Yesterday was such a great day. My lovely flattie and I went to the Royal Show (something I haven't done since I was a kid) and had an awesome time.
[Expect a post on the number of bogans with more than 4 children as well as the confirmation that we really are the fattest nation on earth in the coming days. Both those facts were rammed home walking around the showgrounds yesterday. Astonishing.]
Then last night we went to one of my favourite Melbourne bars for a catch up with my lovely friend Kitty Kat who was visiting from Sydders.
Kitty Kat and I haven't seen each other since January, so it was lovely to catch up and discuss potential outfits for Britney's wedding which is less than a month away. The wedding discussion eventually branched out away from frock and shoes and on to fellow guests and who we'd like to be seated with at the reception. We both would prefer to be sat next to a hot, eligible bachelor, but I highly doubt whether there will be any such creatures there. We were both emphatic however that there was one person we did NOT want to be seated next to; thankfully we've now discovered he's not been invited.
This man is the husband of a woman who used to be a very good friend of ours. We'll call her Kate, because (a) that's her name; (b) she will probably never read this blog; and (c) even if she does, I will happily stand by every statement I make. Kate used to be a very close friend of mine, the bride's and Kitty Kat's. I say used to, because none of really have any contact with her anymore, purely because of her husband.
What's wrong with the man? Where do I begin?
The first time I met him was about a week after I'd graduated from drama school. I was full of that 'just-graduated-the-world-is-my-oyster' excitement and was having dinner at Kitty Kat's sister's house. Kate brought Rob (yes, that's his real name too) along to meet us. We were introduced and Kate mentioned in the introduction that I'd just graduated from drama school and wasn't that exciting. Rob's first ever comment to me was not, "congratulations" or "nice to meet you" or "good luck with that". No, it was:
"You'll never make it as an actress"
Well, you can imagine my reaction. I gave him one of my best withering looks, retorted with "how would you know, you've only just met me" and flounced off into the kitchen to pour myself another glass of wine.
But that's not the only reason I dislike the man.
Let me give you a little more background.
Kate was one of the most inspirational, successful women I knew. She had a great job in HR, earned really good money, owned her own apartment on the North Shore, had travelled the world, was fun to party with, attractive, bubbly, great with advice, a fabulous cook, spent weekends sailing on the harbour and by the age of 35 had everything you could possibly want except a husband and children.
Then she met Rob. He was in his 40s, working a dead end casual job, studying for a degree which had so far taken him 10+ years to even get halfway through and (to get a little Jane Austen on you), he had little or no prospects. Honestly don't know what she saw in him. He wasn't even attractive. Unless you like the overweight, unkempt slobby types. But Kate liked him. And started dating him. And a few weeks into their relationship, she fell pregnant.
Which is where it all started to go pear shaped.
Now...
Had she decided that she would keep the baby but ditch him for being a bit of a no-hoper then she would have had our full backing. The girls (and the guys) in our little gang were all willing to pitch in and help out with babysitting, shopping, cleaning, moral support, whatever she needed.
But she decided to stay with him. So we tried to be supportive. We tried to mask our feelings for this neanderthal of a man, who had by this time lost his casual job, had stopped studying and was living off her. We tried. We really did. I put all those years of drama school to the test and acted my little socks off pretending to get along with the man.
But just before the baby was born, they got married. At the registry office. Without telling us. In fact she didn't tell us until a good two or three months after the event and only as an off-the-cuff remark at a lunch we were having at someone's house.
Which was quite upsetting. Firstly because she didn't tell us (thereby giving us an opportunity to talk her out of it) and secondly because she'd married a man who was JUST NOT WORTHY.
This is a man who decided that when Kate was in labour, he'd get sick. So sick that he'd be in a hospital bed next to her and unable to support her through the birth of their child. I'm sorry but if that was my husband, I would be grabbing the nearest sharp object and threatening him with castration if he didn't step up to the plate and be a man and HOLD MY BLOODY HAND WHILE I'M GIVING BIRTH TO YOUR CHILD YOU PILLOCK. But Kate excused him.
The they ended up moving to the country, because he had a chance of a job there. So they sold the flat, Kate gave up her great HR job, they moved to the back of beyond, bought a house, and guess what? He lost the job. Unemployed again. So she had to find a job to support them.
And then she got pregnant again.
He was at home, not working, so you'd think he would've looked after the house and the kids. But no. That wasn't his thing. She had to do all that. F*** only knows what he did all day, but it certainly wasn't making a worthy contribution to the world or his family.
But there was always an excuse for him. He wasn't well, the job wasn't really what it was made out to be, blah blah blah. Excuses.
The last time I saw Kate was a couple of years ago when we had a big girls' Sunday lunch at posh restaurant. All the married-with-kids girls left their babies with the husbands (some of whom got together with all the kids for a 'the-girls-are-out-so-let's-stick-the-kids-in-the-backyard-and-we'll-watch-the-footy' afternoon) and it was going to be our chance to catch up without having any little people interrupting our champagne consumption and grown-up conversation.
Kate even came up from the country for the weekend for it.
But Rob decided about half an hour before lunch that he didn't want to watch the kids, as was planned. He wanted to go sailing. So she had to bring them along.
Now, they weren't bad kids. They weren't good, but they were kids. Painful little toddlers. They didn't want to be at a posh restaurant having to behave anymore than we (or the wait staff) wanted them there.
But Kate bowed to Rob's needs yet again and gave in. And put a dampener on an otherwise lovely afternoon.
ANYWAY...
That's a lot of background. I'll forgive you if you skipped through it.
The crux of the topic is, that when Kitty Kat and I were discussing our mutual dislike of Rob last night and remarking on what a shame it was that Kate had chosen this ape and kept making excuses for his behaviour, Kitty Kat told me something which resonated quite sharply with me.
She said that she'd once confronted Kate about how Rob had offended her by asking inappropriate questions about why she was still single, and that Kate had sighed and said "I know. He's awful. But I've learned to love him".
LEARNED TO LOVE HIM.
WTF????
Surely that's no basis for marriage.
Surely you should love someone BEFORE you marry them. Unless you're of a culture where arranged marriages are still the norm, of course.
A successful, independent woman should love a man before she marries him. Not have to learn to love him. And she should never just settle for someone because she's getting to an age where she feels that if she doesn't do it now, she might miss out on the whole marriage and kids experience.
Or am I just being idealistic and naïve?
I don't know, I just think that agreeing to marry someone you don't love in the hope that you will one day learn to love them is not only sad and wrong, but a terrible example to set for your children.
Call me crazy, but I have vowed I will never get married unless I am head over heels in love with the man. I'd much rather be single, happy and in control of my own destiny than be married to someone who didn't add to my life (which I reckon is a pretty damn good one) and instead sucked all the joy out of it.
And if I never meet that person and never get married and never have kids then so be it. There's nothing wrong with being single and I'm a bit over people who act like something's missing in my life because I'm not with a man. I have freedom. And choice. And I can sleep in if I want without having to negotiate a deal on who will get up with the kids at 6am.
But if I meet the right man and we decide to get married then, yes. I'll do it. But only if I love him.
At least none of us will have to put up with Rob at the wedding. But it's a real shame Kate won't be there because she really was good fun at a party.
And its even more of a shame that we've lost her as a friend because she made a poor choice for a husband.
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