I have never been a fan of the practical joke. I always hurt for the person who is the butt end of one, even when they laugh along, even when that person is not me. Perhaps it's because practical jokes produce a laugh at someone else's expense. A Nelson (from The Simpsons) like "ha ha!" that someone has been stupid enough to actually trust: trust that people won't hurt them, trust that people won't do something to make them look foolish and then laugh at them, trust that people mean what they say. To us codies, that's not funny, that's our worst nightmare.Six or seven years ago (I wish it had been six, but I think it was seven), I decided to play the one and only April Fool's joke I can ever remember playing. I was sitting with my son on the floor when the phone rang. It was my husband calling and I remember thinking I would pick up the phone and sternly say that I had had it with him and was leaving. This would obviously be a joke, because we were desperately in love and had this beautiful little son. We hadn't had a fight in years. He'd be confused for a moment, because he would have forgotten it was April Fool's Day, but then we'd both laugh because it was so ridiculous. I couldn't get through the joke at all, I tried to tell him I didn't love him anymore and was through with him, but I giggled the whole way through.
Of course, six years ago today, the universe played its own April Fool's Day joke on me, because that's the day Mark reached his bottom as a sex addict. It took another year for him to come clean about it (and everything else) and start recovery. I always wonder if my joke did take place on the self same day, and if it struck a chord in a man already in the depths of denial or (depending on the time of day that day) despair. Since he doesn't remember it, I suppose not. It was a bad joke anyway.
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