I was sitting on the couch at home last night, talking to my wife about stewed prunes while I picked my nose, and suddenly I received a Facebook message from an editor who informed me that he wanted to include my oldest book (Before You Say "I Do") in the bibliography of a romance guide for married couples. I was skeptical--in much the same way Becky is skeptical when I tell her that I have made plans for Friday night--but I shot a message back.
As it turns out, the editor was wanting to use my book as a "give-away" on a "romantic network" and has been using my book for some time to help couples talk about marriage (rather than a wedding). It's all on the up-and-up, a Christian organization, even--and I was glad to be of service and will be sending him more copies in the mail.
But beyond the books themselves, I'm glad that someone finally recognized my romantic prowess. I am, after all, the husband who invented Wendy's date night and pillow talk during Gomer Pyle reruns. Believe me, if my wife can be turned on while Sergeant Carter is screaming, you can do it with a bottle of wine and soft music. I've even worked my magic with Aunt Bee and Opie (and sometimes Otis Campbell). Furthermore, when I do take my wife out to a fancy restaurant like Taco Bell, I blow her mind.
We discussed this last night.
"What do you think of me being chosen as a romantic expert? I mean, I'll be providing advice to millions of couples who are looking to have a marriage like ours!" I said.
"You're no Jack Kennedy," she said.
"But think of it," I continued, "the accolades, the cheers, the book sales."
"I'll believe it when I see it," she told me. "When are you going to start this romance? We've been married twenty-seven years and all you've done so far is cook up Hamburger Helper . . . and most of the time, you serve it cold."
"What about that time I took you to Acron, Ohio to the National Walnut Museum?" I pointed out. "And what about those white hot nights during that three day power outage in Noblesville?"
"That was twenty-two years ago," she said. "And I was pregnant."
"Touche!"
I don't want to hear any more talk about my romantic expertise. It's going to my head. That's why I've been stepping back from the brink for the past twenty-two years. I don't want to get too romantic.
My wife couldn't handle me.
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