#freak2fr

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When I was married, my ex-wife Jessica and I went to a bar with another couple—Mark and his wife Linda. They were more Jessica's friends than mine, people she'd known since college who had never really accepted me into their circle. From the moment we sat down, Linda made it crystal clear she didn't like me and was going to spend the evening making that known.

It started with little passive-aggressive comments. "Oh, you're wearing that shirt again?" when I walked in. "I guess some people just have different standards," when I ordered a beer instead of the craft cocktail she suggested. But as the drinks kept flowing, Linda's filter completely disappeared.

She started attacking everything about me. My job as a mechanic was "beneath" Jessica. My family was "trashy" because we didn't go to country clubs. She even made comments about my appearance, saying Jessica could "do so much better" and wondering aloud why she'd "settled" for someone like me.

Every time I tried to fire back or defend myself, Mark would immediately jump in with "Hey man, she's just joking around" or "Don't take it so seriously." Jessica would kick me under the table and give me warning looks, making it clear I was expected to just sit there and take it.

"You know what your problem is?" Linda slurred after her sixth martini, pointing her finger at me. "You're insecure because you know Jessica is out of your league. She's educated, classy, successful. And you're just some grease monkey who got lucky."

The whole bar could hear her at this point. Other patrons were starting to stare, and I could feel my face burning with embarrassment and rage. But when I opened my mouth to respond, Jessica grabbed my arm and hissed, "Don't you dare cause a scene."

So I sat there, seething, while this drunk woman systematically destroyed my self-esteem in front of my wife and a room full of strangers. Mark just kept ordering more drinks and pretending nothing was happening. Jessica was actually laughing at some of Linda's "jokes."

Then Linda decided she needed to use the restroom. She stood up from her chair, swaying slightly, and started walking toward the back of the bar. But as she pushed her chair back, I heard a distinct crack. The leg of her chair had been wobbling all night, and her aggressive movements had finally broken it completely.

She took two steps before the broken chair leg gave way entirely, sending her tumbling backward. She tried to catch herself but was too drunk to react quickly enough. Linda went down hard, face-first into the floor with a sickening thud that made the entire bar go silent.

Blood immediately started pouring from her nose, which was clearly broken. She was screaming and crying, mascara running down her face mixed with blood.

Jessica and Linda rushed to the restroom to get paper towls. Mark immediately went to find the manager, probably already thinking about potential lawsuits and liability issues.

That's when I saw my opportunity.

While everyone was distracted, I quickly swapped Linda's broken chair with an identical one from the table next to ours. The couple sitting there had left about ten minutes earlier, so no one noticed the switch. I pushed the broken chair under their empty table and pulled the good chair over to our spot.

When the manager arrived, Mark was already launching into his explanation about how the chair was defective and how the bar was liable for his wife's injuries. He was talking about calling lawyers and demanding they pay for medical bills.

The manager examined the chair Linda had supposedly been sitting in—the perfectly fine chair I'd just swapped in. He tested it, sat in it, checked all the joints. It was completely solid.

"Sir, this chair is fine," the manager said, looking confused. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"That's impossible!" Mark insisted. "The leg broke when she stood up!"

I stepped in at that moment, putting on my most concerned voice. "Actually, I saw what happened. Linda was pretty drunk, and when she stood up, she just lost her balance and fell over. The chair didn't break—she just tripped."

The manager nodded, clearly relieved that his establishment wasn't at fault. "That makes more sense. We've had several people overserved tonight."

Mark was furious, but he couldn't prove anything. The chair was fine, there were no witnesses to back up his story about it breaking, and I'd just provided an alternative explanation that made perfect sense given Linda's obvious intoxication.

Linda ended up needing surgery to reset her broken nose, and Mark had no case for a lawsuit. The injury—a broken nose—wasn't due to a broken chair, but because she was drunk and fell over.