I’m hoping kitchen knives don’t figure too prominently in my new relationship

It’s been a long time since I was last in any sort of domestic partnership with a member of the fairer sex. For the past five years, I’ve lived a carefree bachelor existence, unhampered by the constraints and responsibilities that accompany a romantic relationship.

In that time, I’ve somehow managed to forget what it’s like to share a household with a woman. In the past week it’s all begun to come back to me. 

Now, if you’re thinking this is going to be a column in which I whine about all that’s now expected of me, think again. Lori’s great; easy on my eyes and easier still on my psyche.

If she has any crazy lurking beneath her warm, loving exterior, she’s keeping it well hidden. That’s fine by me, at least until the morning all that repressed rage bubbles to the surface and she comes at me with a kitchen knife.

Until then, all is good. And there’s alway the chance she’s really as wonderful as she seems. Life’s a crap shoot anyway and the odds this time seem pretty good.

But back to the things I’m now recalling about living with a woman. 

If I’m going to be very late, I should call. If I’m inviting my idiot friends back to the house at 3 a.m. after a gig with the band, a little advance notice to the missus is a good idea. The correct answer to the question, “Do these pants make my behind look big?” is “No!”

Stuff like that. Bothersome stuff guys tend to forget if they’re single for a long time.

Mostly, however, being with a woman again just makes life easier. There are all sorts of things I’ve had to handle myself for the past few years that now happen as if by magic.

Toilet paper, for example; I no longer have to buy it. It simply appears in the cabinet beneath the sink. The dishes, at least half the time, wash themselves. The rest of the time I wash them, but that’s OK, it’s still a reduction in dish-doing of 50-percent. 

In fact, all household chores are reduced by 50-percent.

There’s a washer and dryer here. My old apartment was too small for either. I will miss my friends from the laundromat, but I gotta admit it’s nice to not have to slog my baskets full of dirty socks across town every Saturday afternoon. Detergent, which I always used to forget to buy, is right there by the washer. I don’t even have to think about it!

Also, there’s money again. Two incomes are twice as good as one, it turns out. And since Lori was smart enough to choose a profession other than writing, her income is substantially higher than mine. I like a woman of means.

I’m sure there’s lots of other stuff about being in a relationship I’ll remember as we go along. Hopefully, most of it will continue to be good stuff.

With a little retraining, I’m hoping I’ll be able to get the hang of this relationship deal again. If not, well, it’s probably too soon to think about hiding the sharp kitchen knives, but maybe that’s something to keep in mind.

Just in case.

Mike Taylor’s book, “Looking at the Pint Half Full,” is available at Robbins Book List in Greenville and in ebook format from Amazon.com. 

mtaylor@staffordgroup.com

(616) 548-8273