Chapter 9 Chapter Nine It's Useless to Be Angry, It's Reasonable to Be Bad

A few nights later, I was ringing the doorbell of Jess and Stretch's house, still moping about Roy's flaws. Why would a man prefer to watch a replay of two Croatians playing badminton that he has never heard of before communicating with his wife? In fact, I'm starting to wonder if Lowe fits into the "man" category. Perhaps, he should be regarded as a "warm-blooded" potted plant, after all, he would just sit there, waiting for someone to give him food and water! As soon as I walked into the brighter corridor, I realized that Jess, who came to open the door for me, was not wearing any clothes on his upper body.

Oh, so she wasn't naked, she had pink lip gloss with finely divided gold powder on one breast, and a nipple ornament with sequins and fringe on the other. My eyes immediately went to her face, not sure if it was a good sign or a bad one. Is she celebrating something?Or is this the last worship before the circumcision baby (whom we've already dubbed "Stewy")? Jess has long warned us that she may have some sudden and unreasonable demands in the next few months, please tolerate her as much as possible. I've started arming myself and I'm ready to be called to watch a hunk striptease anytime.

"The hospital told me it was just a cyst!" She laughed and did a little tap dance, her shiny nipple bobbing up and down. I hugged her tightly, gold dust was on my chin, and a tassel was eaten in my mouth. "Where's the international mysterious person in the house? Why isn't he here to celebrate with you?" "He went to Darfah, the capital of Sudan, to seek amnesty for someone as part of the 'wife avoidance scheme'," she said. "I may not have cancer, Kathy, but I'm still at the end of the chronic disease of marriage." She paused to pour me a glass of Kruger's premium rosé champagne stolen from her husband's treasured wine cellar. "As for the side effects of this chronic disease, two of them are self-hatred and alcoholism."

"Looks like these symptoms are contagious." I take a swig of my good wine. "Yes! We'd all be happy married women if we hadn't had a nasty husband." Jess suggested that every woman should put some broken glass in her husband's coffee; I, a little tipsy, replied that we should all get a divorce. Jess raised her beautifully sculpted eyebrows. "Divorce? No! I won't divorce." "But... I thought..." "Sweetheart, it takes superhuman strength to annul a marriage, and the time is never right. One moment it's Stuart's mother sick, the other moment it's Josh taking his A-level exams. Divorce will hurt Josh a lot, why bother?" Suffering a child born of love?" She paused to light a cigarette, blowing a smoke ring toward the ceiling. "Watching his divorced mother vomit while hugging the toilet and stealing light bulbs from public toilets to save money." That scene made Jess shrink her long legs in leather pants to hide under her body on the sofa. "Evil... I don't want it!"

"But I had a hard time getting used to the idea of ​​divorce," I muttered. "I mean, we've been sitting still for so long that we develop varicose veins and need medical elastic stockings psychologically." "No, what we need is an express car that clears obstacles. The fastest way is to find a lover. Stuart said that the bloody operating table made him numb, and I was numb too. It was caused by the bed in my bedroom. I Going to take his advice and go out and have some affairs and make myself feel alive again." "Revenge sex?" "almost."

"Ouch! Don't you feel guilty? I feel guilty about everything, and I know one day they'll find out that I stole the peanut butter from the second-grade teacher's office and my life as a fugitive can be over. ’ I took her cigarette and extinguished it with a dip in her glass of champagne. "I fully believe that women's sex creates guilt in the same way that smoking causes lung cancer." Jess smiled bitterly, with bright bridge colored lipstick to bluff her mouth. "My husband cheated on me and slept with anything that could walk and now I'm going to start seducing poolside boys as revenge. Oh my god! Am I more than he is? I hope one day I'll be overwhelmed with guilt What!" she concluded grimly, throwing on a cardigan sweater.

I looked at my friend in surprise. After throwing her moral sense out of the blue, her appearance seemed to be alive! Dressed in black, she is lazily nestled on the milky white leather sofa, like a cute comma, anyone who passes by will look back and be deeply fascinated by it. "The best thing about being a woman..." She paused to light another cigarette. "Don't you need to be a man?" I guessed wildly. "It's that she'll outlive her spouse and spend his hard-earned money like hell. So, I'm not going to get a divorce, but I'm going to start cooking food for Stooges with twice as much oil, and again I don't want to suck the fat off the bacon for him, I'm going to raise him into a stout goose for foie gras. After he's dissected, I'm going to buy a 'home autopsy set', Check for yourself whether that rotten man has a heart. But, before he dies and is buried, you have to cover for me those adulterous activities that he must not know about!"

"Wow! Great, dream come true, I've been quite the undercover intelligence agent." I squirm. "But you really think cheating will solve the problem?" "Maybe not, sweetheart, but at least it will make you forget about that problem." "what is the problem?" "How could I be stupid enough to marry that pig?" As if to emphasize the point, the phone rang loudly at this moment. "No, he's not home. But, I beg you to infect him with an STD, okay?" Jess said in a drunken voice and hung up. "His patient, that Specialist Sylvia Plath. See? They've been so above board that they've called home for him!" Tears welled up in her gold-green eyes. "It's really hard not to be loved, Kathy, I don't want to feel like dying again. Yes!" She pulled herself together. "I'm going to be a make-up artist for a funeral home. I can't bring my marriage back to life. At least I have to make it look good."

"This is the so-called futility of being angry, and it is reasonable to become bad. You want to take it as a new life goal? But, where do you want to find this perverted lover as an emergency?" Jess poured champagne out of new glasses. "I don't know either, Internet chat rooms, dating agencies, Internet advertisements..." "And then fell into the hands of a serial killer?" "You have a point," she laughed nervously. "That's bloody! But continue to be a sexless, breast cancer-prone woman?" Playing around with the fringe of her bodice pointedly, it seemed her mammogram had woken her up like an apocalyptic light from Mother Nature.

"Sweetheart, the most difficult thing about middle age is that we can learn from it and not just grow old in vain." She showed a longing expression, "I'm going to go online tonight to see what I can catch." Hannah nearly drowned when I told her a few days later that Jess had found a good candidate for a lover. We were doing our regular aqua aerobics class, and everyone was bouncing around the pool to the music. After the lifeguard brought Hannah back to life with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and two streams of water came out of her nostrils, my well-bred friend gave the steroid-treated, bear-like rescuer a look and raised his eyebrows. higher than the hairline.

"The clitoris is the least intelligent part of a woman's body, why does Jess use it to think?" "Jess says all women secretly want to have sex." "Humph! In comparison, I would rather choose heroin, which is safer. What you two should do is to recreate your passion. I saw a certain sexology guru on TV saying that couples should use the afternoon , a lot of 'community' in the bedroom." "Afternoon? Are you crazy? Where am I going to keep the child? Locked under the sink with the designated substances in the kitchen?" However, the word "friendship" is full of French melodious tones, but it's a pity that my whole body follows In France, the only thing that matters is that they don't shave their armpits in winter. Hannah interrogated me from a deck chair by the pool: "Where did she know this lover?" "Internet chat room," I stammered. "How romantic! People used to say, where do we go next? Your house or my house? Now it's your home page or my home page? So we're talking about a complete stranger?" "Yes, it's just that I doubt that he can be called perfect. He said his hobby is 'watching the breath'. Who knows what that is? They also discussed constellations!" Hannah frowned, her small face full of opinions. “There are women who like to bring a spare pair of panties, put on lipstick, go to the bar to see what God will send Cupid on her lap, and then she will go home with him and have a crazy night of sex... Such women later Most just disappear without a trace.” "Jess says his emails are very sweet and polite." "Hmph! What kind of guarantee is that? She found the most polite mental patient in London? Great!" "That's why she asked me to take her on a date. As the saying goes: be careful and sail forever." The pool is now in junior classes, and the parents are arguing with the kids, so Hannah starts talking again as we dodge the OK bandages and zit germs and get into the attached shower. Her frothy head stretched out from the other compartment like a giraffe. "She's out of her mind for saying that. Totally insane. We've got to stop her, Kathy." us?These two words have quickly become my most hated words. How can we stop it?I thought about it in my heart, but my mouth said: "Of course." In fact, I'd rather lick the lid that covers the salad bar to sneeze from diners. "So, what the hell are you talking about? You're saying I should give up sex?" Sunday mornings were our energy hikes, this time climbing the Hamp Sports Park on Capitol Hill, and Hannah made it clear to Jess when we were halfway there and everyone was out of breath. The woods form a Chinese-style freehand calligraphy, the whole city lies farther away, and the smoky air of the London Basin is like a thick soup that can be scooped up with a spoon. "Having sex three times a week will burn about 7,500 calories a year, which is equivalent to jogging 75 miles." Jess said enthusiastically. "Having sex with a guy I met online is about as fun as jogging seventy-five miles!" Hannah retorted.She was on all fours, doing push-ups in a focused, rhythmic way. "A man? Did I say it was a man?" Jess smiled arrogantly like a queen. "He's only twenty-two!" Hannah jumped up from the ground. "My God! What if he rapes you? Or beats you? Or kills you?" "Men want to destroy a woman no longer need such inefficient methods, marrying her is the fastest way!" Jess said plaintively. "What's more, according to the statistics, when women are killed, the murderer is mostly her husband, not a stranger. He sent me a photo of two footballs stuffed into his upper arm like stockings." I was pushing the bench to do push-ups, but I stopped and lay down on the green grass full of daffodils. "Jess, I think we're not old enough to listen to hip-hop and reggae." Jess glanced at us weakly, pulled himself together and said, "Another advantage of being a woman is that a man 'our age' has to spend money to buy a woman, but a woman 'our age' doesn't have to spend money." Money buys sex." She lifted one leg up on the bench and bent over to do stretches. "We just need to find a boy." "Be a little boy, you have to pay for everything, dinner, theater tickets, vacation..." I looked at the intertwined trees and said in a relaxed tone deliberately, "It's actually cheaper to spend money on sex!" No matter how we took the bread knife and sliced ​​Jess' fantasies apart, she remained unmoved, and Hannah urged me to keep trying with her eyes. "Besides, you really want to go to those comedy bars again?" I said again. "Endure him nagging about environmental issues? As long as he picks up hairspray and sprays it, he will lecture you endlessly about holes in the ozone layer?" "Oh, honey, I'm not going to talk to him at all." After saying this, Jie Si only waved to us lively, and then jumped down the mountain. "You can't help her, do you hear me clearly?" Hannah gave me this order, and chased me with a look of fury. clear!As clear as the view from Capitol Hill! And so, one day at the end of March, a forty-three-year-old housewife and mother of a boy, Jesmy Jardin, left her grassy high-end residence in Hamp Heights and entered her wealthy family The RV drove to the dilapidated Southwark district. Her husband thought she was going out to see a movie, but she passed Swiss Cottage Studios without looking back, and drove on, across the river, until she reached a row of row houses that looked dilapidated, where she pulled over and tidied up. Brushing my hair, straightening the seamline behind my elasticated hip socks, I slid toward a door with peeling paint. It was her first date in twenty years, and her first time with a man whose tongue could lick her eyebrows—her pretty face was so flaunted in a previous email. The reason I know this in detail is that I was also in the car, and fully armed—capsicum spray in one hand and the phone number of the local police station in the other. South of the Thames, North Londoners equate to savagery, and we think of Southwark as the local industry of shooting knees and drug dealing. The cockroach here is so big you can hear it running across the ground with its giant furry feet! I waited in the car for an hour, two hours... Then, a thought flashed through my mind - I've been taking care of Jess so long that I should see a psychiatrist! Finally, after four crossword puzzles, three Mozart CDs, and two packets of chocolate chip cookies, Jess staggered onto the street.Her clothes are no longer so neat, her eyes are crazy, and her hair is crazy, like a "before trim" textbook in a hair magazine. "Are you okay?" I jumped out of the car, ready to help her clean up. "Should I call the police?" "Just to tell them I invented a new game—put your tongue on your clitoris?" She suddenly seemed to be on the audition scene of "Riverdance", jumping around. "Whoa! Oh my! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" "Is it really that good? How about his teeth? Is the ass nice?" I said in a hurry. "Do you feel guilty? Are you dying of guilt?" "Guilty? I'm so happy I'm almost going to heaven!" she said joyfully. I thought the uneasy expression turned out to be pure smugness. This woman seemed to have just finished bungee jumping, full of a sense of accomplishment after completing the exciting activity. "Holy shit! All the shit I've been taught at missionary schools all these years, the so-called 'sin of neglect' is actually letting something sinful pass you by without the guts to do it! Do you know that? At a fundraising dinner, George, Clooney was sitting next to me, and he asked for my phone number!" "Yeah! Maybe that's why he hasn't married yet," I said sarcastically. "Men are like books, there are too many to count, but so little time!" Jie Si smiled pointedly. "Listen, if God didn't want us to cheat, He wouldn't have invented sexy lingerie." She pulled up her garter belt and let it snap back onto her leg with a crisp sound. "Women are the new men! Progesterone is the new testosterone!" She pumped her fist into the air. "Yeah! Shit is still the same shit." "Hey!" she began to defend herself. "I know it's not constructive at all, but life isn't perfect, is it? You'll cover for me tonight! If Stretcher asks..." "I don't know, Jess, I don't like to lie. I..." "If you don't help me," she grabbed my arm with startling malice. "I'm going to be a madwoman with a bra to incubate abandoned eggs." "Ah...you say that every time!" I started the engine, kicked off my shoes, and stepped hard on the gas pedal with my stockinged foot. "Did you know? He has a roommate, a music student, who's so cute. We could go on a double date!" she exclaims excitedly as we drive through the inky Thames. "Student? Are you mistaken? I'm forty-four years old. I'm old enough to put the doctor's number on speed dial. Besides, I'm a married woman." "Do you know? The reason we got married was just to enjoy the excitement of extramarital affairs, otherwise, life would be too boring! Well, it's so boring that we have to get married!" Jie Si laughed unhappily. For a moment, I was really moved by her crooked reasoning. We unhappy wives are like battery hens, hatching eggs and caring for chicks like machines in rows of coops. At the same time, we can only watch the roosters of each family walk proudly around on the lawn that looks exactly the same and is neatly cut. Such vistas are suffocating, and I want free space too!I want to wander away from home too!Have fun on the grass...or get shoved over the dumpster by Russell Crowe. "Hannah said I should rekindle the passion with Roy, you know, use the afternoon 'bonding' or something..." "Ha! Once the enthusiasm is extinguished, it is impossible to rekindle it. I am a chef, and I know very well that a soufflé cannot be fermented twice. Besides, life is like cooking. It is fun and delicious to leave aside the recipe and be creative. We women have to get in touch with the witch inside and let her out!" "You really want to see him again?" "My God! Of course it's true!" Jess smiled and hummed. "Some mistakes are so much fun that it's a shame to make them just once. So, don't waste your energy trying to rekindle some enthusiasm, okay?" "Okay!" I remembered the way Roy looked at me when we first got married. Of course, he only showed that expression now when he looked at the animals. Maybe I should get his attention by getting myself some lice or rotten feet. We were so happy during the first six years of our marriage! Then the child came, and he drew a line with me. That's the problem, women are in love day and night, and love makes the pizza of life beautiful and delicious. For men, however, love is just one slice of their life's pizza, with work, friends, and sports making up the other slices. But Jess had a point too, and rekindling enthusiasm was an absurd idea.No matter how hard I try, it's impossible to get back on my husband's menu...isn't it?

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