Casual Expressions . . . . . . . . . .
all about : When someone is all about something, they are enthusiastic about it.
o Ex: I hate group projects but I am all about working alone.
back [someone] up : When you support a friend during a conflict or crisis, you back him or her up.
o Ex: If Dave calls you out, Ivan will back you up.
central : Central follows a noun and is used to denote the extreme or superlative form of something.
o Ex: Boar's Head is fraternity central, so don't go in without your Northface.
don't sweat it : If someone says "don't sweat it," then they are telling you not to worry about it and that everything will be alright.
o Ex: That test only counts 15% of your overall grade, so don't sweat it.
fixin : When you are fixin to do something, then you plan to perform the action in a short amount of time.
o Ex: I’m fixin to go back home. You want a ride?
(From “DawgSpeak! The Slanguage Dictionary of the University of Georgia
“He Maybe A Serial Cheat, But I'm Too Spoilt To Leave Him"
By Anabelle Carmichael
13th September 2010
Two weeks ago, I was sitting on the shady terrace of our house in Tuscany
In the garden our hired cook was picking herbs for dinner, and down beyond the stone steps I could hear my three children splashing and laughing in the pool as they played with their father.
'This is perfect,' I kept telling myself. 'I am so lucky to have all this.' Which makes the fact that I'm actually incredibly unhappy so hard to believe.
Turning a blind eye: Would you forgive your husband if he had an affair because you love your married lifestyle?
Not that anyone would ever realise; to the outside world I am a contented wife and mother with a wonderful lifestyle.
But just two days earlier, I'd discovered a beautifully wrapped Italian scarf in deep shades of grey that I would never wear hidden away at the bottom of my husband's suitcase... and I suspect, once again, he is cheating on me.
When I first met Robert ten years ago, my life was very different. I was a single girl, sharing a basement flat in London
I bought my clothes at Topshop, got cheap last-minute flights to Greece
One evening, a friend invited me to the opening night of an art gallery. We arrived when the party was in full swing and stood on the edge, unable to even see the bar, let alone get to it.
Then a well-dressed man bearing two glasses of champagne appeared in front of us. 'For you, ladies,' he said beguilingly. Robert was about ten years older than me, and from his handmade shoes to his silk tie, everything about him shouted rich and successful.
I didn't expect him to hang around, but he seemed to find me hilarious and appeared genuinely interested in what I had to say. At the end of the evening, he asked for my number and, though I never expected to hear from him again, I gave it to him.
'Part of Robert’s "making it up to me" gift was buying us a villa in Italy
Not only did he call the very next morning, within six months we were living together in his Kensington apartment. I'm from a normal middle-class background but, thanks to a prosperous family business, Robert had enjoyed a life of privilege and was now a successful architect.
By the time I met him when I was 28, he not only had his own practice, but was clearly wealthy in his own right. We both had the same sense of humour and enjoyed similar things, and he seemed to like the fact I wasn't part of the privileged set with whom he'd always socialised.
'It's refreshing to find someone so unaffected by it all,' he would tell me, adoringly.
Except that I was affected by it all. At first I hung on to my independence, but even I could see that it was slightly ridiculous: I couldn't afford to split the bills in the expensive restaurants we went to, nor could I attend an exclusive party wearing something I'd picked up in River Island.
I began to let him buy me lovely clothes, take me on fantastic holidays and even pay off my credit cards. And the horrible truth is, I loved it. My old life seemed grey in comparison.
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Just over a year after we met, we were married - with a reception at Claridges - and, 18 months after that, I gave birth to our first son, Jamie. Life was good: we moved to a rambling Victorian rectory in Surrey and, not long after, bought a weekend cottage on the south coast.
There were plenty of other women in the area with rich husbands, just like me. I quickly found myself living a similar life to them, with the four-wheel drive, the gym membership, the au pair and the days punctuated by lunch or shopping.
Robert and I socialised a lot, often with his business associates, and I knew it was important to look good and be charming. I was the perfect hostess at the lavish parties we threw. We were well-known among the social set and did our 'bit' for charity.
But if I'm honest, by the time our second son, George, was born in 2006, I'd begun to have doubts about our relationship. Robert suddenly had to go away on business an awful lot.
He would disappear into his study and shut the door, and I would hear him speaking on the phone in a low voice. I sensed something was wrong, but I didn't have the courage to face my fears.
After a while, much to my relief, things seemed to get more or less back to normal.
And then, two years ago, things came to a head. I'd just had our third son, Benjamin, and I wasn't feeling great. He was a difficult, colicky baby, and I was exhausted.
For Robert, these broken nights were disastrous because he had a demanding practice to run, so he started to stay at a small hotel in London
'I’m not sure I still love the man I’m married to, let alone trust him — I’m constantly wondering where he is and who he’s seeing'
‘Being there means I can work late, get a good night’s sleep and be at my desk first thing. I’ll make it up to you at the weekend, darling, I promise,’ he’d say.
Then, late one evening when he was away, a client of his phoned to cancel a meeting planned for the next day, and I offered to pass the message on.
Unusually, Robert’s mobile was switched off, so I phoned the hotel. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have anyone of that name staying with us this evening,’ I was told.
Robert came home the next day, proffering a huge bouquet of flowers. I asked him about his stay at the hotel. ‘Oh, it was fine,’ he said airily. ‘They look after me so well there.’
Later, when he was playing golf, I went through his credit card bills, his correspondence — everything.
Forgiven: Toni has remained with John Terry despite his infidelity
I found a separate mobile phone tucked deep into a pocket of his briefcase. After I’d read all the intimate text messages on it, I realised he’d been having an affair with someone called Lucy for almost six months. It had started when I was pregnant with Benjamin.
I remember sitting on the edge of our bed, shaking with shock. My whole world, everything I thought was safe, was suddenly a mess. I looked down into the garden where my eldest sons were playing with our au pair and wondered what on earth I should do.
When I confronted Robert, he was furious that I’d gone through his belongings, then blamed me for being cold and distant.
He told me I should accept his ‘fling’ was just a small mistake and get over it. But, after a long night of tears and recriminations, he begged my forgiveness and vowed it would never happen again.
‘I need you,’ he told me. ‘It will be awful for the boys and we have a lovely life.’
I looked around the beautiful bedroom with the en suite bathroom and the walk-in dressing room; I thought about the private education our eldest sons were enjoying and the trips we went on — only the following week we were flying to Nice to celebrate a friend’s birthday; I thought about my carefree life without the money worries my old friends still had.
And I realised that the principles I’d once sworn by — ‘I would rather have a happy marriage with a man I trust and be poor than pots of money and a bad relationship’ — didn’t stand for much after all. I didn’t want to give up this lifestyle. I didn’t want to go back to being ‘ordinary’.
And so we agreed to put it all behind us and move on. Two years later, I’m not sure I still love the man I’m married to, let alone trust him — I’m constantly wondering where he is and who he’s seeing.
Looking back I suspect he had another affair four years ago, after our second son was born, and now, yet again, I think my fears are justified.
Part of Robert’s ‘making it up to me’ gift was buying this villa in Italy
Robert joined me on the terrace. ‘All right, darling?’ he said cheerfully. He picked up his wine glass and clinked mine. ‘Here’s to the good life, eh?’
Interview by Sharon Parsons. Names have been changed.
(Source: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1311410/He-maybe-serial-cheat-Im-spoilt-leave-him.html?ito=feeds-newsxml#ixzz0zhuIbsg0)
Questions:
1. What do you think is meant by the highlighted phrases?
2. What would you have done in the wife’s situation? What about if the roles were reversed and the wife was
the “prosperous” one caught cheating on her husband?
3. Can you imagine the author telling this story to you, perhaps over a cup of coffee at home? Or does the tone, sentence structures, and choice of words make it suitable only in the written format?
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