While wolfing down gigantic chunks of perfectly charred beef on Saturday afternoon, I overhead a particularly foul-looking woman use her shrill, piercing voice to scream the following into her cell phone, after casually sipping a fishbowl margarita for twenty or so minutes: “Yes, Matt, I KNOW it’s Saturday. I KNOW it’s the day you play poker in that crappy garage while downing beers with those stupid assholes. But I don’t really give two shits, because I’m your WIFE….And she – YOUR WIFE – is having an emotional CRISIS here!” There followed a lengthy pause, after which time the woman spoke to him in an entirely different, sweeter, softer tone of voice. “Ok, then, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll see you at home in a few minutes.” As she ended the call and placed the phone in her purse, the grin that spread across her face was equal parts smug, malicious and utterly victorious. She proceeded to wash down a family-sized plate of fully loaded nachos with the remainder of her margarita, then engaged in an extended, purely inane conversation with her server. Shortly thereafter she paid the bill and casually sauntered off. Beer in hand, I began to reflect on what I’d just witnessed. In the process, I found myself feeling sorry for Matt. I pictured a shifty, nervous, insecure, timid little man who is psychologically incapable of dealing with his wife’s deep-seated emotional psychosis. I imagined the raised eyebrows and embarrassed, red-faced glances of his quietly sympathetic poker buddies. I visualized him, drooping with defeat. “Sorry, guys, I have to go.” Nods all around. Silence in the smoke-filled garage. The slow walk to his car. A glance in the rear view mirror while driving home reveals a look of painful resignation. His face is pale, weary, helpless. A robotic march into the house, where he’ll be subjected to a wholly fabricated tale of woe from the odious beast who refuses to let him rest until he feels impotent, inadequate, and sorrowful by virtue of his inability to keep her happy. In the end, his virtually incalculable misery will swirl through his mind as he solemnly considers the horrid nature of his existence while wrapped tightly in the arms of his tormentor.