How To Keep Your Wife Happy During That Time Of Month

Last week I was filled with delight at my wife's approach to life.

On Friday we went out for lunch. My wife insisted. At 11:30 she called the teen girls who live in our neighborhood and do our babysitting, told them I was taking her to lunch, to which they said "awwww..." and hurried over. At 11:35 she called me to inform me I was taking her out for a burger.

A burger, she believed, was only her due after the way I'd treated her that week. What had I done wrong? A thing for which I heard not the end of it all day every day from Tuesday until Friday, when I finally took wifey out.

I've been raving about the Bacon Bros hamburger for a few weeks now. The patty is one-third ground bacon. I go on about it to just about everyone I meet, and find excuses to go eat one. I'd been telling a co-worker about this thing for a while, so last Tuesday I decided to surprise Ken the Co-Worker by bringing him a little something from Bacon Bros. I even posted a picture of the burgers, which had been wrapped in foil to look like turkeys, on Twitter.

Baby mama was pissed when I got home.

She'd never had this burger I talk about so much. Why had it never occurred to me to bring her one, while the Kens of the world were having burgers brought to them in magical turkey foil? Obviously, there was no good response to that question. The message was clear: I had failed her.

Obviously I wasn't going to humble myself and go get her a Bacon Bros burger right away. That move is still a couple of husbanding levels above me.

All day Tuesday, all day Wednesday, all day Thursday, all I heard about was Ken. Maybe I'd take out the garbage if Ken were here. Maybe I'd cook dinner if Ken were coming. Maybe if Ken..., maybe if Ken... All day.

On Friday she released me from punishment and we went to Bacon Bros together.

Let's understand why she was so passionate about having this burger. It wasn't just the way I'd described it. It wasn't that I was eating it all the time while she wasn't. It wasn't even that Ken had gotten one and she hadn't.

The biggest driving force behind her burger-rage was the time of month that week had fallen on. Mama was suffering from a lack of iron. Spinach just wasn't cutting it. Mama needed a chunk of beef to make things better. So there we were.

My party girl.
She devoured the burger, said it had too much bacon, ate all her fries (which have no iron, I don't know what her deal was), and some of her onion rings.

Baby, I'm sorry I deprived you for a week.

After she finished her burger, she daintily wiped her lips, looked me in the eyes, and said, "We should go buy a case of Guinness. I'm going to need that iron."

Mama, I'm so in love with you.

The lesson I've learned here is: during that special time, keep Mama high in iron. But time it right. It's a dangerous game, but worth it. Apparently if you wait long enough, it won't be salad that you're eating. It'll be beef and beer.


Post a Comment