Poker Night - The Truth Shall Set You Free

I feel as if a an unjustice has been made; a little lie, the sin of omission has been perpetrated on this site. My dear Husband, while one of the funniest people I know, has taken some poetic license on a infamous night in our relationship - Poker Night.
I know its a ritual of men -has been and always will be. But married men - you have a different set of standards. And you dads, well let's not get into that here. I understand the bonding of drinking, cursing, spitting and other manly things that occur on these nights, as well as the importance in keeping these male relationships up-to-date. Its no secert that the women are usually in charge of the social calendar and very rarely does poker night come up on our agendas.
However, in the 12 years I have been with my husband, I have yet to see a poker night end well for all involved. We are all a part of a (rather twisted) circle of friends who make up the majority of our social engagements and therefore we all know who got into trouble at home for what digression. And get in trouble they do. I have to say we are a progressive group overall and have weathered bachelor parties, trips to Vegas and other assorted male debauchery with aplomb. But these guys always seem to fuck up poker night.
It seems innocent, but ends up with wives calling emergency rooms across North Texas to see why their beloved is 4 hours late getting home. With no phone call. These college-educated men (well, some went to A&M, but for the purposes here, let's go ahead and call that a "college") seem to revert back to their evolutionary counterparts and lose all sense of decency.
One such night, when Husband got home 3 hours later than planned, he had the nerve to tell me that not only was the phone at the house they were at broken, but none of the 9 other guys their had functional cell phones. To give him credit, he barely had the words out of his mouth before retracting his statement and admitting this pitiful lie. He knew he was in trouble and was wary of making it worse. But its not just him - they ALL were working stories like this at home, trying desperately not to sleep on the couch, much less be able to play poker again. Time after time - no calls, stumbling into the house, breaking glass, bumping the back wall of the garage with the car, laughing quietly enough to wake neighbors six houses down - all to find a crying-with-what-was-fear-now-is-anger tears-filled wife in the kitchen. In a robe, planning for widowhood, clutching wedding photos.
So Poker Night has been mostly disbanded, on-hold until they get new wives, or we get a fucking phone call.

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