I’m no fan of surprises—and it’s no surprise around here that I drone on endlessly with my objections to surprises. Well, someone has to set the world straight.
True to form I was criticizing a surprise that really had nothing to do to me. The surprise was directed at my wife . . . sort of. It involved her family reunion. Let me repeat that. Her family reunion. Not my family. Her family. All family members planned to be there except one, or so we were led to believe. Then SURPRISE . . . that family member showed up after all, something he had planned all along.
I had a strong opinion about this surprise that had little-to-nothing to do with me. An opinion I was eager to share with my wife. I rattled off example after example on why the surprise was more inconvenience than enhancement—she never asked for my viewpoint, but I was feeling generous. I crowned my argument with this truth—surprises forestall the delight that only sweet anticipation can bring. In other words, instead of being excited for days anticipating this family member’s arrival, I was bugged. Obviously.
I made a strong case and thought everyone was on board.
Enter Father’s Day. For my gift, my two daughters conspired to treat me to lunch and a movie. One wanted to warn me. The other wanted to surprise me. One daughter knows I don’t like surprises. One daughter doesn’t care. The right choice prevailed. I happily accepted the warning, which gave me a chance to pick the day and time AND bask for two days in glorious anticipation.
That was all fine by me, but as the losing daughter put it, I ruin everything. And like her father, she droned on endlessly with her objections. She wanted the event to be mysterious and spontaneous, which to her, was part of the gift. She thinks sweet anticipation is overrated. Better is instant gratification when you least expect it. She thought my predictable Saturdays could use a jolt. She actually scolded me for being such a dud. Always nice to hear around Father’s Day.
I was about to lecture her on gift-giving etiquette, you know, because I was feeling a bit defensive—I mean, I was feeling completely right about my stand on surprises, and she was being so rude so close to Father’s Day . . . Then I remembered my harangue to my wife at the reunion. I was no better than my daughter! She was ruining my good time that same way I was likely ruining my wife’s good time So I looked deep in my soul at my intention.
Which was more offensive—(a) the surprise at the reunion or (b) me carrying on about it? OK, B, but I didn’t mean any harm. My mistake was not in sharing my feelings—it was sharing those feelings with my wife who had a personal stake in the matter. I figured my daughter did the same thing. She was simply sharing her feelings with the wrong person—though sharing her feelings to any other person would have been completely acceptable. So I forgave her. And I forgave myself. But I’m never going to apologize to my wife. Big surprise!
Into the Comfort Zone 