Thursdays is Guy's Night Out. Some people call it Animal's Night Out, and for good reasons. It's the day of the week that I leave Mae at home to embark on a night of drunkenness and debauchery with the boys. Muahhahhahah!!!
Okay. It's a lot less sordid than I make it sound. In fact, it's pretty sanitised. Just a dinner, usually a large one, and drinks after. Of course, admittedly, Thursdays also come with a generous amount of testosterone-laden fantasies of picking up chicks, or having chicks pick us up. But it never happens. We are, after all faithfully married. *ahem* Besides, we're just too chicken to pick up chicks - and this is even before we got married. On top of that, I suspect we're not exactly pick-up material. Heh!
Last Thursday, I was feeling kind of lazy and I almost cancelled. Then my buddy Cokehead set me straight, "You better savour the moment. This will be the last few weeks you join us for a very long time!"
As that piece of info hit slowly home, strains of REM play in my head. "It's the end of the world as we know it..."
For the next half year, Thursday nights, like every other night will be unconditionally dedicated to Baby. All the action I'm gonna get will be confined to feeding, burping and cleaning shit. Mae's gonna kill me if I even consider going out. And if I even dare to sneak out, heck, who knows what kind of propaganda she'll be feeding Baby. Hmph. Looks like I'm gonna be homebound for awhile.
It's the end of the world as I know it. And yet, as one world ends, a great new one begins.
I can't wait.