Last week, I saw a post on Facebook that I liked and shared on my timeline. It was one of those posts with a picture and some words. The words read, “Women are made to be loved, not understood.” I found the caption to be humorous and insightful, but my wife didn’t. Within a few moments, I receieved a text from her asking why I posted that picture. Did I not understand her, did she do something to make me not understand her?
Let me point out that I have known my wife for more than two decades. I know my wife. I know her birthday, her social security number, her favorite color, and the color of her eyes. I know what to say to make her smile and what not to say, because it makes her unhappy. Apparently I can add one more thing to the unhappy list. Despite all the things I know about my wife, and all the many things I understand, there are things I still do not understand.
I know my wife likes cards. Very early in our relationship it became quite clear that one of the ways she demonstrates her love is in the giving of cards. This was not true of me, but I quickly learned to show her affection by giving her cards. In those early days of our relationship, before cellphones, we would talk on the land line phone during our lunch breaks. During one particular conversation, it was clear Beloved was not having a very good day. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, I considered how to make her feel better. Soon, a plan emerged, and when work was over, I put it into action.
Beloved rode home from work with me at that time. When I went to pick her up, I quickly found a parking spot and hurried into the basement of the building where she worked. I rushed into the bookstore conveniently located in the basement level and scanned the small section of greeting cards in the center of the store. I found the perfect one, It had some teddy bears on the front along with some affectionate words. I grabbed it and opened it up to makes sure it wasn’t one of those gag cards with the picture of some horrid biker guy and some awkward words scrawled across the top. Thankfully, the affectionate words continued and there were more teddy bears inside. I didn’t have time to accurately read them, but it was a card, teddy bears, and affectionate words. How could that go wrong?
I made my purchase, scurried back out to the car, signed my name, put the card in the envelope, wrote Beloved’s name on the envelope and laid it on the dash of the car for her to see when she got in. And I did it just in the nick of time. She sat down and when she saw that card she gave me that smile that gives me warm fuzzies inside.
As we pulled into traffic, Beloved let out an unexplainable sound I shall not forget. It was a cross between a loud laugh and a gasp of horror. I looked over at her, very concerned. She was aghast as she said, “Father’s Day? You bought me a Father’s Day card?!”
I don’t understand why my wife likes cards so much, even if they are Father’s day cards, but I know her, and more importantly, love her. Men smarter than I have spent years researching the human psyche and have but scratched the surface. How can I expect to understand the wonderful, complicated, exciting woman I have decided to spend my life with? I cannot, but I love her.
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