He Said, He Said, Hee Hee

And then, another round ordered, we get to the meat of things.

We obviously had formed opinions of each other over the years. We obviously formed those opinions based on the only available information we'd had at the time. We obviously have reason to suspect that the information might have been skewed by its sources.

We start in on the questions and answers. 

Me:  I can't believe he was such a card-carrying Dean Martin career drunk.  He told me you were the one hiding in the bedroom drinking Your life away.

Her:  No. Somebody had to stay sober. He was always drinking. All. Ways. He hid all of the bottles in the attic. 

Me: He told me that is where you stashed them when you locked him out of the bedroom. I am surprised I didn't see them when I went into through the secret door and found all of the cigarette butts when he said he wasn't smoking.

Her: He always smoked. We both did. I still do.  He just lied about it.

And to think I'd asked him right in the beginning about the smoking and he'd lied.  So that was what the mouthwash was for. Or maybe that was just vodka with food coloring. Doesn't matter. I found out about the smoking and the drinking eventually. Just not soon enough.

Her: Did he always think you were cheating on him? He always thought I was having an affair every time I took a business trip. 

Me: Yes!  One time he went through my wallet while I was in the shower and asked about all the business cards. Well not all. Only those with names of men on them. By the way, he told me you cheated on him and that he was devastated.  He used that as an excuse to behave the way he did...you know, all the paranoia. He actually thought I was going to get my teeth straightened simply so I could go out an find a better man. Like it would have been a matter of teeth to begin with! He'd have preferred that they stay crooked so I'd be less appealing, I guess.

Her:  What a joke. He cheated on me throughout our marriage.  It crushed me at first but then I thought, "What do I care? I am not in love with him.  Maybe it will keep him away from me."

Me:  He made you out to be a filthy rich miser who could barely part with a penny. He used to tell this one story about how you would fly into a rage because he forgot to use a coupon at the store. 

Her:  He forgot half the list, that was the problem!  He was drunk! He told me that you got along like two peas in a pod with his sister and mother. Everything was rosey. That I must have been the bitch in the equation.

Me: Did he also tell you that I regularly had words with Sheila and left her stammering, and that I called his mother a fat old hen?

We toasted. We were howling with laughter. How Sheila was such a loser. How Endorra was in denial.   How no one should have been surprised that J. was a drunken womanizer, his father was one, too.  We roared about the idiotic tattoo. She had probably funded it with a child support payment!'

Before we moved on the to next bar where the monied, Main Line Middle Aged set were sure to be enjoying a $12 glass of pinot, we decided that we really needed to do this a little more often. Maybe every 6 or 7 weeks. To stay connected, to help each other out. 

We walk to the bar. She has a cigarette and I go in to find us a seat. And to text a few friends that have been so kind that they can stop worrying about me. That I have indeed turned a corner. In fact, I am right as rain.