Contributing Writer

If you have been married for any length of time, you've made mistakes

and gotten yourself into trouble with the wife.�A stray look here, a few

wrong words there, then bam!�You're in hot water.�It's only natural.

Face it, guys.�When it comes to the evolutionary chart, we don't rank

very high.

Believe it or not, as wonderful as I am, even I have tripped a couple of

times down the road of matrimony, but there's one mistake that I haven't

made, possibly the biggest mistake of them all when it comes to giving roses.�Never,

ever have I've given roses to The Wife when she was mad at me.�But some

of you not-so-thinking Neanderthals out there still do; 'tis my job

to set you cavemen straight.

The Wife is a teacher, and school started back last week.�Needless to say

she was a tad stressed. After spending five hard days with a bunch of teenagers,

I, being the magnanimous Neanderthal that I am, decided to surprise her,

and a room full of teenagers, with a dozen roses.�A simple task even for

a Neanderthal like me, you would think.

I stopped at the over-priced florist shop, and they told me that a dozen

roses were $59.99 and the box or vase was extra. Now, mind you, I would spare

no expense on The Wife to make her happy, but I ain't paying $60 for

a bunch of roses and not even getting a box!�I said no and went straight

to the friendly neighborhood Kroger store around the corner; they had cheap

(inexpensive) roses.

Upon reaching the floral department with my chest puffed up, I proudly announced, "Me

need flowers for Wife."

The little florist just looked up at me and coyly replied, "What did

you do?"

The more I tried to convince her that I didn't "do" anything,

the more she was convinced that I had. "No one gives roses unless they're

in trouble." Like I said, you thoughtless Neanderthals out there who

only give flowers when you've done something stupid have really messed

up it up for the rest of us who only give roses just because.

She handed me the 12 long-stemmed red roses in a ruby red vase and asked

if I was sending a card also. I gave her a caveman grunt, nodded, and she

pointed to the card aisle. Over my shoulder I heard her say, "There

are plenty of them that say 'I'm Sorry' on the second aisle."�She

was right. With knuckles dragging the floor, I lumbered over to the two aisles

of greeting cards and found that the second aisle was indeed completely dedicated

to saying "I'm sorry" a thousand different ways. Only five

cards on the bottom shelf at the end said "Just because."�Thanks,

you thoughtless Neanderthals.

My tale of woe doesn't stop on the card aisle, oh no. While standing

in the checkout lane, the two ladies behind me first remarked how beautiful

the roses were then asked me what I did. Even the checkout lady who rang

up my $29.95 long-stemmed roses in the ruby red vase asked me what I did

to get into so much trouble.

Frustrated, I replied, "Nothing. I'm not in trouble."�Then

she asked me what I was going to do, and I again replied, "Nothing.

I'm not in trouble, and I don't plan on getting into trouble. Bought

roses for The Wife ... just because."

She gave me a "you-really-don't-expect-me-to-believe-that" grin.�Guess

she's married to a thoughtless Neanderthal.

The long-stemmed red roses in the ruby red vase made it to school a little

after one o'clock and checked in with the office to get a hall pass,

knuckles dragging all the way. The office staff (all ladies) ooohed and aaaahed

when they saw the roses; then they peppered me with questions: "What

did you do? What are you going to do? Did y'all have a fight? Did you

forget her birthday?�You forgot your anniversary, didn't you?"

that maybe paying $60 for a dozen roses and $20 for a delivery charge wasn't

such a bad deal after all. Dragging my knuckles, I lumbered down the hallway

with the roses and finally made it to The Wife's classroom.�I knocked

on the door even though my knuckles were sore from being dragged all over

town.�When she opened the door, her eyes sparkled and face beamed as she

did a little dance for joy.�"You're so thoughtful," she said.

I whispered to her and winked, "There are only 11.�You'll get

the 12th one when you get home."

All the kids in her classroom said in unison, "What did you do?" Thanks,

all you Neanderthals out there, sounds like you're raising your kids

they same way.

True love is experiencing a lover's first blush, walking a deserted

beach in the evenings and watching the sun slowly dip beyond the horizon

as the orange and yellow finger rays of sunset reach across the sky toward

moonlight, and sharing life's daily experiences then growing old together.�I

have found my true love.

Enjoy your roses, my darling, just because.

[Rick Ryckeley is employed by the Fayette County Department of Fire and

Emergency Services. He can be reached at [email protected].]