It’s no secret that there’s no secret to successful relationships. Keeping the emotional credit good with the wife is, for me anyway, not that difficult really. You don’t even have to understand the great mystery that is ‘woman’. If there is one of course. When I told someone my theory recently they told me I should write it down. This is a wee bit of a whirl to see what it looks like on paper.
A close friend put me onto the simple formula and for over ten years it’s held me in exceptional stead. I go and get bevvied when I want or need to. I get to spend time with my mates, she shows me great patience (most of the time) and I get a boating trip and a football trip away a year. I know. Hey my wife’s no door mat. She’s a fiercely strong, independent, intelligent, shining example of a good person. I stand in awe of her ability to run a business and a home. I don’t need to suck up her arse either. I’m telling you this same as I tell her. So what about this secret stuff?
It’s simple, I appreciate her. And I tell her. She’s amazing. She should know. So every few weeks I buy flowers. Not for any other reason than she’s a wee sweetie. I never apologise with flowers – it removes any goodness in them. If it’s not the flowers it’s a tub of her favourite of the 31 flavours or a wee CD I know she fancies. Here, this is no sucking up, it’s much less peurile and far more constructive. When I roll in from the casino at daybreak on a schoolnight – it’s only happened once this year so far – and wake her up breaking open the fridge to make a buffet breakfast, she doesn’t even bat an eyelid. She sits back and laughs at me. The credit’s in the bank innit? I’m good for it. She’s happy that I’m happy and I’m happy that I put the effort into keeping things right in the first place. I even get to mong on the couch and give my hangover a proper nursing in peace. Or a sore knee and a torn pair of jeans if we were to take my latest falling over into account.
When I come good, I tell her thanks and she say’s no problem and we resume the patterns of our busy days. Like I said, it’s hardly the makings of a secret formula or some kind of world turning revelation. There’s no doubt my life could be simpler, but it’s not. What I do, with a wee bit of effort, is make it easier.
As for getting yer Nat King Cole… the same rules apply. Were you expecting me to say, that’s a different story?
2 Comments
October 13, 2009 at 7:13 am
Lovely, Lee. Look after your main squeeze and they’ll look after you too.
October 13, 2009 at 8:23 am
Thanks Chris. Clearly yer good husband piece was in the back of my mind somewhere too.