Things I Learned From 33 years of Marriage

Friday, April 23^rd was our 33^rd anniversary. The 33^rd year is rather odd. Sort of right in the middle and doesn’t sound as impressive as 30 or 35 years. So, I thought this would be a good time to share my multi years of experience with fellow husbands. If these suggestions are followed you will have a happy wife and a happy life. I realize this could be suicidal but here’s what I’ve learned from being married for 33 years.

When your wife is in the middle of hard labor delivering one of your precious children, don’t tell her you are tired, hungry, or wish she’d hurry up.

If the impossible happens and you are right about something, never jump around the room shouting, “I am the man!” or “I just schooled you!”

When playing a neighborhood game of whiffle ball on the front lawn, if you are pitching, hold the ball until your wife passes. Realize that Whiffle balls are "radared" right to your wife’s head.

Never tell your wife the carpet needs vacuumed, the floor needs sweeping, the toilet needs scrubbing. Be prepared to be shown the vacuum, handed the broom and struck with the toilet brush.

When your wife is driving be sure to never offer any driving advice. Enough said…

Also regarding driving, always turn where she says to turn, stop when she says stop, and don’t complain no matter how far off course you might end up.

Always change the baby’s diapers, feed and bathe them. Your wife might need to do the same for you when you are older. That’s when you hope she remembers how gentle you were with your babies.

If the toilet seat is left up don’t blame the dog.

Always say “excuse me” after a burp. Better yet, don’t burp.

Always let your wife handle the money. But, take it back immediately after she’s done touching it.

Root for Mr. Darcy, cheer for Jacob the werewolf, and don’t tell her every good looking male movie star is gay.

Even if you didn’t hear her, don’t make up answers to your wife’s questions.

You will never need to make another decision when buying clothes. She will buy them all for you. After all, you are dressing for her.

Don’t leave your shoes in the middle of the living room. Her feet will trip over them.

When watching a movie, dab your eyes occasionally with a tissue during the tender parts. Yeah, you’ve got her then.

Finally, always love her, treat her like royalty and realize she really is the boss.

Flirt 101

I usually take off to work a little earlier than Jan. I get up earlier than Jan. I eat breakfast earlier than Jan. I even go to bed earlier than Jan. Jan does beat me home from work since she gets off around noon.

I had taken my time getting ready the other day. I perused through our email. I browsed through a few news websites to verify I and the world were still alive, looked through some scores in the sports section of the morning’s paper.

I was enjoying a leisurely breakfast when Jan races out of the bedroom, “I gotta get going!”

Whoa, I guess I needed to get out the door too since it was a quarter to eight. Jan squirted by me through the doorway just before I locked the dead bolt. We jumped into our individual cars, revved the high octane motors up and squealed out of the driveway like street racers.

Even if I’m following Jan just a few feet she ends up hundreds of yards ahead of me. I eat her dust, road rubber, engine fumes or whatever. I don’t think she’s fast, just nimble.

This one morning I caught up with her at the light. I drove slowly up next to our little Toyota. People claim I drive with blinders on because I don’t notice when people I know wave at me as they zip by. But I think Jan drives with platters. Even next to her I had to put the glare stare on her to win her attention. Of course, it could be that she doesn’t want the other drivers to know she knows me.

At the light I wave vigorously at her like I was trying to stop a train speeding toward a car stuck on the tracks. She turns, smiles and raises her hand in a dainty wave. The light turned and we speed off again until we hit the next red light.

This time she turns my way and I pretend that I’m tipping my hat towards me. She flashes a smile as the light changes and off we go again.

At the next light I caught her again. She tries to ignore me so I roll down the window and wildly wave at her. Now she’s looking a little perturbed. Yeah, I learned how to flirt years ago. I got all the text book moves plus a few of my own.

At the next light I pull up next to the white Corolla and blew kisses as rapidly as machine gun fire. She wasn’t buying it. So, I doubled my efforts and began using two hands. Finally she turned and held up her cell phone to show me she was dialing 911. It was then I realized…it wasn’t Jan.

I whipped the sun visor to the side, and covered my face with my hands in peek-a-boo position and waited for the light to change. Mercy arrived as the light switched green and I banked hard right around the nearest street corner.

Pulling into a church parking lot I cowered as I waited to make sure I wasn’t being followed.

Like I said, I wrote the book on flirt.