third anniversary

It was three years ago Wednesday that Linette and I got hitched.


I’m not much of one for tradition, but, knowing that this was our “scissor” anniversary, I slipped out at lunch the other day and picked up a fine pair for her. They’re all silver, with four-inch, pointy blades. No cheap plastic handles or snub-nosed safety scissors for my girl.

“Only the best for Mrs. Mark Maynard.” That’s what I say.

(That, by the way, was a joke. I find the practice of saying “Mrs. Man’s Name” to be more than just a little offensive. Some sexist stuff I don’t really mind so much (i.e. Victoria’s Secret commercials), but I think this crosses a line. Women as sex objects is one thing, women as property is something else.)

I don’t know what anniversary is next, but I don’t like the trend toward increasing expense that I’m seeing. The rock I could handle. The paper was OK. Now with these scissors though, I’ve broken the $20 mark and I’m sensing that there will be no reprieve.

What’s up ahead, a fax machine, livestock, a Hardee’s franchise?

As for this being our third anniversary, it really isn’t. We’ve been living with each other for nearly ten years now. It always pisses Linette off when I say it, but I really feel like we should be getting credit for all of that time. The thought that another couple could have known each other half the time that we have, and yet still get credit for having been married more years, makes me feel like breaking things.

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