The man came home and, without even taking off his shoes or coat, announced: “We need to have a serious talk.”
He strode in, still bundled up in his winter coat, and declared:
“Eleanor! We need to talk”
And then, without missing a beat, his already wide eyes somehow grew even wider, as if he hadnt a doubt in the world:
“I’ve fallen in love!”
*Well then*, thought Eleanor, *here comes the midlife crisis. Welcome to the club* She gave him a careful once-oversomething she hadnt done in years (five? Six? Or was it eight already?).
They say your life flashes before your eyes when youre about to die. In Eleanors case, it was her entire life with her husband that flashed by. Theyd met the modern wayonline. Eleanor had shaved three years off her age, her future husband had added an inch to his height, and somehow, despite these minor fabrications, theyd still managed to meet each others search criteria. And so they found one another.
Eleanor couldnt remember who messaged first, but she knew his opening line had been free of cringe, laced with self-deprecating humor, which shed loved. By thirty-three, having assessed her chances on the “dating market,” Eleanor was painfully aware of her standingnot quite last in line, but certainly not firstso for their first date, she decided against overdressing. Instead, she threw on a stylish outfit, her favourite pink sunglasses, a designer bra, packed homemade biscuits and a copy of *Middlemarch* into her handbag, and called it a day.
Their first meeting went surprisingly smoothly (*see? The right outfit does wonders!*), and their romance progressed with alarming enthusiasm. They had fun together, so after six months of steady datingand relentless parental pressure from both sides, who had long given up hope of grandchildrenher future husband finally worked up the nerve to propose. They introduced their families, opted for a small wedding (which both sets of parents immediately approved, likely out of sheer relief), and, terrified that someone might come to their senses, booked the earliest available date.
Life, as far as Eleanor was concerned, was good. Their marriage had a tropical climateno fiery passion storms, just mild seasonal fluctuations, stable and respectful. Wasnt that happiness? Her husband, a classic example of the male species, had shed his “emotionally deep, hopeless romantic with golden hands” persona within weeks of the wedding, reverting to his natural state: a simple, hardworking man in comfy joggers.
Eleanor, true to her genders reputation, took longer to unlace the corset of her “mysterious, intellectual, effortlessly sexy homemaker” image, though pregnancy sped things up considerably. Within a year, she too had happily surrendered to the allure of a well-worn dressing gown.
The fact that neither of them missed their old personasnor held it against each otherconvinced Eleanor theyd made the right choice, solidifying her faith in their partnership. The mundanity of daily life and raising two children (born in quick succession) sometimes rocked their family boat violently, but it never capsized. When the storms passed, they sailed smoothly once more.
Happy grandparents helped where they could, work was stable, holidays were taken, hobbies indulged, and they still made time for each otherliving, by all accounts, a perfectly average life.
Twelve years into their marriage, her husband had never once been caught flirting, let alone straying. Not that Eleanor was the jealous typehad he slipped up, shed have probably laughed it off. The idea of him trying to charm another woman was downright comical. Early on, after a few failed attempts at traditional compliments, hed admitted defeat and adopted a new tactic: silent admiration, conveyed by widening his eyes like a startled owl.
Over the years, Eleanor had learned to decipher his entire emotional spectrum based on just how round his eyes gotwild enthusiasm, quiet approval, stunned disbelief, utter confusion, and full-blown indignation. So when he announced his sudden love affair, she pictured him showering some poor woman with compliments, eyes bulging wider with each one
Her throat went dry. She forced a nervous smile.
“So whats her name, this woman of yours?”
His eyes practically rolled up into his forehead. Flustered, he flapped his hands.
“What? How did youhow did you even*guess* it was a woman?! No, you dont understandI just couldnt walk past her, shes *perfect*look, just look at her! So soft, so beautiful she reminds me of you”
From his pocket, he produced a small, greyish-brown guinea pig with pink-tinged ears, a twitchy nose, and beady black eyes.
Eleanor heard nothing else. She stared at her husband, his new love, their mutual adoration, and was overwhelmingly relieved that the object of his affection was, in fact, a guinea pig one that bore a striking resemblance to her.
