That's right. The wok's gone.
I'm not talking about the appliance on the kitchen counter, although this one was about as exciting. No, I'm talking about my husband. Er. . . soon-to-be ex-husband. I'm just days away from a finalized divorce.
Once upon a time I thought we had a great marriage. Not very exciting, though. We'd both go to work, come home, sit companionably at the dinner table and talk about our boring days at work. Then, unless it was a Monday night during football season, we'd share the sofa and catch whatever the show of the night was. And every Wednesday we had dinner with two other couples.
But things changed.
At first it was just once in a while, but it soon happened more and more frequently.
EW (short for Electric Wok) would call me, all apologetic. "Sorry, Cody. I've got a late meeting." Or business dinner. Whatever.
Going off on a bit of a tangent here, but I hated the way he called me Cody. My name is Dakota, you dickhead. Dakota. Check the marriage license.
Anyway, it happened more and more frequently as time wore on, but I really didn't think much about it. His job was demanding. And he insisted he was on the fast track to a promotion. And once he got that promotion, we could start trying to have a family.
Idiot that I am, I believed him. Believed it. All of it.
Then came the night of the fateful dinner. It started out a regular Wednesday night dinner -- Hail! Hail! The gang's all here. I'd gone to the restaurant straight from work, so after we were seated, I headed straight for the ladies' room. Fix the lipstick and crap like that. She followed me. Of course, she wasn't she yet, but she would be soon. Very soon.
As we stood side-by-side in front of the mirror fixing our lipstick, she very casually started talking. Except the topic wasn't casual at all. Not at all.
She caked that lipstick on her lips, ground them together, then opened them back up with a sticky pop. Then she turned to me, smiled (she had lipstick on her left front tooth), and said, "I've been sleeping with Darryl."
Darryl, by the way, is EW. My husband. This woman who was supposed to be my friend was screwing my husband. I stood there, dumbfounded. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. That bitch!
Was it true? Only one way to find out. But I had to wait until we were all at the table together.
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