I am 3 years 5 months and 10 days older than my wife. Over the years, however, I keep growing older than she. It happens like this:
My wife stopped aging at 29 when she turned 30. So when I turned 39 I was a full decade older. She made fun of it, asking me, “How does it feel to be married to a much younger chick?” I shrugged and said, “About the same.” She gave me her “look,” and I amended my answer with whatever I thought she wanted to hear. I don’t remember what I said, but it was convoluted and ongoing complicated, and at one point I thought I might need to start writing the stuff down. But eventually she stopped teasing me, and we went about our married way.
(You have to understand that my wife was a hot babe. When she was twenty-one and I was twenty-four and our two kids were in diapers, we went to a barbeque buffet at my colonel’s house, and while there several of my fellow workers, who had never met her, pointed her out and mentioned that she was a hot babe. When one of them eventually asked me where my wife was, I pointed to her. She was helping serve food at the long table. Well, he was embarrassed and said that he’d thought she was the colonel’s teenage daughter. Nope, that’s my wife! As the word spread, everyone was amazed at how young and hot she looked. Yep, that’s my wife, the babe! I never told her about that day, so keep it quiet—oh falderal! She’ll read it here.)
Fortunately, when she turned 40, she agreed to be 39, so again I was only three years and some beyond her. For ten years I put candles that were in the shapes of 3 and 9 on her cakes (she doesn’t like all those little candles) and whenever our kids called and wanted to know how old their mother really was—I suppose, just to see if I knew or hear what I would say—I maintained she was 39. It was familial humor, and it kept my wife happy.
I expected her to stay 39 for another decade, so I was astonished when she turned 50 and agreed to be 49. I had already bought a supply of 3-shaped candles for her birthdays. Well, it wasn’t too expensive to replace the 3s with 4s, and again I was in her age range.
However, I suspect from various hints of looks and other gestures that she will not like being 59 when she turns 60. She gets cranky about the subject. As far as I’m concerned, my wife will stay 49 until she turns 70, at which time she may consent to be 59. But I doubt it.
Be it known, though, that I refuse to be 20 years older. I will insist on equal aging. If she’s still 49 when she’s 67, I’ll revert to 52 when I turn 70.