Dave’s wife has hula practice every day this week, in preparation for the big show on Saturday night. It’s crunch time, and they are working very hard. She doesn’t get home until after midnight.

Well, Dave gets off work around 4pm. He’s got nothing to do, and doesn’t want to sit at home by himself, so he asked me if I wanted to go play golf.

At around 6:30pm we’re finishing up our round when his wife calls. I can hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but not the whole thing. When Dave hangs up the phone he’s got a pained look upon his face.

He explains what happened. Their conversation sorta went like this:

Dave’s wife: What time will you be home?

Dave: About 9pm.

Dave’s wife: Why so late?

Dave: Well, what’s the hurry? I mean, you’re not going to be home until after midnight….

Dave’s wife: I’m going to call you at home at 8:30pm, you better be there. It doesn’t take you 2 and half hours to get home. Don’t go to the bar when you finish golf, don’t drink a beer, go straight home.

What’s going on here? I don’t get it. Why can’t Dave hang out with me? I mean, it would be different if she was at home waiting for him. But she’s not, she’s at practice, and she won’t be home until after midnight. What, she wants Dave to sit at home by himself? And why can’t he have a beer?

That’s fucking bullshit. That crap would NEVER fly with me. I don’t care who you are, NOBODY tells me what to do.

Dave and I spent a few minutes trying to figure out what her reasoning behind the whole thing was. I can’t figure it out. Why did she order Dave to go home and wait 3 hours for her to come home?

“Marriage is a prison.” – Dave Finn, et al