The Story of bar hopping

*Ben had a knack for just not coming home at night. This is before iPhones. Before you could "track your friends". These were Blackberry days. He worked downtown and a lot of his line of work would be to wine and dine. Funny I was never invited to these events.

One night we were supposed to actually have dinner at home. Together. A rarity.

5:30 came. Then 6. So I called. No answer. 

7 came. 8 o'clock passed. No calls. No answers.

It MAKES YOU CRAZY. They warned me. There were bets on how long the marriage would last. 

We lived almost to Nolensville. I was tired of being the waiting wife that night in particular. A lot of nights when he did come home, I'd be lying there just waiting into the early morning hours. When I heard the garage door, I'd turn out any lights and get still as a mouse. I didn't want him to know I'd been waiting. Pathetic he'd say.

So this one night in particular I was determined to find *Ben. I went alone on a Friday night downtown Nashville to at least 7-8 bars. All these happy, dancing, laughing people. Couples. Friends. They had no idea. I'd search every room. I probably looked like a crazy woman. Crying. Just desperate.

I never did find him that night. He never came home either. One of many. So so many. Not counting the nights he was sleeping in a jail cell. But that's for another story.