Curiosity got the better of me yesterday and I went to the audition. All of the other people who turned up to read looked seriously glum. I know that the play is supposed to be a Tragedy, but this lot seemed to be getting into character way too early. Maybe it was a side-effect of the Black Southeaster that’s been blowing in Cape Town for the past couple of days, but it’s more likely that they were just depressed by the dearth of pretty girls at the audition. Everyone perked up noticeably when a young blonde lass walked in a few minutes late, but they all sagged again when she sat down next to me. It would have been more impressive if she hadn’t been a friend of mine, but they didn’t know that (snigger).
The introduction of the abovementioned golden-haired individual to the equation complicates matters for me somewhat. We were in a play together several years ago and we hit it off right away – she’s like the sister I never had. Okay, I do have a sister, but she’s a complete psycho and we haven’t been in contact for the best part of a decade. Anyway, my friendship with the blonde caused my wife’s jealousy gland to swell up to monumental proportions and resulted in some nasty symptoms (e.g. a permanent scowl, coupled with throbbing temples and a refusal to have sex).
I think think my wife inherited this weird condition from her mother, who (against all evidence to the contrary) remains convinced that every unmarried woman is out to grab her dopey-looking husband. Now although my father-in-law is a far cry from the Elephant Man, he isn’t exactly someone who could easily be described as a ‘catch’ (at least, not with a straight face). He looks a bit like an aging George W. Bush, but with less hair and fewer feet in his mouth.
It is important to note that I have never cheated on my wife, nor have I ever given her reason to distrust me, but she still insisted that I terminate all contact with my friend. Apparently, she did not believe it was possible for me to be friends with another woman. My spouse has numerous male chums, but that, according to her, is “different”. Different rules, at any rate. Separate sauce for the gander, it would appear. For the sake of our happy union, I nevertheless agreed to her thoroughly unreasonable demand and things eventually returned to normal. But now… Storm’s a-comin’, Paw.