The Muddled Male




Just a Romantic

 Bob Stevens, the Muddled Male

 

 Ann, my wife, claims that I approach romance like an engineer.  I, on the other hand, assume that every date needs a map so that the couple won't get lost, a flow chart of events to make certain that the evening goes smoothly by being well planned, a checklist to make certain that important things aren't forgotten, a pocket protector to hold a variety of pens and pencils with which to take notes, and a calculator to determine the appropriate amount to tip in case the couple ends the evening by going out to dinner. 

      In spite of that I'm really not as bad as Ann claims.  After all I regularly take her to Sam's Club and treat her to the free samples they give out in the afternoon and early evening.  It's just that she is carrying a grudge over the Valentine Day present I gave her early in our marriage.  How was I to know that a pair of work gloves, fifty feet of. garden hose, a spray nozzle, and a pair of trimmers didn't fit her definition of a romantic gift.  I have since claimed that even if we were living in an apartment and couldn't use them right away, we could have kept them as part of our 72-hour kit. 

      Well for this year's Valentine Day I out did myself in the romance department.  Do you remember the feral kitten that Ann rescued from the cold under our deck and named Tuffy?  And then she realized that we were gone too often to properly care for him and pleaded with our friend Mel to allow the kitten to take up residence in Mel's barn?  Well, the kitten is now a cat and has reached courting age, an age at which we promised Mel that we would arrange to have the cat "adjusted" in a way that would eliminate any propensity to father feline posterity.  Where I ran into trouble was that engineers love to work on processes that reduce the cost of doing things by increasing efficiency, and it dawned on me that I could combine Tuffy's treatment with my Valentine Day gift to Ann.  So I told her that I was going to take her for pizza, her favorite food, and then to Arctic Circle for a small banana-strawberry shake with two spoons, my favorite food.  Now how much more romantic can a husband be?  But then I told her that on the way we could drop Tuffy off at the Animal Hospital and on the way back we could pick him up for the ride home, thus accomplishing two tasks in a single trip. 

      She didn't say anything, but I think I know what she was thinking.  And by the way, Tuffy isn't speaking to me either.

Bob Stevens