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HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, DARLING
by Mariane Holbrook
We have an anniversary coming up. As usual, John will forget and I'll wait til after 10 pm when the stores close and smile pretty and hug him and say "Happy Anniversary, honey." I love to watch his pupils dilate and his face blanch as he hyperventilates. Then he quickly looks at his watch. Without fail.
Too late.
I smile to myself, knowing the gift check he's about to write as a consolation prize will be bigger than usual.
John forgets important dates like birthdays, Mother's Day, Christmas, Valentine's Day and anniversaries. He remembers the ACC tournament, the World Series, The Marlin Fishing Tournament, the World Series and the Super Bowl. Those dates are carved permanently with laser precision in the innermost regions of his brain.
We'll be celebrating our 40 something anniversary in a few weeks. I'm not sure which anniversary. And it's either on the 20th or the 21st of the month. I always have to check my calendar. I forget.
But wives aren't supposed to give anniversary presents to their husbands. It's a guy thingy. They should be so grateful we married them that they plan way ahead for gifts, saving their lawn mower money and Christmas bonuses.
Not John.
To prove my point, here is a comparative list of traditional Anniversary Gifts suggestions:
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MODERN LIST |
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JOHN'S LIST |
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1st |
Clocks |
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1st |
Tire gauge |
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2nd |
China |
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2nd |
Motor oil |
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3rd |
Crystal |
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3rd |
Steel wool |
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4th |
Appliances |
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4th |
Paint thinner |
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5th |
Silverware |
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5th |
Minnow bucket |
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6th |
Wood |
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6th |
Vice grips |
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7th |
Desk sets |
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7th |
Carburetor |
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8th |
Linens, Lace |
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8th |
Diawa reel |
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9th |
Leather |
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9th |
Shrimp net |
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10th |
Diamonds |
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10th |
Battery charger |
Our first anniversary was celebrated at the St. George Hotel near New York City. John confidently placed our order for lobster. We were still in college and this was our BIG NIGHT OUT. We stared at the lobster in front of us and didn't have a clue.
"Ask the waiter," I whispered. John shook his head. No way. Men don't ask directions and don't ask waiters how to eat lobster.
Staring at the Homarus americanus crustacean, I figured there must be some edible parts somewhere in that thing. John looked at the lobster and saw a week's salary.
Finally, he silently beckoned to me and we got outta Dodge. I mean we left the lobsters intact and untouched. He drove directly to a diner and we had a liverwurst on rye.
Hey, he didn't earn the title "The Last Of The Big Time Lovers" for nuthin
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