A man and his principles

I'm going to let you in on a little secret about an issue in my marriage, in the hopes that if I make it all public I'll wear my husband right down. I've only got three years left to do this, so, you know, the PRESSURE IS ON.

Do you know what I've been dreaming about for our tenth wedding anniversary? Which is in three years? Room service. Seriously. That's what I want. I want to go away somewhere, say, like, New York City or EUROPE or something, but even just a fancy hotel here will do in a pinch, and I want to order room service. You know -- a tray full of overpriced food delivered right to your room, and you get to eat it right there in bed watching TV (as someone who doesn't watch TV at home, this also excites me. I annoy my husband to death when we stay in hotels because I cannot stop flipping through the channels).

Except that there are few things in the world my husband opposes more than room service. Because he is cheap frugal, and he just doesn't see the allure of paying to have food delivered to your door when you can just get dressed and walk down to the lobby and make your own waffle or whatever. (Note: for our tenth anniversary, I'm kind of thinking I'd like to stay in a place that doesn't have a continental breakfast. Those are great for road trips. I love our road trips. But I'm dreaming big here, folks.) He considers this a ridiculous waste of money. He's probably right, even, but I still want it. I don't know, I might even agree that it's a totally frivolous expense, and I might only want it so much now because he is SO VEHEMENTLY OPPOSED to the idea. This has become our battle.

So I bring it up every now and then. Like on Saturday night, as we drove home from an afternoon in Seattle.

"Baby?" I said. "You know what I was just thinking about?"

"What?"

"In three years, we'll have been married for ten years. You know what I'd really love to do for our tenth anniversary?"

"Here we go."

"Seriously."

"Let me guess. You want to stay somewhere and order room service."

"You don't have to snarl when you say that, you know."

(And here I would type out his response, except that it would be like twenty paragraphs on why room service is a stupid waste of money.)

"Think of it this way," I said. "I'm incredibly low-maintenance in so many ways. You know, lots of husbands have to get their wives jewelry for their tenth anniversaries. Or, I don't know, really expensive stuff."

"I guess you're right."

"I mean, lots of women apparently want DIAMONDS for their tenth anniversaries. Or big fancy ring upgrades. I just want a piece of twelve-dollar toast."

"See, I was almost ready to go for it, but then you put it like that. That's ridiculous!"

"But in the grand scheme of things, it's not that big a deal. Come on. I'm not asking for a huge diamond pendant. I just want some eighteen-dollar eggs."

"But that's -- no! I can't do it!"

"You don't love me enough to buy me some overpriced breakfast food? Or overpriced dinner? Just once in our lives, so I feel totally pampered and can eat Eggs Florentine or steak or even a stupid hamburger in bed?"

"That's not even fair. I just don't see the point when we can walk downstairs and get the same food without paying a ridiculous amount of money to have it delivered. There is no attraction for me in eating it in our room. Or if you need it in our room, I can go down and get it myself and bring it back."

"That's not the point."

"What's the point?"

(I struggle to find a point.) "Well -- just that I want to spend that frivolous money and have that experience sometime. I want to be totally comfortable and lazy and have a real dinner delivered that isn't pizza. Doesn't that sound romantic at all?"

"Not really."

"Can't you pretend? Because you love me? And it's our TENTH ANNIVERSARY?"

"OKAY. FINE. WE WILL ORDER ROOM SERVICE. BUT I WON'T BE HAPPY ABOUT IT."

"Okay, I changed my mind a little bit. I want room service and one other thing."

"What's that?"

"I want room service and a conspicuous lack of poopy attitude on your end."

(There is a sigh from the driver's seat.)

"I AM NOT ASKING FOR DIAMONDS, WINSLOW."

"I know. But from my perspective, it's not poopy. It's the principle of the matter."

"Wow, principles are so romantic. Look, I haven't bought a new pair shoes in, like, two-and-a-half years. Except for flip-flops this summer. Do you have ANY idea what kind of woman you COULD have married?"

"I wouldn't have married that kind of woman."

"Matt."

"Okay, FINE. We'll have room service and I won't be poopy about it."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, I'm sure I'll hear about it again sometime in the next three years. Just a guess."