So my wedding anniversary is coming up, and that always makes me
reflect on our marriage.
So my wedding anniversary is coming up, and that always makes me reflect on our marriage. I take an afternoon and think about what we’ve done in the previous year to keep the romance alive and what we should do in the coming year to preserve the beauty of our love forever. And then I create a handmade card and embellish it with lace and hearts and quotes from poems that Harry and I have recited to each other each night before we go to sleep.
Oh, fine. I’m lying. What I really do is sit around and wonder what Harry should get me for a gift.
Hey, it’s not that I’m materialistic or anything. It’s just that nothing says “I love you” more than a big present. Preferably one that sparkles when the sun hits it. You know, like a diamond. Oh, wait. Maybe I am materialistic. That’s a shocker.
Anyway, this year I decided I prefer something a bit less sparkly. Well, I don’t actually, but the economy does kind of stink at the moment. So I decided I wanted roses. Now just so you don’t think I’m a “gimme, gimme” kind of person, I’ll tell you this: I have the petals from every single rose Harry has ever given me. I keep them in two large vases in my closet.
And those petals are pretty dusty. Which means it’s been a long, long time since Harry has given me a rose. So I tried to think back to the very last time I had received flowers of any kind from him. And frankly, nothing recent came to mind, unless you count last weekend when he was deadheading the rose bushes in the backyard and he asked me to toss the dead ones in the yard waste bin.
Yeah, no. I’m not counting that.
Anyway, it became obvious that something had to change. So I wracked my tiny, materialistic, shiny-object-coveting brain and I came up with this: the mystery was gone from our relationship. Of course, that was bound to happen. After all, we’ve shared a bathroom for many years. Once you start doing that, there aren’t very many mysteries left.
So I decided to put the mystery and the romance back in our relationship by giving Harry hints on what I wanted for our anniversary. (Yes, I am nothing if not self-centered.) That very evening, before dinner, we had the following conversation:
Me: “Did you notice those vases in the closet?”
Harry: “What vases?”
Me: “The ones in the closet filled with dusty stuff?”
Harry: “What? What are you talking about? There’s dusty stuff in all of our closets.”
Me: “No, there isn’t. And anyway I’m talking about very specific dusty stuff.”
Harry: “The designer shoes you had to have off eBay that turned out to be fake?”
Me: “No! And there was no way of knowing if they were real.”
Harry: “Yeah, because fancy designer shoes always cost 99 cents and ship from Romania.”
Well, obviously I had my work cut out for me. Getting the mystery back in our relationship was going to be a lot harder than I thought. Clearly Harry wasn’t cooperating. Since I had to make a drastic move, I took the vases out and scattered the petals on our bed. And the next night, when Harry got in bed, we had the following conversation:
Harry: “ACHOO! What the heck … ACHOO … is crunching in … ACHOO … the bed?”
Me: “Rose petals, honey. From all the roses you’ve ever given me.”
Harry: “ACHOO!” Are you trying to kill me … ACHOO … with them?”
So I confessed. I told him that I was just trying to be romantic and put some mystery back in our marriage. And Harry looked at me, with tears streaming down his eyes from the constant sneezing and he said, “Laurie, the mystery is still there. I never know what the hell you’re talking about.”
So how about that? The mystery was there all along. I just didn’t see it. Of course, if I had gotten a rose or two every once in a while, I might have looked harder. Not that I’m a “gimme, gimme” person, of course.
