Apparently I can’t do much right. I mean, how is a guy to know these things? I gave her a bunch of yellow roses and she said yellow meant “goodbye” – at least in her vocabulary of flowers. I wrapped some white gladiolas in some black tissue paper. I thought it looked stunning and she said that to wrap things in black paper meant everything was over.
It just went on and on. I didn’t know she was allergic to peanuts when I cooked up some Chinese using peanut oil. I didn’t know that years ago her grandfather had drowned and it was insensitive of me to say “Let’s go to the municipal swimming baths on this hot day.” When I asked “Would you like a wine?” I didn’t know her mother was an alcoholic. I didn’t know she had run over her cat when she backed out of her garage. I didn’t know she detested football. I didn’t know that there wasn’t a thing in the world that didn’t upset her. Everything under the sun brought on shocking memories and reactions. I didn’t know she was a Pandora ’s Box of carping whinges.
On and on and on and on and on. I didn’t know at the time that my brother was right when he told me I was a fool to marry her. Good luck to the guy she’s eloped with.