THE FUCK BUDDY

He didn’t do relationships, they were messy; people got hurt, he explained to Maria in the bar and she nodded in agreement.  Fuck buddies were better.  Somehow he got side-tracked by his reflection in her eyes and they ended up in bed.  Maria was an excellent fuck buddy, she complimented him on the music he wrote, laughed at his jokes and told him he was intelligent.  So he saw her again and again.  She never nagged about his drinking, she encouraged it and as he worked from home he could get away with a lot.  He and his mates would always wind up in the same bar as her and hers.  Eventually, it became a mixed group so his friends started inviting their girlfriends along.
One afternoon after sex, they went into town and accidentally met her parents, who turned out to know his parents through the Rotary club.  The next Sunday they all went out for a family lunch together, her smug sister and harrassed looking brother-in-law came too.  Maria whispered to him; “At least we won’t end up like my sister and Paul.”
Maria became Omnipresent; as well as the drawer of stuff she had already, more and more of her things started to appear in his flat.  His guitar collection disappeared into storage to make room for potted plants and Disney DVD’s.  He went out without her like old times, but the lads brought their girlfriends and he felt left out, Max even got engaged, he never thought Max would marry.  One night, Maria was waiting for him when he got back, didn’t she have a home to go to?  She’d made him a bacon sandwich; “You need your strength.  It’s Ikea tomorrow for shelves for our second bedroom.”
“Our second bedroom?”
She gave him a confused look; “I did move in two months ago, daftie!  Remember, I sold my flat.  Have another whisky.”
Time passed in a blur – Ikea, work, sex, nights in by the telly, takeaways, routine sex, Max’s wedding in Las Vegas of all places, parents’ wedding anniversary, too tired for routine sex but doing it anyway  ... A cat appeared in the flat, it’s name was Gotye after the musician, but Maria pronounced the name Got Ya.  The endless family social events were easier if he had a whisky in his hand.
It was at the birthday party of Paul, Maria’s brother-in-law that he suddenly had a horrible moment of clarity.  Couples were everywhere, the women talking babies and the men with same harrassed look on their faces that he’d seen in the mirror that morning.  He looked across at Maria, her figure was sagging, she was tucking into a large plate of buffet food.  He knew it was time to leave, saw the exit and headed for it.
Paul stepped into his path, whisky in hand; “Can’t go out that way mate, you’ll set off an alarm.  Your wife’s got an appetite, hasn’t she?  Eating for two eh?”
“Hang on!  Did you say my wife?”
Paul looked puzzled; “You married her weeks ago, doubled up with Max and Suze at Vegas, you were well drunk,” he showed him the pictures on his smartphone, Max and Suze, Maria in a white dress and him in a suit looking harrassed.
“I don’t remember ...”
“There you are love,” Maria put a glass of whisky in his hand, “drink it, all in one go, you’ll feel better.”
He could have sworn that, from the corner of his eye, he’d seen her put something in it.