I have been married for nearly ten years now--we've been together for nearly eleven years--and you know what? He still buys me size 20 pants.
I used to think it was ridiculous for women to cry over such things... that was before I got married.
I used to say it was the wife's fault for marrying someone who can't tell sizes... before I got married.
Now I know.
"Honey." He'll say in that happy, boyishly excited tone. "I got you something."
Two things run through my head at this point--1) uh-oh 2) maybe he got something good this time. Inevitably I get my hopes up.
The worst present I've ever received was actually not clothing.
"You are going to love this!"
He got me so excited. I was practically bouncing when Christmas morning came.
It was two boxes. I opened the big one first (because big presents are rarely as good as small ones).
It was a remote controlled car.
"It's great isn't it?" My husband of three years asked me. I stared at him as he finished unwrapping it.
Then he handed me the next one. "Hurry, open it."
I hesitated, I had honestly thought this was a new camera, but I was beginning to rethink that assumption (you know what happens when people assume, don't you?). It was a battery for the car.
Yep. That's what happens when you're married. It's not really a matter of marrying the right man. It's more a matter of marrying a MAN.
They just don't think the way women do. I could almost equate it to taking a child shopping for a friends birthday, they always buy what they want.
One time he did, honestly try... and that's the time I cried. I had been out with friends watching a monumentally sappy love story and when I got home I was filled with an overabundance of love for him.
"I love you!" I exclaimed passionately.
"I love you too." He said equally as fervent. "And I bought you something."
What a man, I thought to myself. Without hesitation I ripped the bag open. It was a pair of Arizona State capris (Sparky sitting neatly on the side of my behind). I lifted them excitedly into the air and unfolded them.
"Honey!" I cried out, "what size do you think I am?"
His face went from giddy to guarded in .02 seconds.
Poor guy, he didn't understand why I burst into tears. He didn't understand why I would barely talk to him for the rest of the night. It wasn't his fault that I'm a woman and full of inexplicable, uncontrollable emotions.
As the years have gone past I've learned to deal with these 'presents' I just smile, pat his arm and take them down to my sewing machine.... hoping that at some point in our lives I don't actually fit into the clothes he buys me.
And to me, that's what wife-ing is all about. Learning to deal with the idiosyncrasies that make men what they are.... all logic.
My friends tell me I should just buy him things I want for his birthday. I can't do that, because in all honesty I know that he's trying his hardest and I sure do love the effort.