When my wife said she wanted to talk to me about a very serious matter, I could tell it was a conversation that probably wasn’t going to end well.
I guess after spending the past 17 years together, you kind of get a sense for those types of things.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw her, probably because it was love at first sight. She was so soft, so welcoming and so inviting. I knew then — just as I know now — she had to be mine. We would begin living together under one roof after we were married and from that day forward we spent nearly every day together. We were inseparable. I’ve had some of my favorite moments with her. I can’t tell you how many nights I fell asleep in her welcoming embrace.
But after awhile, things became worn and frayed. She could no longer support me in quite the same way she once did. I guess time does that to a relationship. If I’m going to be entirely truthful about the matter, it eventually got to the point at which I didn’t even recognize her anymore. Things just weren’t the same. I’ll admit it, there were times when we would go to other people’s houses and I would covet what the man who lived there had. Sometimes I’d even sleep with his. I’m pretty sure my wife was doing much the same from time to time.
And now, after talking honestly and earnestly with my wife, I realize that it’s best if we just move on with things.
It is with great remorse that my wife and I announce we are getting a new couch in our family room.
Wait … what did you think I was talking about?
When my beautiful wife — to whom I am happily married and hope to stay that way for some time to come (hopefully, she doesn’t read the first few paragraphs of this column) — got married, one of our first purchases together was a couch for our house. When we went shopping, I sat down on a number of couches to test them out, but when I sat on that blue couch, I knew immediately she was the one.
She felt so perfect and right. I knew we were meant to be together.
And we’ve spent the past 17 years together, which I’m guessing is a lot longer than most couches tend to last. Part of that, I’m sure, is my insistence that we keep said couch longer after my wife began insisting we get rid of it.
Personally, I see no reason to get rid of our couch. I love our couch. It’s always been there for me every night when I get home from work. Some of the best moments of my life have come on that couch. I’ve held my infant children in my arms and fed them on that couch. I’ve eaten some of my favorite meals on that couch. I’ve watched thousands of hours of television programming on that couch. I’ve laughed and cried on that couch. I’ve spent many nights on that couch (which I’ll probably do again if my wife ever sees this column).
Let’s just say I don’t deal with change particularly well.
As such, I would love to keep that couch at least another 10 years or so. But my wife is quick to point out that the cushions are tearing open and spilling their insides. I think that just gives it character. She also points out that there are spots where the springs in the couch are starting to poke through the fabric. In my mind, you only get stabbed if you don’t know how to sit on the couch. She would point out the deep canyon that rests in the middle portion of the couch. She obviously has never noticed how my posterior fits perfectly into that spot.
But, as is the case with most things around the Fong household, I know I’m eventually going to have to give in to my wife (which is largely how we’ve managed to stay married the past 17 years).
My wife is tired of the couch and it has got to go.
I just hope she never comes to the same conclusion about me (which is entirely possible, should she ever see this column).
David Fong writes for the Troy Daily News, a division of Aim Media Midwest.