I didn’t know how to do it! I had this feeling of guilt and it was bothering me for a while and I knew the only way to be set free was to tell the truth. The weight on my shoulders was immense and got so heavy that I could’t walk up straight. I couldn’t make eye contact and I couldn’t have a normal conversation without the thought of my “sin” crossing my mind. Something had to be done, so I send an sms to the missus, “We have to talk”…
My wife must have known something was up because she immediately called me wanting to know what was going on. I just said what I always say, “can’t talk now, I’m in a meeting”. After she hung up I continued scrolling through the web, my hungry eyes scanning for anything to indulge my craving with. I was dreading the talk when I got home and needed something to take my mind off the issue at hand.
On my way home I decided to make a quick stop at the local watering hole for some Dutch Courage. I’ve always struggled to talk to women, especially the hot blond ones and if they had “nice” cleavage I would develop a semi stutter and completely crumble under the pressure. I would look all crooked eyed as I tried to keep eye contact while I stuttered and slurred my way to “Hi, I are Blik-k-k-k-ies”! After a few beers though the cross eyed chameleon would change “colour” into a “bloukop koggelmander” full off bravado and charm.
With age, not maturity (don’t think that one will come by soon) communication with the fairer sex became a little easier. However with the talk I was about to have I knew that a couple of beers wouldn’t cut it, so I ordered some of the black poison. “Tripple Klippies and Coke” I said to the barman, gesturing with three horizontal fingers on my right hand just in case he doubted his hearing. I struggled through the first few sips but within a minute I raised my hand for another. I was thirsty and in ‘n hurry!
As I approached the driveway of our home I contemplated going back to the bar. I wasn’t ready for reality and when I thought of what had to be said it made me sick to my stomach. How was I going to confess? I parked my car and just sat in it for a while, listening to the last lyrics of some sad song. Then I dragged myself out of the car and slowly strolled to the front door. With a shiver in my spine and a shake in my hand I pushed the the key into the keyhole. I thought of turning around and running away before its too late.
Somehow I got the courage and when I opened the door my wife was already waiting. She just sat there in all her glory on the couch, her eyes swollen red and ready to burst into tears. I thought of happier times when talking to one another was still easy. When laughs and smiles and a pinch on the bum was the fashion. Then I wished I had rather stayed at the bar as reality pulled me down. But it was too late now and the beans was about to get spilled and it wasn’t going to be pretty!
A little girly giggle from myself broke the tension for a second. Not that the situation was funny, not at all. It was just that I was so nervous that my body was reacting in ways that not even I can explain. I fell onto the couch next to my wife and opened my mouth to speak but no words would come out. It was almost as if my mouth was trying to protect my mind from boiling over. I had a few drinks but not enough to make me speechless and had to really concentrate before the words slowly started flowing from my mouth.
I started with, “Its not you” and before I could say “its me”, my wife attacked with “is dit daai bitch met die groot tiete”? I responded with a definite, “NO”! But I couldn’t help to wonder what “bitch” she was talking about. So I asked, “what bitch”? “Daai Delilla van die Strand wat by die gym spin klasse gee, ek sien hoe sy vir jou kyk”! My wife continued without missing a beat, “of is dit Susara, sys ook altyd bo-oor jou as ons braai, ek gaan haar bliksem”!
“No, No, No” I responded. Then I assured her that it had nothing to do with “Susara” or the “Spin Bitch” and that it was something else. Then she said, “Is jy gay, jy weet jy kan enige iets met my deel, dit verduidelik baie, jy huil darem hopeloos te maklik as ons The Notebook kyk”! My wife was totally freaking out and saying the most ridiculous things. I said “NO, you should know that I’m NOT gay! “Ja maar wat van Kurt, hy fake dit al vir jare” she responded! “Kak man Kurt is straight” I countered! Strangely I found myself batting for Kurt, not helping my own cause and supporting my wife’s theory. The conversation digressed and I had to get it back on track before my courage ran dry.
“I’m not gay, I bought a new fishing rod, and a new reel… I am not gay”, I shouted! My wife’s face turned into a huge question mark. With narrowed eyes and a frown on her forehead she said, “Wat”? To this day I don’t know what caused this look, whether it was my my sexual orientation or my confession, but I’m quietly hoping it was the latter.
“Wat”? She asked again in disbelief and disappointment. Then she blinked and two tears ran down her cheeks. She got up from the couch and as she walked away said, “ek kort nuwe skoene…” she paused and nodded, “nuwe skoene… en ‘n handsak”. I knew what had to be done.
Whether it was tears of joy or tears of relief I don’t know, but I got to keep the rod and the reel. It ended up costing me more than double but it’s my favourite setup and I use it all time. O, and next time that spin chick gives me a look, I’m looking back and I’m smiling!
2 thoughts on “The confession”
A wonderful story – your build-up to the climax is delightful 🙂