Running With The Night

It should have been a night to remember.

Mr. Ex had been engulfed with a new pet project as of late so our time together had been limited. We definitely needed some quality time together. With the kids at J-Fed's for the night and his kids with the ex-wife, we decided to spend the evening in Miami Beach. The night was young, and we had plenty of time to kill.

I thought we had an unspoken rule to take turns driving, but I guess I was wrong. Just five minutes into our night, Mr. Ex mandated that he'd drive. He didn't want me to get us killed. Sure my driving left a lot to be desired, and no, it wasn't like I was Danica Patrick, but what's fair is fair, and suddenly I didn't feel like he was being fair.

It wasn't like Mr. Ex's driving was much better. To say he was a raving lunatic would be an understatement. He was all over the road. At first, he simply blew through a few lights. No big deal. But then he kept running us off the road. I was starting to get a little pissed. Not only did he deny my repeated requests to drive, but about the only thing he would let me control was the radio, and I'm pretty sure that's only because he couldn't have cared less about that at the time. He had bigger things to worry about.

As his navigation skills began to go downhill fast, just like our car, Mr. Ex became more aggressive. Suddenly he had a serious need for speed. He was downright dangerous. He ran a few cars off the road and had some near misses with a bunch of pedestrians. It didn't phase him one bit. I sat there quietly waiting for my turn. I was getting jealous. When in God's name was I going to get my chance? For a moment, I thought he was going to bend. But as quickly as he went to offer the wheel, he snatched it back, toying with me in some sick cat and mouse game.