Girl Talk III

She laughs because her oldest friends must either be sans-relationship or carefully plan their escapes from men to have a bit of girl-talk.
I am embarrassed to admit that I have escaped today, as well. I planned my escape and compromised for it. I love my husband, but the double standard is overt even in my third marriage. He informs me of his escapes—his small, manly vacations from my velvet noose.
“I am going to the game,” he announces. I can agree or disagree, but it is done.
I pave my escapes with concession, or at least conciliation. While you are at the game, I think I will go to the island. Don’t worry. I will board the dog, keep it cheap, not spend too much of my money or myself.
Will I ever feel free to say, “I am going to the island”? And will it ever feel safe and defensible? How many wives or lovers have paid the highest price for their escapes: finding younger versions of themselves in their beds when they returned?
Paybacks are a bitch. It stuns us that our freedom to belong to ourselves still balances on the apex of choice between constant aloneness and compromising togetherness.