Who’s a Lucky Girl, Then?

March 14, 2008 at 4:07 am (Uncategorized)

Mmm, ladies, don’t you just love it when your husband or boyfriend or occasional lover comes crashing through the door, blind drunk, in the middle of the morning? Oh I do. I think it’s just tops.

So it was like a dream come true for me last night when Llew fell into our room at 2 am, “fresh” from a harbour cruise and a bar hop with his colleagues. I clapped my hands together with glee and exclaimed “This is perfect, husband, thank you! I couldn’t think of a nicer way to be woken up than your kicking the bed and reeking the evening’s excesses all over me!”

Then, of course, I tore off the sheets and ripped off his clothes and lunged at him with all the wanton abandon of pure lust.


I suppose it’s nice that Llew still feels amorous towards me even after he’s consumed enough alcohol to kill a small elephant. It’s sweet, in a way, after all this time, and at least as long as he’s passed out with his arm flung across my face I know where he is and who he’s with. It isn’t always easy when he’s out all night with people I could never identify in a line-up – there’s a lot of trust involved in these things. Who’s he with? Is he drunk and flirting? Has some cheap hussy from his office got the hots for him? I’ll kill her! We all know how well men resist flattery – they’re not susceptible to it at all, are they? No, their egos are watertight! It’d take much more than the attentions of a hot young thing to turn their heads and crowd their trousers, right? RIGHT?! Ahem. Wrong. Men are pussy putty. Let’s be real.

So it’s always nice when Llew calls throughout the night from wherever he is. Except when it passes midnight. After that I’m not so keen to chat. And when it passes one o’clock, I’m really not interested in being woken up so I can listen to loud music and what might be Llew – or the girl in the TV from Poltergeist – saying something I just can’t hear. Maybe it’s something about wishing I was there. Maybe it’s the words to the Macarena. Maybe it’s a joke about three blondes walking into a bar… Actually, that might just get my attention. What blondes?! What bar?! Get the fuck home! But whatever it is, it’s not anything that couldn’t wait until morning.

Much like Llew’s misjudged advances.

He dangled a plastic lei over the bed last night as though he thought he had a hope in hell of exchanging it for the other variety. I greeted it with stony silence. In fact, I only found my voice once Llew, clued in at last to the arctic atmosphere of the boudoir, collapsed in a heap and started immediately, royally snoring. Oh, so help me, I wanted to punch his head in.






I tried everything. I shouted. I cursed. I hit him in the shoulder. I pushed him in the thigh. I nearly wept. But Llew was sleeping soundly, and I, well, I was not sleeping at all. Yes, I love it when Llew’s out without me, it’s grand.



  1. Llew J said,

    I’m just glad we can laugh about it…

  2. doctordi said,

    It’s all we can do, Llewie – nothing else works!

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