Let me explain why..
My hubby, as ya'll know, is a divorced man with a past that included a home in a suburban neighborhood with suburban friends, and suburban activities. Which included, I found out, an annual pool party at, you guessed it, a suburban home with suburban folks.
For a newly engaged woman, who was anything but suburban, meeting my (then) fiances friends, was beyond uncomfortable.These people not only knew the ex, they planned this annual shindig with her and the man that was to become my hubby.
Sure, there was food and liquor 'a plenty. But wanting to stay in control as much as possible, my glass was usually filled with water instead of wine.
I tried, but I had nothing to talk about with these folks.
I don't have kids. I didn't have plans to refinish my bathroom; and I definitely felt odd with the "keeping-up-with-the-Joneses" mentality that abound at this annual affair.
This, on top of more than 50 people at any given time yelling at the more than 20 kids.
It was painful.
The same scene was repeated the year after. Then we married...
Still on our honeymoon high, the hubby, Chatito and me, traveled to Monterrey Bay and San Francisco. It was pure bliss.
I was hoping that every year after that we would continue on this new tradition. But then, the friends got involved.
These amazing friends, instead of encouraging my hubby to continue to take long weekends away with his new wife (me), gave him a guilt trip for not being at this annual affair.
My hubby then got on this suburban man thing and the annual pilgrimage to the suburban hell hole continued.
As a dutiful wife I tagged along. I tried to hold adult conversations with woman that couldn't talk about anything more than PTA meetings or their latest home acquisition.
I was bored and burning up (did I mention that the average temperate at these parties was 99 degrees in the shade?)
To make matters worse (yes, they got worse), my hubby forced his friends on me...I planned lunches, inviting them to our gatherings, and smiled when they complained, quite publicly, that my hubby's new life was different.
But I tried. I really did...
Until they got nosier than usual.
I couldn't bare to loose any more precious time. Even if liquor was involved,
I could no longer keep a straight face as they tried, yet again, to be part of our marriage.
So this year I put my foot down.
"They are your friends," I explained to my hubby as I begged, pleaded, and eventually raised my voice to tell him what I have been hinting at for years: 'I am miserable and not a good wife when I am around your friends."
The bad news is, it did turn into an argument. The good news is, I won.
Or rather, we won.
He spent time with his friends, and I wasn't there to witness the annual display of suburban excess and gluttony.
So while we might not be going to San Francisco or anywhere fun on future memorial days, we started a new tradition that will keep our marriage happy: We are keeping his friends out of our marriage.
