A not-so-frilling encounter
I have long held the view that men are stupid. Especially when it comes to relationships. Many a friend, married for years, has been shocked to hear that their marriage wasn’t a good one, and that they missed all the signs that were obvious to almost everyone but them.
So often, it came as an unpleasant surprise that their home wasn’t happy and that things had deteriorated beyond repair. In each case, there was disbelief and amazement that when she told him she was miserable, she actually meant it.
I had no idea how this could happen until it happened to me. Imagine my surprise when I realised that I had been blind to the reality that there was now an additional party in our marriage, and that my wife was in another relationship.
Her thoughts were dedicated not to us or our family home but to her new obsession. Worse than that, my competition wasn’t another bloke, perhaps younger and thinner and with a head of ridiculous but enviable hair, but rather a London-based dress that was now occupying each waking moment.
And that when she stared absentmindedly into the distance it wasn’t sunset beach walks that she was thinking of, but the occasions that she and her dress could be at together. It’s said that long-distance relationships don’t last, yet this one proves the contrary.
To be fair, we’re blessed to have two family weddings in the next few months, which as wonderful as that is, is also a great cause of stress. Especially in the “what to wear” department.
Or it was until this lone dress, based somewhere in London, provided the answer to at least one of the dilemmas. The price aside, with travel minimised because of COVID-19, getting it here wasn’t that simple.
But I’m married to someone who’s tenacious, determined, and perhaps a tad obsessive. And so, a kind soul was found and before we knew it, the dress of our dreams was secured.
And then it arrived. With great flourish and excitement, the two of them retreated to the bedroom to get to know each other while the rest of the family waited in anticipation. I need not have felt threatened, as no sooner had they emerged, the look on her face told me that this relationship was not only over, but that she couldn’t believe that she had dallied with it in the first place.
To say that the dress looked like it was purchased in Boksburg South is unfair on the residents of Ekurhuleni, because even they wouldn’t have had the courage to engage in that much lace. They would have, no doubt, drawn the line when, having reached the 50th layer of frills, they would have realised that even the Benoni crowd would look down on them for those sleeves.
The story is no different to a couple who have met and dated online. And then when they finally do get together, they realise that they would make an incredibly poor couple. And so, because one of them might have travelled great distances to meet, they try a bit harder, put in that much more effort, and take it from there.
I have no idea how my wife’s relationship with this dress will end. I don’t know if Benoni will take it back if they decide to part ways. What I do know is that when I see her staring into the distance, I’m confident it’s not that London-based dress that she’s dreaming of.