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NOT Harry and Louise

It’s time again for our advice column, NOT Harry and Louise. We had a bit of a scare when we checked in on Harry and Louise to see that their column was lost in the shuffle of a Washingtonian website redesign, but have no fear. Your outcries were heard and Washingtonian has corrected this most egregious of errors. Which means we have a fresh question submitted to Harry Jaffe and his wife, Louise, to answer for them. Because if THEY’RE qualified to give advice, WE’RE qualified to give advice. So here we go.

My husband took a golfing trip with his buddies last week. It’s an annual trip they have been taking for a few years, balanced by a trip I take with my girlfriends for a week or so. All good, so far.

My husband doesn’t do much social media–no Facebook, no Twitter. I am not a creature of the Web, yet I do have a Facebook page. The night before my husband returned, one of my friends e-mailed me and said I should check out her husband’s Facebook page. She said there were some “interesting” pictures from the golf trip. Sure enough, his Facebook had dozens of pictures from the trip. Many were of the guys laughing in golf carts and shrugging in sand traps. But there were more than a few of the boys carousing in bars. What was “interesting” to my friend–and to me, unfortunately–is that my husband seemed to have one woman by his side in every picture. She was cute and perky, a bit of a ginger–in other words, just his type. She looked just like his ex-wife. In all the pictures, the bars were different, the crowd changed, but this woman was always by my husband’s side.

What do I do? I’m scared of talking to him about it but too anxious to keep it to myself. We are at a wonderful point in our marriage, or so I thought. We have been together for five years and have started to talk about having a baby.

Please help.

Worried Webmistress

When I was a kid, I always heard rumors that in Myrtle Beach, there was a magical restaurant that was right next door to a strip club. In the men’s restroom, there was a backdoor that connected the two establishments. All the men who went on golfing trips and had to bring along their spouses would always take them to dinner here and then claim tummy trouble to spend large chunks of time in the bathroom. Meanwhile, they’d be at the top secret strip club. I don’t know if such a place exists, but I tell you that story to prove a point. If you are a man and you’re on a golfing trip with your buddies, you’re thinking of more than just balls and shafts. You’re also thinking about balls and shafts. It’s the classic test of the strength of a relationship. Can it survive the “weekend with the guys”?

For men with more self control, they approach the weekend with the mindset that it’s okay to try to recapture some of their misspent youth by flirting with women while away from home. Men with even less self control get carried away and act on all that flirting. Sit him down RIGHT NOW and find out who the hell that lady was. Maybe he wasn’t cheating. Hell, he needs to be punished just for being so stupid that he let those pictures get out. So, what’s worse? Being married to a cheater? Or being married to a moron? Either way, make him come clean. Keep in mind that the only thing worse than a cheating husband is a wife who won’t let her man go out and have fun with friends. Just make sure that everyone agrees on what the definition of “fun” is.

But, that’s just us. What the hell do we know? We aren’t seasoned advice columnists like Jaffe and his wife, Louise. How did THEY approach this?  Let’s start with Harry.

“I can see why you might find the photos disturbing, but frankly, I don’t see anything even remotely incriminating in what you described.”

Come on, Harry. You’re really saying that it might be a total coincidence that this dude was photographed in several different bars and it might have been “simple happenstance”??? That is LITERALLY the worst excuse that any man could come up with in this situation… He might as well just tell his wife, “That thing that looks like a buxom blonde that’s hanging on my hip in every picture is actually just a tumor shaped like a buxom blonde.” I’d believe that first.

Louise, meanwhile, has this advice:

“Ask him to explain the photographs, and hear him out. Give him a chance to tell you everything, which means trying to interrupt him as little as possible. …If you think he’s full of *&$%, then tell him that, too. …State clearly what your expectations are during your time apart. …You also want to clarify that there is no hall pass to act like a complete asshole…”

We like Louise. Louise is a no-bullshit kind of lady. Which makes it even more insane that Harry thinks that he could throw out the world’s worst excuse and get away with it. We have a hard time believing that Louise would have a response as measured as this one if it was Harry photographed with the hottie on his hip.

 

 

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