Aug. 24, 2009
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Being home alone makes me thankful for a full house
The Family Guy I'm referring to the triple team of Chaos, Creation and Cuteness collectively known as my family. They have left for a full 24 hours to visit grandma in Atlanta, leaving Mr. Wild Thing here to enjoy some serious freedom. As of this writing, I can do anything I want – scratch where I want, burp when I want, turn up the TV as loud as I want. I can even listen to the CDs with the explicit lyrics and parental warnings, 'cause on this night, I'm no parent. I'm a rebel. Heck, I can even have more than one frothy adult beverage if I so choose without feeling guilty for potentially setting a bad example for The Diva. Now, it's not like I'm gonna go streaking or start a spontaneous game of shirts-and-skins freeze tag … but I could if I wanted to. Such quiet, lonely, rather uneventful evenings remind a lot of my days as a swingin' bachelor. Only back then I drank alone not out of choice but for lack of available female companions. But that's what the Internet's for – mail-order brides and dating services. Fortunately, my desperation didn't sink that deep. Not that there's anything wrong with finding Ms. Right in the classified section of “Soldier of Fortune” magazine, it just wasn't the way I wanted to go about finding true love. Plus I hear the shipping and handling can cost be brutal. Nope, that distinction fell to the machinations of a woman I'd met exactly once and whom My Lovely Wife now despises more than Boss Hogg hates them Duke Boys (and it has nothing to do with our current nuptials … hopefully). The reason for their falling out is complex, convoluted and utterly beside the point. The catch is that we met on a blind date. But the moment she walked into that tiny restaurant in Anniston, my life would never be the same. And it didn't hurt that she was totally hot. We hit it off immediately. It seemed a perfect match. She had a child, and I was still childish. We dated for a few months before she dumped me from a cell phone while I was in the Circuit City parking lot. She apparently was not a girl impressed by Sirus radio. But we stayed in touch. She fed me dinner, appalled that I existed on string cheese, Granola bars and domestic beer. And eventually I escaped from the dreaded Friend Zone to not only date but marry and eventually make a baby (in that order, thank you very much) with the love of my life. We bought a house in Jacksonville and watched her little 8-year-old transform into a beautifully, emotional tempest. We sold that house and moved to Columbus, Ga., where we continue to strive for happily every after. But right now, they're all gone and I have only a silent house, three sleeping dogs and a stack of unread books to keep me company. I was invited to hit the town with some buddies, but I politely declined, choosing instead to milk this night for all it's worth. Funny, I could be doing anything right now, and My Lovely Wife would never know. But instead of letting my personal freak flag fly, I'm sitting in the dark, writing about the people I wish were here. Maybe I'll just go on to bed and hope they decide to come home early. Brett Buckner is an award-winning former columnist for the Anniston Star. He lives in Columbus, Ga. with his wife, daughter and stepdaughter. His humor column appears regularly in The Post. Contract Brett at brett.buckner@yahoo.com. |