I Have a Sirius Problem
After 11 years of marriage, Cap’n Firepants has gotten pretty good at taking hints, and I’ve gotten better at giving them. Okay, threatening words written in red lipstick on the bathroom mirror might not exactly fall into the precise definition of hinting as most people see it. But I think that there are different levels for men and for women.
Anyway, the biggest test of communication between lovers is Valentine’s Day. It’s like the Hinting Final Exam. For the last couple of years, the Cap’n has passed it with flying colors. He knows that even though I agree with him that Valentine’s Day is a Hallmark Created Holiday, I still expect some kind of Romantic Gesture. Let’s face it, if men don’t have Romantic Gesture deadlines, Romantic Gestures would become extinct.
The Cap’n also knows that I am only big on getting flowers on un-holidays. When he brings them home for my birthday or Valentine’s Day, I consider it an I Couldn’t Think of Anything Else cop-out.
This year, the Cap’n gave me my gift the night before Valentine’s Day. To prove, I am guessing, that he did not wait until the last minute.
And it was a gift about which I had fiercely hinted. Although, if you asked him, he would probably tell you he thought of it all on his own.
So, my gift is a Sirius Satellite Dock & Play for my car.
I know. You are thinking that is so not romantic. But the Cap’n knows, from years of experience, that the way to my heart is either a bulldog puppy or electronics. And he has no intention of ever going the bulldog route again, as he likes to inform me on a regular basis.
So, I was thrilled with the Sirius because I’ve been a tad jealous of his new car with seat warmers, Bluetooth, GPS, and satellite radio. And the more I ride in his car commercial-free, the more I hate my stereo and my 6 CD-changer that plays the same dang songs over and over again because I keep forgetting to switch out the 5 CD’s I put in there two years ago.
We just paid off my car, and I don’t want a new one. So, this was the perfect solution, as I have been stating loud and clear for about six months.
When I pulled it out of the box and saw the packet of instructions for installing it, my zeal for the gift quickly disappeared.
“Did you know you have to put an antenna on the roof, and route the wire through the weatherstripping, under the carpet, and back to the radio? And it’s best to plug it in to my auxiliary input, which is in the glove box?” (Don’t ask me why Toyota put the aux input in the glove box. This is why I don’t play my iPod in the car, either.)
“We can get someone to install it,” the Cap’n said in a reasonable tone.
“But it’s still not going to be permanent. There’s going to be wires everywhere. Besides someone is going to steal it.”
Keep in mind. He got me exactly what I wanted. And suddenly I don’t want it anymore. Apparently, hinting that I don’t want something is easier than the other way around.
“We can take it back,” he said. I’m pretty sure whathemeant2say is, “You are impossible to please.”
How much do you think it would cost to get a butt-warmer in the seats instead?
(BTW, notquiteold has a very funny post on men who don’t take hints that I highly recommend!)