Coonridge Digest: What romance?

Greetings from the Ridge.

"Herb, has the romance gone out of our marriage?"

"What romance?"

"That’s what I was afraid of."

"Freida, I’m gonna go pick you up a card this afternoon. Don’t worry."

"Save your money, Herb. Just write me a note."

"What should I say?"

"You see? That’s just the problem. I could give a toot what some copywriter for Hallmark thinks about me. Make it personal."

"I’ll sign my name."

"Cards cost too much. Anybody would rather have a personal note than an overpriced piece of cardboard."

"Freida, I know that Valentine’s Day is comin’ and I know it’s always a big deal to you, but I wish that for once you’d wait until somethin’ happens before you start worryin’ about it."

"Huh?"

"I love the members of your fair sex dearly but I am confounded by the way a woman will worry herself to death about things that in all likelihood ain’t never gonna happen. I think it’s hormonal."

"Did it ever occur to you that we’ve got to start worrying early because we know that men won’t even think about the problem until it’s passed?"

"A man just doesn’t waste his time worryin’ about matters that he knows his wife will have thoroughly covered by the time it gets here."

"Herb, did you see those folks in the restaurant last night? I could tell how long they’d been married by the amount of conversation at supper. There were two couples who didn’t say a word all night."

"I heard ’em mumble somethin’."

"’Pass the salt’ is not a love sonnet, Herb."

"It’s a start."

"And ninety percent of the time it’s the man who starts shuttin’ off the conversation… somewhere between the honeymoon and the second anniversary."

"You’ve studied this?"

"Don’t have to. I live with you. I spend my entire day in the research lab of matrimonial apathy."

"That’s harsh, Freida, and normally I’d take this opportunity to go out for coffee. But since I’ve lived with you long enough to know you won’t let a dead dog lie, I’ll discuss it."

"You just mixed your metaphors."

"My stomach’s upset and the Democrats are winnin’ in the polls… it’s been a bad winter. Let me continue."

"The floor is yours, Einstein."

"A man…you see, a man don’t need to constantly express what he’s feelin’. He shows it by the way he lives."

"Since when?"

"But a woman… she needs this constant affirmation. Admit it, Freida, it’s a weakness in your sex. Insecurity."

"You’re trying to make excuses for the male inability to communicate on the woman’s insecurity?"

"I’m just statin’ facts. If you gotta constantly go around sayin’ you love somebody then I gotta wonder whether you really mean it."

"When was the last time you told me you loved me?"

"Last Sunday."

"You’re kidding? I must have missed it."

"During the Sharing of the Peace in church. Pastor O’Reilly told us to stand up and tell somebody we loved ’em."

"You said it to Mrs. Laken sitting behind us."

"You were in the neighborhood. You could have heard it."

"Then you told me you liked my new coat. You didn’t mention love."

"I was just gettin’ specific. I hate meaningless generalities. By the way, whatever happened to Saint Valentine?"

"He was beaten then beheaded by the Emporer Claudius."

"I rest my case."

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.