Not All Women Can BE Surprised, Let Alone Like It

 

Earlier this year was my 42nd wedding anniversary with Beloved. In that time, I have learned many a lesson about human husbandry. The story that follows is how I learned to just give up trying to surprise the woman I love.

Once upon the early Eighties, I was a married college student with one daughter, studying to become a youth minister at a Bible college in Cincinnati, Ohio. (From whence springeth my undying devotion to Skyline Chili.)

In one class session, my youth ministry professor, Rave Streetmug, gave us a plethora of ideas for making our personal visits with the teenagers that would soon be within our spiritual care something memorable. One of those ideas was to take them to McDonald's for a Coke and a conversation...but take along a tablecloth and candles and cloth napkins and glistening stemware to create a semi-formal atmosphere.

I thought that sounded hilarious and that I could use it not only in the context of making a memorable visit with my future youth group members but in livening up a date with Beloved; a date that had to be cheap (see "married college student with one daughter", above).

I secretly gathered the required props: a piece of gold lame' cloth to use as a table covering, a white candle, a gold-leaf candle holder, glasses that didn't have cartoon characters on them...

I printed out an invitation for "a private, semi-formal evening in the company of the man who adores you" and got her to RSVP six days in advance.

The magic evening arrived. I had surreptitiously placed the props in our car's trunk. I had appropriately complimented my bride's beauty and was opening the door to our apartment for her when she said, "We better not be going to McDonald's or something."

The silence that followed was interrupted by the sound of my balloon of hope being deflated with a decidedly flatulent tone.