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An open letter to my husband’s friends:
I get it. Before he was my husband, he was your friend. You all would gather together for sporting events, to watch games, play cards, or just shoot the breeze. You all shared many laughs, checked out hot women, cheered on your favorite teams, and made many memories.
But see, after he became my husband, he took on the greatest role: the dad to our three little kids. Maybe you have forgotten that line that our parents, professors, friends, work colleagues, pastors, family, etc. all have said at one point in our lives:
Friends don’t let friends drive drunk.
What good would my husband be to his family if he were to get a DUI and become unable to drive to work and feed our growing kids? What good is he when he’s too drunk to help take care of our sick toddler, or feed our infant? What good is he when he’s so hungover that he can only lie on the couch and not interact with his family?
What good would he be to us if, God forbid, he were to get into an accident and kill himself or someone else? How would he provide for our family while six feet under?
Maybe this all sounds overly dramatic, but these are the things you guys don’t bother to consider when you’re in the middle of cheering, high-fiving, and shooting the breeze—and more importantly, when he’s leaving the bar.
It’s not entirely your fault—trust me, he got an earful already for his own irresponsibility—but if you truly cared about your friend, then I wouldn’t be writing this letter. If you had his back when he left the bar in the same way you would have it if some drunk a-hole started sh*t with him, I wouldn’t be writing this plea.
So please, spare me the complaining, the arguing, and just listen. If your only concern is having fun and not being a fully responsible adult, then please don’t invite my husband to go out. He will find friends to have fun with that won’t let him get behind the wheel in that condition, or that will call him a cab, or call his wife to come pick him up.
Yes, I’d rather have to pack up all three of our sleeping children in the middle of the night and go pick up his drunk self rather than having the next time I’d see him be in a jail, a hospital, or worse, a morgue. Much like the parent that would rather have to go pick up their drunk child from an underage drinking party, I would rather pick up my belligerent husband than deal with the consequences of not doing so.
In closing, if this situation occurs again—if there’s ever even an opportunity for such—please, I beg of you, be that true friend. Because it’s worth repeating: Friends don’t let friends drive drunk.
Sincerely,
A very concerned wife, who is both tired and angry
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Photo credit: Flickr/YuMaNuMa
A very reasonable plea.
https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/my-white-privilege-from-the-inside-of-prison-lbkr/