Oh, darlings, gather round as I dish out the latest scoop from the land of love, compromise, and…bookshops? Yes, you heard that right. Today’s tale from the Reddit kingdom—a realm where the good, the bad, and the downright quirky converge—touches upon a dilemma as old as time itself, delivered fresh from the keyboard of a real-life protagonist. This isn’t just any story; it’s a #RealRedditStory, proving once again that reality often surpasses fiction in the realm of bewildering scenarios. Our dear friend, let’s call him ‘Book-Lover’, is facing a birthday predicament that’s got the internet abuzz. And naturally, your favorite sassy connoisseur of human folly, Roger, is here to unwrap this present of perplexity. So, let the unwrapping begin, and trust me, you’ll want to stick around until the grand reveal of Roger’s Hot Take on this festive fiasco.
Book-Lover, a spry 43-year-old whose love for art-town adventures is rivaled only by his passion for, well, books, finds himself on the eve of his birthday with excitement in his heart and a plan in his mind. A day out in a nearby town filled with bookshops and museums—his idea of paradise. His wife, however, might as well be stepping into a circle of Dante’s Inferno. At 44, she has a distaste for shopping that could rival Gordon Ramsay’s disdain for undercooked salmon, not to mention an aversion to the town’s ‘pretentious’ air. In a turn of events that could shock only the most naïve among us, she politely inquires if her dear husband might actually enjoy the birthday escapade more in her absence. Cue the dramatic gasp.
Our man is flabbergasted, shattered, perplexed (insert any synonym for ‘befuddled’ here). The concept of swallowing one’s distaste for a loved one’s happiness is not foreign to him, and he expected his wife to don her proverbial explorer’s hat and march into the fray of art shops and book dens for the sake of marital harmony. And yet, here we are, standing at the crossroads of Selflessness and Self-preservation.
Before we dive into the nitty-gritty, let’s all acknowledge one universal truth: Birthdays are weird. They’re the annual yardstick by which we measure our growth, our losses, and yes, our ability to inflict activities we adore on those who’d rather watch paint dry. But here’s where the plot thickens—Book-Lover is upset. His wife, the supposed anchor in the stormy sea of life, the Harley Quinn to his Joker, doesn’t get his dismay. Is our protagonist the unsung hero of birthday desires, or is he missing the page on empathy and understanding in the grand book of life?
Let’s not mince words. Expecting someone to partake in an activity they find as exciting as a root canal, even on your birthday, is a bit like expecting a cat to enjoy a swim because you’ve thrown a fish in the pool. Sure, they might jump in after enough coaxing (or out of sheer obligation), but they’ll be plotting your downfall with every stroke.
The real kicker here, sweet readers, is the communication—or apparent lack thereof—that precedes The Ask. Book-Lover’s wife, bless her, attempts to open a dialogue, a preemptive strike against presumed misery. Yet, our birthday boy sees it as a balloon-deflating moment rather than the escape hatch it truly is.
So, where does Roger stand amidst this battleground of birthday wishes and marital bliss? Drumroll, please, for Roger’s Hot Take: Our dear Book-Lover, while not the villain of this tale, has certainly misplaced his hero’s cape. Birthdays, my friends, are not carte blanche for subjecting our loved ones to torture disguised as togetherness. Love, the kind that lasts, is built on the bedrock of mutual respect, understanding, and the occasional sacrifice—yes. But it’s also about knowing when to let go of the confetti gun and say, ‘Your happiness is my gift.’
In the great waltz of marriage, sometimes you lead, and other times, you follow. But every dance, especially the birthday dance, should be choreographed with the comfort of both partners in mind. Lest we forget, the best gifts are those we give willingly, wrapped in the joy of the giver, not begrudgingly, with a receipt for future grievances. So, to Book-Lover and his art-loving heart, consider this: the beauty of the journey is not in the destination (or the bookshops along the way), but in having a willing and joyful companion by your side.
Until next time, your ever-watchful commentator on the curious human condition, Roger, bidding you adieu with a wink and a nudge towards kindness, understanding, and maybe, just maybe, a different birthday plan.
Original story
It’s my (M43) birthday tomorrow. Me and my wife (F44) had arranged to visit a nearby town that I like and visit some bookshops and museums etc. I love this sort of thing, my wife doesn’t, she hates shopping in general, and she finds the town pretentious (it’s an arty sort of place).
Tonight she asked if I really wanted her to go with me as I might have a better time without her there. I’m upset because while I know she doesn’t enjoy that activity, I’d expect her to hold her nose and just go along with it as it’s my birthday.
I get where she’s coming from, but I also don’t think it’s too much to ask to just go along with it for the day. She doesn’t understand why I’m upset. AITA?