I've been at this "being married" thing a long time.
A really long time. Heck, a reeeaallllyyy long time. At this point, I'm the Tom Brady of being married. Well, if instead of being really good at his job, Brady was an untalented doofus who just got lucky and is being carried along by a much stronger teammate.
I mention this not because extolling the Lovely Mrs. Smith's virtues in such a public forum would seem a great way to get me out of buying her a gift on Valentine's Day. That would be a horrible misuse of my journalistic opportunity, as well as being a cheesy and cynical way to get out of having to shop. And, she's patient, but not stupid.
After 30-plus years, she's kind of on to me. Plus my columns run on Friday, which this year is the day after Valentine's Day. So, even if the plan could work, I'd have be late with it.
No, I mention the length of my marital status because, in true male fashion, I'm not sure exactly how it happened and deep in my heart of hearts I'm pretty sure I didn't have nearly as much to do with it as someone else. But, I'm not only going to take credit for it, I'm going to tell you how I did it.
And the answer is, I'm not really sure. But I do have a few ideas.
For one, I have learned it is not only possible but likely that a person can be more than willing -- in fact, just reflexively -- to throw his body between someone he loves and eminent danger and still maintain a burning and deep-seated resentment over the way the toilet paper is loaded.
In other words, a person can be incredibly noble and immeasurably petty at the same time. We humans are funny that way.
I have also learned that it's not a lie when your spouse says no gift is required. Rather, it's equal parts a test and code.
The test is not whether you'll believe them. It's whether they're going to turn out to be so stupid as to align themselves with someone dumb enough to buy the claim, but not flowers, candy, jewelry, etc.
And the code goes something like this: "Of course, I want something. And the fact you even have to ask me implies that not only are you not paying attention, but that it's possible you don't even know me or really love me at all and this relationship is a lie."
OK, perhaps a little over-dramatic. But just try coming home empty-handed on Feb. 14 and see both where that gets you and if perhaps I may be underselling the situation.
I'm also checked out on the arc of Valentine's Day celebrating, which starts with "maybe someday I'll have someone to celebrate Valentine's Day with," to "We should celebrate Valentine's Day!," to "OK, so I guess we need to celebrate Valentine's Day," to "We need to celebrate Valentine's Day by making a Valentine's Day card box and baking 100 heart-shaped cookies from a list of ingredients that rule out peanuts, red dye, whole flour or processed sugar. And, probably, any sort of taste," to "we should celebrate Valentine's Day, buuuut, I didn't make reservations so how about carry-out and we'll watch moody detective shows on our streaming service. Which is, basically what we did last Valentine's Day. And New Year's. And every Friday night."
Which is to say, I've reached the point in my life where I understand I'm extremely human. I should know my spouse well enough that I both understand what she wants and want to get it for her in an effort to celebrate everything she's done for me. And, I really don't like figuring out how to make reservations and try to find parking.
I've also learned that while I'd better not boot Valentine's Day, it's going to take more than one day and a bunch of flowers to effectively demonstrate how I feel about my wife. But it's certainly worth a try. And it's more than likely I'll screw it up somehow. Which is OK, because obviously for quite some time, I've been getting points for effort.
And perhaps most important of all, I've learned that chocolate-covered fruit is highly overrated as a Valentine's gift. In fact, the right candy choice is the Reece's chocolate-covered peanut butter hearts. Mostly because it's what you want and chances are your spouse will at least pretend not to notice how many of them you gobble down.
Who says love fades with age?
Commentary on 02/15/2019