I went travelling once. On a world trip with my best friend – not my husband. I’d never had a gap year, see. And I got together with my husband so early. And I went straight from studying to work … Anyway, I had a real adventure on that trip. Fucked some guy.
Did you tell your husband?
Yes. When I got back. We talked it over.
Did he mind?
Of course he minded. It was a crisis. But all was forgiven in the end. In fact, I think it was good for us.
Ah, the married lives of the bourgeoisie.
I’ll bet you despise us. It’s easy to despise us, I think. I half despise us. We’ve got it all: that’s what you think. We have money and lifestyle, and we’re supposed to feel guilty about it. My husband flies all over the world, earning all this consultancy money and we’re supposed to loathe ourselves. What a joke! Anyway, we aren’t that rich. We’re comfortable, that’s all.
So your husband provides?
And I provide.
Not as much. You’re a junior lecturer, right? And he’s a professor. Is that a turn on: success? A second home in Mallorca? City breaks and so on?
Work in Progress 