Okay, so last week I gave a nice shout-out to the mistress. Lest you think I'm one of those wives just blaming the other women for my husband's affair, don't worry. Two to tango, I know, I know.
So I promised you a missive to Dear Husband, after he was spotted shoe shopping with the mistress last month.
Hey DH, those really were nice Jimmy Choos you bought her. Always knew you had good taste.
Funny though. I thought your lunches were all booked up with clients, not expeditions to find three-inch heels.
I remember getting the call late in the afternoon. "Geeg, it's Rachel. Don't know how to tell you this, but I saw your DH in the Jimmy Choo store today with someone ... "
I had fun with that, later that evening, when you got home. And don't think I wasn't thinking about this when I watched that episode of Mad Men last night, where the wife is trying to get Don Draper to admit he was having an affair.
"How was your day?" I asked casually.
"So intense," you said. "Our long position in pharma is killing us, and no way we're underwriting the new allergy drug in Curtis's pipeline."
"Let me guess. You took old man Curtis out for a nice lunch at the Yale club and broke the news to him when the appetizer arrived."
"Yep. That's how I did it. But we talked about the Yankees first."
DH, you continued to describe a lunch in perfect detail — a lunch that never happened. Impressive.
"So you made it through lunch," I said. "Did you guys go upstairs and sweat it off in the gym?"
"No. He had to go back and tell his office. But it's all good. We're both Scroll & Keys — we've survived worse than this."
I still said nothing, and marveled at the minutia you made up to go along with your fictitious lunch with Curtis. The boys were in the kitchen. I couldn't start that fight in front of the kids.
But still, I pressed you a little.
"Any shopping today?" I asked nonchalantly.
"No, you're the shopper in this family. Remember?"
Yes, I remember. I remember when I used to shop for lacy underwear at La Coquette in the Village. And slinky evening gowns at Barneys. Used to surprise you, even, with monogrammed shirts from Ascot Chang and ties from Zegna — just "because." And shoes I'd buy at ...
Now, though, I'm that JC Penney gal buying your kids back-to-school garb: sneakers and backpacks and bright yellow raincoats.
Well, I think that's gonna change.
Today. I'm gonna skip the gym and go to Jimmy Choo. If I knew what pair of shoes you bought your mistress there, I'd buy the exact same ones.
But since I don't, I think I'll just spring for something completely off the charts.
You know, F#&K-me shoes. I won't wear them to work, so that they don't think I've gone off the deep end there. I still need that job. But I will wear them on Saturday morning around the house. You know, while I'm scrambling eggs and paging through the paper. Let's see if you notice, DH.
If you do, and if you even seem slightly perturbed by my choice of footwear, the conversation that will follow (after we drop the kids at hockey, of course) should be one for the books.
If you say nothing, DH, I'll know that you know, that I'm onto you.
We can have that conversation, too.