Is it ok to discuss a little marriage problem during the month of February?
I mean – it’s the love month and all. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s Valentine’s Day. But there’s a for-real problem, and maybe this is the place to air it out a little.
Here’s the story….
Remember when I wrote a few months ago that I’m a terrible gift giver? (Let’s just all pretend that we all read every article I write, ok?) In case your memory is a little like mine, and you have trouble remembering what you did yesterday, much less what someone wrote a few months ago, I’ll give you a little recap.
I’m a terrible gift giver. It makes me feel pressure. I put it off. I pick something up last minute that’s usually the worst idea ever.
There you have it. My gift giving skills in four sentences.
But NOT this year. This year, for Christmas, an entire three and a half weeks before the big day, I bought my husband a gift. This is a big deal, because I haven’t bought him a Christmas gift for at least 10 years. So I’m pumped. So pumped that I’m tempted to tell him what it is, but I hold back because Christmas is coming.
We talk about it, and every time he asks me about the gift, I smile so big and so wide. Literally almost unable to keep myself from giggling over my very great gift giving.
“How much did it cost?” he asks. “Twenty-something dollars,” I reply.
He’s pretty stumped at this point, and I refuse to give any more information about where it came from, what it is or where it’s hidden.
The day before Christmas Eve, he asks me again about the gift, and I tell him again how it’s going to be his favorite thing ever and possibly his favorite gift of all time.
I can’t keep it a secret anymore so I get it from where it’s been nestled away in my unworn shoes, hiding in the closet that I said I didn’t hide it in.
I hide it behind my back, bring it to him in the living room, while every kid watches me present the gift that will amaze the world.
I slowly unfold the gift. His face registers the look of bewilderment that comes when something has been so hyped that it can never live up to the actual event.
“Socks?” he questions.
“Not just any sock,” I say. “Camouflage socks with my face on them. Aren’t they amazing?”
In my mind, it would combine his love of hunting (hence the camouflage) with his love of me (hence my face all over his socks).
He was unamused. I was undone.
Seriously, I give the man a well thought out gift for the first time in a decade and he’s unappreciative of the thought, time and effort it took for me to submit my face to the sock company to make socks with my face on it? The nerve.
I “gently” remind him to wear the socks on Christmas Eve to my family’s house. Maybe they’ll be impressed. (They weren’t.)
He wears them again, the next day for Christmas when his family comes over. Which is gross because it means he wore them two days in a row, but endearing. He tells me he likes them.
But, here’s the truth. He hasn’t worn them since. I know this because I wash all the clothes around here, and they’ve yet to turn up in the dirty clothes. I thought about donating them to a thrift store, but that would be weird if someone was around town wearing socks with my face on them.
So I’ve decided that there are no gifts happening for Valentine’s Day. Not that I’ve ever given him anything for Valentine’s. But still. It’s the principal of the matter at this point. Maybe I’ll try writing a poem. About men who love when their wives give them socks with their face on it. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll get the hint.
So Happy Valentine’s Day to all. May your gifts make someone smile. (Even if that person is you!) POV