At first it was endearing, then irritating, then she realized it was just part of the same trait that made her love him so much.
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From the minute we said “I do,” something happened to my husband: he began starting every sentence with “where.”
“Where’s my wallet?” “Where did I put the keys?” “Where are my favorite jeans?”
Are you sure you don’t have my skill saw?” “What’s a skill saw?” I asked.
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Occasionally, he’d mix it up. “What happened to the mustard I like?” “Have you seen my debit card?” “ Are you sure you don’t have my skill saw?”
“What’s a skill saw?” I asked.
This wonderful guy I had dated for nearly three years, the one whose competence drew me in—-along with many other great qualities—-was changing on me.
◊♦◊
I remember the first time I saw him, the last person to board a crowded airplane, and the frenzied flight attendants urging him to take the first available seat so we could take off. When I looked up from my newspaper and saw his leisurely pace and polite, unhurried demeanor, I had to smile. This guy was living in his own world and seemingly oblivious to the stress in people around him. It was extremely attractive, and even though he sat down four rows up from me, I knew that eventually we would have a conversation. I didn’t know that I would quit my job, move to the west coast, and marry the guy.
For a while, this situation was kind of cute. As a new wife, it made me feel needed and valued.
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Gary is easy to be around, and at first, I didn’t even notice that I was keeping track of everything he owned. “Where’s my wallet,” he’d ask, and I’d wander out to our jeep and retrieve it for him. He’d heard that men who sit on their wallets get back problems, and I correctly guessed that he’d removed his from his pocket while driving.
“Where did I put the keys?” I went into the garage, his first stop on the way into the house, and found the keys next to the work sink, right next to a pile of mail and the jar of honey I’d asked him to pick up on his way home from the hardware store.
Gary was always delighted that I could put my hands on anything he was looking for. “You’re magic,” he’d say, and I’d soak in the praise.
For a while, this situation was kind of cute. As a new wife, it made me feel needed and valued. But sometimes it wasn’t convenient for me to drop what I was doing to dig a condiment out of the refrigerator or show him again where we keep the can opener.
I thought about our situation and potential solutions. The wallet and keys were the worst culprits, but anything was fair game. Once, he even asked “where’s the milk?” Generally, we store it in a semitransparent gallon-sized plastic container in the door of the refrigerator which is designed to hold milk. Really, you can’t miss it.
◊♦◊
I tried anticipating what he might need and then having it out for him, but that didn’t work. I’d get out his grey sweatshirt, and he’d want the red one. Or I set the keys out to our car, and he’d need the truck that day.
One night, I told him we needed to talk. “You’re ‘where’ thing is becoming an issue,” I said. I took him by the hand and led him to a spot in the kitchen drawer which I had cleared out just for him.
“It’s for your keys and wallet. Could you try to put them here the minute you walk into the house? That way, you’ll always know where they are.” He embraced the idea, called it ‘brilliant’ even, and it clearly seemed like he was as eager to please me as I was to please him.
For a few days, every time I saw his wallet or keys in weird places—-under the couch, for example, or in the bottom of his tool box, I’d put them in the kitchen drawer.
“Wow, this really works.” Gary said as he was dashing out the door, keys and wallet in hand. “Just like magic,” I said, although in truth, I wasn’t feeling it.
After all, the very quality I found so attractive the first time I saw my husband is the same quality that compels him to forget to put his keys away.
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I tried reversing the situation, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Honey, have you seen my purse?” He shut off the TV and helped me look. “Where’s my drivers’ license?” I asked. He mumbled that I should check my wallet. “Are you sure you don’t have my lip stick? It was right here.” He didn’t get it.
One day, I just couldn’t take it anymore. “Where’s my wallet?” he said. I turned up the radio and pretended not to hear, listening instead to him clomping around the house overturning piles of things while he searched. Eventually, the clomping stopped. I smiled.
Later that afternoon, when he was looking for his flash drive, I dashed out to run an errand, and by the time I got back, the drive had surfaced.
The next day, when he needed keys to get to work, I had gone for an unprecedented morning jog.
Eventually, Gary got better at putting things away, and I got used to the idea that important stuff would sometimes be hiding in weird places. After all, the very quality I found so attractive the first time I saw my husband is the same quality that compels him to forget to put his keys away. He is the guy I picked, and guy I would pick again every time.
Now and then, a “where” still pops up. But when it does, I try to remember that it’s good to be needed. In fact, it’s the closest thing to magic I know.
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This post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock
Nice article. I like how you cleverly found ways to be unavailable so he would eventually become more self-reliable.
Great article! It’s very familiar, although in our case, I’m the one misplacing my keys and asking my husband to help find them. We both got a kick out of your story.
A great story–how your husband needed you so much and your clever ways of you needing him. Enjoyed it!