Hey, happy 2026! How’s everybody doin’? Sorry I haven’t written lately; it’s because I just spent the last six months or so working hard each and every day to make my wife happy (in my mind!) Carrie, of course, would likely see it differently, if she had a platform on which to express her sentiments.

So here’s the thing. To me, making my wife happy means allowing her to decide what I should wear, where we should eat, what we should do, and so on. And I get it.. she wants me to look my best, to be healthy, and have fun! Yet, like most men, I don’t pay much attention to any of that. So a conversation between a man and his wife likely sounds something like this:

Husband: I’m ready to go out now.

Wife: You’re wearing THAT??? (choose from the following: shirt, pants, socks, shoes. That about covers it.)

Husband: Hey, I LOVE this (shirt, pants, socks, shoes). It’s so comfortable. But to make you happy, I’ll change.

Wife: I can’t believe you actually thought you could wear that outside of the house!

I’m sure you women out there can spot the problem immediately. I had to be shown the light.

First, It seems that in certain circumstances, it’s OK to wear a navy blue sweater with blue jeans, but not with black pants. Also, flannel apparently is never appropriate for anything, at any time. I never knew this until Carrie showed me what an absolute ASS I’ve been when it comes to dressing myself. So here I say, if I’ve offended anyone with my wardrobe choices over the years, I most sincerely apologize. In this case, ignorance IS my excuse.

Apparently, Carrie is not alone among women who desire their men to make decisions for things like where we should eat and what I should wear, but want to retain veto power. To my simple mind, we should be able to stop this charade by women simply telling their men what they want upfront. But no.. the game goes on.

Then, there’s the not small matter of where to dine on a Saturday night.

Wife: “What do you want to do for dinner?”

Husband: “I don’t care. Whatever you want is fine.”

Wife: Grrrrrr.

The husband says: “You really want me to tell you what I want to do for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“You really want me to tell you what I want to do for dinner.” (Spoken with the inflection of Billy Gambini in “My Cousin Vinny” when he says “I shot the clerk!”)

“Yes already. I’m getting hangry”

“Well then, when I lived in Texas, I loved eating chicken fried steak, with some tasty cream-ish gravy on top. Let’s have that.”

“No.”

Now, this is what we writers call an aside. (To my Long Island friends who might not know, chicken fried steak is basically a breaded salisbury steak, or a very thin piece of some kind of beef, that’s deep fried, or maybe pan fried, and served with fried french fries and a not-fried thick white gravy of unknown origin, likely very high in fat. I ate that quite a bit in the early ’80s because it was SO tasty, and because I hadn’t really yet understood the meaning of cardiology.)

Anyway, back to the conversation:

“Pick something else.”

“Well, how about Greek?”

“We had that last week.”

“Italian?”

“Red sauce gives me heartburn.”

“So, let’s recap: You asked me what I wanted and I told you. And then you vetoed it … three times. I’m out of ideas. What do you want?”

“FOR YOU TO JUST ONCE… ONCE! MAKE A FUCKING DECISION!”

“I thought I just did.”

“SIGH”

Or, there’s this:

Wife: (as we’re approaching a turn): “Are you going to turn here?”

Husband: “Well, I was going to go straight, but Yes, if that will make you happy.” (doing a two-lane sweep to avoid passing the intersection, while avoiding both traffic in the lanes to the left as well as oncoming cars).

Husband (as next intersection approaches): “Do you want me to turn here or go straight? I just want to make you happy.”

Wife: “SIGH!” (under breath: “Asshole!”)

And friends, that explodes the myth of “happy wife, happy life.” Another episode of life’s “Conundrums and Paradoxes,” brought to you by… “honey, what sponsor would you like me to choose!”

“Asshole.”