. I am willing to consider the possibility that sleep deprivation and hormonal surges may have contributed to my suspicions.
Life lesson. Bad things happen when you do the laundry. I don’t know why I don’t stop altogether.
This reflection has helped me decide what we’re having for dinner. One of my son’s (and my) favorites is Chicken Pot Pie. My husband doesn’t care for it much. Serves him right.
Chicken Pot Pie
Ingredients: 2 cups of chopped rotisserie chicken, 1/4 cup of chopped onion, 2 tablespoons of butter, 1 can of Cream of Chicken soup, one large bag of frozen vegetables (I like vegetable medley and half a bag of okra), 1 cup of chicken stock, 1 cup of heavy cream (or whole milk), salt and pepper, and one prepared crust.
Melt butter in a sauce pan and saute the chopped onion. Add all of the other ingredients and stir until warm and vegetables are no longer frozen. Salt and pepper to taste. Pour warm mixture into a large, rounded oven-proof dish and roll the crust on top. Cut a few small slits in the crust. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes and crust is golden.
Note. I like to use a rotisserie chicken because I can usually get two meals out of it and it is always full of flavor. You can also saute mushrooms and add brocoli to this dish.