What women don’t understand about men

Nick is standing watching Justine (his wife) and Lisa (his ex, with whom he is secretly sleeping) have a bit of a chat. I'd guess his pulse is around the 230bpm mark.
  
  


Nick is standing watching Justine (his wife) and Lisa (his ex, with whom he is secretly sleeping) have a bit of a chat. I'd guess his pulse is around the 230bpm mark.

Lisa is recounting this tale to me over the phone, by the way. This puts me in quite a difficult position. Not simply because - as I've previously mentioned - I don't like using the telephone as any-thing other than a business tool. It's also because my wife, Jen, is sitting within "pretending not to listen but she's fooling no one" distance of me. I don't mind her listening to what I'm saying to Lisa, of course; it's just really disconcerting when she tries to affect that she isn't. She becomes all Smiley Wife - all artlessly bouncy and "Cup of tea?" miming casual. Jen being Jen: fine. Jen being Doris Day: scary as hell.

Anyway, enough of my problems...

Back in Lisa's story, things are moving along nicely. Justine is using "we" a lot to emphasise the oneness of her-and-Nick. Lisa is happily thinking that Justine has put on a bit of weight. Nick, I assume, is trying to keep his knees from buckling.

"We ought to get together," says Justine. "Sometime," she adds, implicitly to clarify that this means, perhaps, sometime in May 2019.

"Yes, we really should." Lisa lies and nods. "Maybe we could go out for a drink one of these evenings?"

"That'd be great, wouldn't it, Nick?" Justine replies. Nick makes a sort of squeaky noise. "Though," Justine continues, "it'd be strictly orange juice for me." Smiling, she strokes her stomach.

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