Confessions of a Kinky Wife

I’m sure I’m just as annoying when drunk, but it’s nails down a blackboard to watch this kind of behaviour when you’re sober.

‘It’s a work night,’ I said, as calmly as I could.

‘For you,’ he said. ‘I’m on nights tomorrow and Wednesday. C’mon, another hour won’t hurt.’

‘Fine,’ I said, in my best ‘I mean the opposite of fine’ voice.

I left the group and went into the kitchen.

If I had any more Coke I’d turn into a gibbering, bug-eyed caffeine freak.

One glass of wine. Not enough to take me over the limit.

I knew Dan strongly disapproved of drinking anything before driving, but I figured one wouldn’t hurt. He wouldn’t know, being beered up to the gills himself.

I poured myself a Pinot Grigio – because it wouldn’t give me a purple tongue, never accuse me of having no talent for crime – and sat myself on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. I took down a cookery book from the shelf and began to read as I sipped.

About ten minutes into this, one of the female cops from Dan’s division whom I vaguely knew came in and started chatting about recipes. The chat sort of drew me in, and by the time I realised she’d poured me another, I’d half-drunk it.

Shit.

Now I was over the limit.

It was all Dan’s fault! Why did he have to stay another hour? Pure selfishness!

As was my old habit, I was converting my anger at myself into anger at him, but I couldn’t see it at the time. I was blinded with righteous wrath and wine.

I put down my glass and went back into the main living area. Hearty male laughter rang out from the corner sofa where Dan and his mates were settled.

As I entered, Dan looked up, put down his empty can and half-rose to his feet. He fell back, precipitating another gale of laughter.

‘Oops,’ he said. ‘Ready to go, my angel?’ he asked, putting his hand over his mouth to suppress a burp. Yep. Drunk as a skunk.

‘If I’m an angel already, yes, definitely,’ I said, to chuckles.

I didn’t want to confess my crime in front of all these people, though.

I waited until Dan had done all his elaborate goodbye rituals, slung a slightly clumsy arm around my shoulder and made his way to the lifts.

‘Good party,’ he said, obviously making a massive effort not to slur. So he wasn’t that far gone. ‘D’you enjoy yourself, babe?’

‘Er, yeah. Maybe a bit too much.’

He gave me a puzzled look as we stepped out into the basement car park.

‘Whass that?’

‘The thing is …’

We arrived by the car. There was nobody else around.

‘I can’t drive back.’

‘Oh, Pip, you promised. Look at me. I can’t.’

‘I had a drink. Two drinks.’

This seemed to sober him like a fingersnap between the eyes.