The long, dark honeymoon

Photo by Hudin

I despise the weak, shriveled men who enable women such as this. Enthralled at the prospect of leaving his wife and daughters for the chance to be with a woman in her late 40’s who is attempting to look like she’s in her early 30’s, he took her on their honeymoon to Italy and then Châteauneuf-du-Pape which is where I had the chance to catch up with them. I had little choice given that they were having a loud, drunken fight when having lunch at La Mère Germaine last week.

As she beat him in to his place as the doughy guy you see carrying piles of bags behind atrocious women who enjoy multi-day shopping outings, she calmed down. He continued to shrivel in to an insignificant speck in the restaurant while a look of I’ve Made a Huge Mistake was broadcast from his face. She said that she “loved him” he said he “loved her” as well, but it was with such a tone as to show it dawned upon him that the pair of tits he truly loved were actually attached to a vulgar life support system that was going to embarrass him in public any chance it got lest he step out of line.

They finished and left shortly after I learned that his daughters hated her more than she hated them and she was of the opinion they should just “move to France”. The server arrived with my bill and we had been speaking in French this whole time (more like fumbling in French for me) as I didn’t want this couple to know we shared common passports given that this car crash of a honeymoon was just too captivating to not observe and as I was dining solo, it was a source of no end of entertainment in watching this moron get exactly and precisely what he deserved for ditching his family.

The server and I watched them stumble out of the bathrooms and we both glanced at each other with the same knowing look of coming upon a goat that has managed to somehow hang itself. In succinct French, he simply stated, “La femme est spéciale” before going off to get my change.