The things you do (or don’t do) for Love.

Tonight, I got the following text message from Wife:

“I want you, Wexler, and mayumi in your hottest swimwear at the Qt. From [redacted]”

Now, when I get invited to events by other people, even at the very last minute, I usually like to say yes. Because New York is a place to have random adventures, because I will likely have fun (esp. if accompanying my Wife), and because I want to keep being invited.

Wife followed up the text with a phone call informing me that we had been requested at a friend’s Bachelor party at Hotel Q, which has a swim-up bar. A swim-up bar?!?!?! How deeply fucking awesome!

Then I thought about it. Wearing a swimsuit in public and being ogled by men is perhaps not an appropriate activity for a married woman. Even if I brought my husband along. Dave clearly did not want to attend this party with a bunch of people he didn’t know for some dude he didn’t know. If I had gone alone, I might have been able to get my car from Brooklyn paid for (according to Wife, at least) and perhaps even a drink or two. But with Dave coming along, it’s not like anybody’d buy him drinks, even if he wore his “hottest swimwear,” so the evening reeked of a night of fun we cannot afford.

Story of our lives, that: fun that we cannot afford.

So, with obvious reluctance and some silent pouting, I just turned Laura and the party down:

“Thank[s] for the invite. But I think we’d better sit this one out. Being a good wife and saying no when I want to say yes.”

Sigh. The things you do and don’t do for love.