About two years ago my wife went out drinking with some friends from work. She told me she would be home by midnight. When she wasn't home at 1:00, I got worried and called her. By 2:00, I decided to go to the bar and check on her. I saw her in the parking lot leaning her head against a male co-worker's chest.
As they got into his truck together, I walked up to the driver's side, banged on the window, and asked him what the fuck he was doing with my wife. He said he wasn't doing anything and that she had asked him for a ride. I told him to keep doing nothing and to back the fuck off. I walked around to the passenger's side and instantly forgave my wife when I saw how drunk she was. She had trouble focusing and was slurring her speech. I pulled her gently out of the truck, gave her a hug, and told her that I would drive her home.
On the way back to our apartment, she thanked me for the ride, in Spanish for some reason, and I told her it was no problem. She seemed really happy about the fact that I could understand her. She told me that she loved me so much, but by this point she was becoming less and less coherent.
By the time we got to our apartment, she was in no condition to climb the stairs up to our second-story room. I picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. When I got to our front door, I used my knee to balance her in my left hand while I dug around for my keys in my right pocket. I opened the door and laid her on the bed, but she managed to communicate that she needed to pee. I carried her over to the toilet, but she was too drunk to unbutton her pants, so I undid them for her, sat her down, and let her do her business.
I was scared because I had never seen her so drunk before. She was a tiny woman, less than 100 pounds. She said she was feeling really sick, and I asked what I could do to make her feel better, but I had my doubts about whether she could hear or comprehend what I was saying. Suddenly, while she was still on the toilet, she lurched forward and vomited all over her feet.
I took some toilet paper and wiped off the floor and her feet and told her it would be best for her to get some sleep. Her only response was a soft murmur of disagreement. I sat there for a few more minutes and again broached the topic of getting to bed. She didn't say anything this time, so I lifted her up off the toilet, and, despite her protests, cleaned her up, laid her down on her side, and tucked her in before disinfecting the bathroom floor. Then I lay down next to her and listened to the sound of her breathing until the sun came up and I couldn't stay awake any longer.
I went to bed thinking that the coworker probably would have raped her if I hadn't stepped in. As it turns out, she had already been sleeping with him for months. Our divorce is currently pending. I've never told anybody about that night, and my wife was too drunk to remember it. I'm still proud of what I did though. It was the only time in my life that I really stood up and fought for something that I cared about.