The Man I Love (Don’t Expect Romance Here)

A little over a week ago, I ended up in the doctor’s office, trying to eradicate a persistent sinus infection. LCB, feeling gallant, had offered to drive me despite the fact that, while sick, I was still fully capable of getting my sorry little self a few miles down the road.

It was a sweet gesture, so I let the man I love drive Miss Daisy to the doctor. While I was in the office, LCB found himself with an undetermined amount of time to kill. Not surprisingly, he headed to a nearby T.J. Maxx and did what he does best: He scoured the clearance racks.

When we got home and I had downed my first dose of meds, praying all the while for a super cure that would allow me to teach in a non-death-warmed-over state the next day, he unveiled his stash.

Some men show a macho pride over their cars or their stereo systems; for LCB, one of his biggest sources of pride is when he scores a deal. (I’ve often wondered what, based on this truth, a psychologist would say about his choice in a wife.)

Of his purchases, there were two interesting ones to note. The first was a black Nike jacket that happened to be the very same jacket I had contemplated buying him for Christmas a few weeks earlier. I didn’t buy it, only because he is this freakish human specimen who is annoyingly never, ever, ever cold. Seriously, if he shivers, I start mentally reviewing the steps of CPR, because I know something is insanely wrong. So, I didn’t get the jacket, figuring he’d probably never wear it. Naturally, then, without a wife to suggest it for him, he suddenly determined that he could use a light jacket. Thus, as I found out later that night, while various medical utensils were being shoved down my throat, in T.J. Maxx Baby-girl was working unknowingly on my behalf. Afterward, LCB confirmed that she had steered him away from a jacket that he conceded “looked rather 80s” and toward the same jacket I had originally chosen for him.

With much pride and not a little awe, I submit to you the following facts: Baby-girl was not with me when I shopped for LCB last month, and had no knowledge of my even considering a jacket for him.

Let’s all just take a moment here.

The second interesting purchase is this.

They’re headphones reported to cancel out noise. Now, those of you who know LCB via this blog (or real life) can probably guess where I’m going with this one. LCB, his wife-designated pseudonym, stands for Loquacious Cabana Boy. Loquacious is basically a more gracious way of saying my husband talks all the darn time, most especially during times when silence is the socially-appropriate practice or when there’s nothing more to be said on the matter. For further explanation and various examples of the staggering impact this has had on my life lo these many years, see Latin I and approximately 37% of my posts.  

Here’s the funny part: He actually was under the impression that he had purchased the headphones for himself.

I know.

So I quickly shared the gospel with the man I love and informed him of How Things Were Going To Go Down.

He handed over the headphones.

Tonight, therefore, as I sat down to write this post, I decided to try them out.

Y’all, I suspect a good sticker would have done more to reduce the sounds of LCB’s obnoxious little remarks made solely “for testing purposes.” I didn’t really want to ask LCB about the science behind the headphones, nor about what “active noise cancelation” means, nor about why they appeared to be ineffective; clearly, that would have elicited a lengthy, geeked-out explanation, so I searched the internet instead. This proved futile, as the explanations involved exposure to my personal kryptonite, i.e. science.  

Oh, and if he reads this later and tries to suggest it was operator error?

Then heaven help the man I love.