Leaving the house lately has been a lot like being faced with the “Walk of Shame.” In fact, showing my face anywhere right now fills me with trepidation. All I want to do is put on a hat, slip on some shades, duck my head and get through it without talking to anyone.
But I can’t.
Because everyone knows I caved. At least, all my Facebook friends know. And now, if you read further, you’ll know, too. And then you’ll want to ask questions I’m ashamed to answer.
My first mistake was making public my campaign to not be the first in our house to turn on the air conditioner. But posting about it on Facebook was a small blunder compared to the most fatal, grievous, calamitous and downright crushing mistake I made.
I eventually implied in my Facebook posts that I was in a battle of wills with my ultra-competitive wife.
She just didn’t know it.
Not at first, at least.
She eventually found out last week when I informed my FB friends that it was so hot and humid inside our house that my wife appeared “close to breaking,” and that I thought I would soon “claim victory for lasting the longest without turning on the AC.”
When a mutual friend tagged her in a comment that post became my downfall. She turned to me and said, “I didn’t know we were competing.” Then she calmly told me that “if this is a contest, you know you’re going to lose.”
Actually, I’m sort of surprised she hadn’t busted me sooner. The post that ignited her competitive side was just one in a series I had been writing on Facebook.
It started innocently enough with a non-confrontational status update wondering “how long I could resist the siren call of the air conditioner.”
A few days later, I followed it up with another fairly innocuous post expressing relief that cooler temperatures were in the forecast.
A friend of mine then posted a picture of a box fan set up inside a window to encourage a cool breeze.
It went back and forth like that until I finally crossed the line. Last week, I mentioned my wife for the first time when I said I thought we were playing “a sick game of who can last the longest without turning on the AC.”
If I had just left it there, I wouldn’t be going incognito in public right now. But I had to follow it with posts and replies suggesting my wife and I were engaged in a supreme struggle that would scare even our soon-to-be teenage daughter, who is no stranger to conflict.
And then my wife discovered the “close to breaking post” and made it clear that she was anything but.
I spent the next few days gently suggesting that we put aside our contest, that if our tongues hung out of our mouths any further we might be mistaken for our thoroughly miserable dog, Rodney.
But she had a “you started it, I’m finishing it” attitude.
Even our kids were no help. Our daughter took my wife’s side and even wanted a cost analysis between running the air conditioning and all the fans I had running full blast throughout the house. Our teenage son, meanwhile, was oblivious to the whole thing. He spends most of his time at home in our comfortably cool basement pretending he doesn’t live with us.
Eventually, I caved and now I’m suffering the ignominy of having flipped the switch at a moment of craven weakness.
You might be wondering, if I’m so ashamed, why am I admitting to all this?
It’s for husbands who have ultra-competitive wives like mine.
Never let them know you’re competing with them if you want temperatures to cool down at your house.