Tonight I am grateful for my wife, who turned to me about an hour ago and asked if I was planning on going to the Super Bowl if the Patriots win next Sunday and make it to the big game. Even though my daughter’s birthday party is scheduled for that Sunday morning and the tickets and flight to Indianapolis would not be inexpensive, she simply asked if I was planning on going.
Not to talk about it.
Not to debate it.
Not to convince me not to go.
Just out of curiosity.
I had yet to raise the issue of going to the game, not because I was avoiding it or concerned with her possible response, but because I knew that she wouldn’t stand in my way of going and would understand completely.
No anger. No guilt. No outrage.
I know many a husband who would have to ask permission to go to the Super Bowl, and only then after carefully timing their request to some particular bit of good news.
Some would even have to trade the trip to the Super Bowl for some other equitable future privilege, as if there is an invisible scoreboard looming over their relationship, keeping tally of who gets what.
My wife would never place me in a position to ask permission for anything, nor would I require her to ever ask permission.
I can’t even imagine why any wife would want to place her husband in that kind of subservient, emasculating position.
Tonight I am grateful for my wife, as I am every day. She is the perfect wife for me and the perfect wife in general, and I cannot help but think of myself as the luckiest guy in the world.
I can’t tell you how incredible it is to think and believe this on a daily basis.