Wife Rule #58: Keep Your PROMISES®

I am the beneficiary of one of the most important medical discoveries of all time.

I am referring, of course, to recent studies confirming the health benefits of eating dark chocolate every day. So in the interest of promoting my own good health and lengthening my life, all for the sake of being enabled to be a better husband and father to my wife and kids, I nobly take a few squares of Dove dark chocolate every afternoon at work--my "medicine."

Therein lies the problem.

Not the chocolate; it's the best medicine I've ever had. The problem is the foil wrappers the chocolate comes in. Not that I can claim total ignorance; if you read the fine print on the back of the bag, it clearly warns that "Each piece is individually wrapped with a special PROMISES® message inside each wrapper."

So what's the big deal? you ask. After all, I had enjoyed my medicine for several days before I noticed these insidious PROMISES® messages. But once the fluffy, pink cat with the nauseating purr came out of the bag, real harm began to be done.

You see, for some unfathomable reason (translation: a reason invented by the Marketing department), Dove decided that the sole consumers of their chocolate squares would be twelve-year-old females--and extra sappy ones at that. Thus, they flippantly filled their wrappers with noxious PROMISES® messages dripping with estrogen, which I'm afraid may have caused irreparable damage to my manliness. But like a backstreet drug dealer, they have no regard for the sanctity of my manhood; once they had me hooked on the chocolate, they had me in their girly snare.

For example, just imagine the way my hand recoiled from the wrapper after reading "Wink at someone driving past today." Ugh, it makes me cringe just to imagine it. I could probably manage a painful wince at someone driving past today, but winking is definitely out of the question.

Another example: "Buy yourself flowers!" Cha! As if! What would I do with a crummy bunch of flowers? Wince at them?

You might suspect that since I noticed the Dove PROMISES® messages, I have done a lot of wincing.

And moaning. Especially when I read "You know what? You look good in red." Aaargh!

To make matters worse, all the painful wincing and moaning has attracted the attention of my coworkers. So I had to explain to them about my medicine and how I now must endure a relentless onslaught against my masculinity, all because of the totally unnecessary, special PROMISES® messages.

I got no sympathy.

No, as you might have guessed, one man's pain is another man's plaything. Hey, now that's a good PROMISES® message! Much better than "There's no excuse not to dream." Ugh! I'll tell you what I'm dreaming of: I'm dreaming of opening a chocolate square and reading a PROMISES® message like "Hey man, you have big biceps," or "Go and get yourself some steak," or "Nothing beats a Harley. Except a Hummer. Or a tank. Yeah, a tank!" Now those are PROMISES® I could sink my teeth into.

But as I was saying, my coworkers have decided to have a little fun at my expense. So they have taken to eating Dove chocolate squares too, just so they can find the most obnoxious PROMISES® messages they can, and then assault me with them. Many a time I have left my cubicle to get a drink or talk to someone, only to return and see a nauseatingly-happy foil wrapper placed carefully between the keys in the center of my keyboard, and a PROMISES® message staring me in the face:

"Make your eyes twinkle."

"Dare to love completely."

"Go to your special place."

AAAARGH!!! I'll tell you what you can do--you can take these special PROMISES® messages and...

I was about to write a phrase containing the words "shove" and "your special place," but propriety demands that I forbear for now. It's just that it's getting to the point that I'm afraid to leave my desk even to go to the bathroom. I do a lot of dancing in my seat.

But don't think I can't fire back. Imagine the smug look of satisfaction on my face when a loud groan reverberated off the cubicle walls as my coworker found this PROMISES® message tucked into his keyboard: "It's definitely a bubble-bath day." Bwa-ha-ha!

So I guess that in the end, I did find one redeeming use for the PROMISES® messages. And whether you need to "Send a love letter this week," or "Follow your instincts," or even if you just need to "Whisper in the dark" a little more, I just want you to remember that you should always "Keep the promises you make to yourself."

I know I will.

In fact, I promise to myself that the next Wife Rule I write will have more to do with my fabulous, wonderful, amazing wife than just the token, three-superlative tribute I paid to her in this sentence. Although in reality, this Wife Rule wouldn't exist without her, because she's the one that buys my medicine for me. Can you imagine me trying to explain to the cashier why I was buying a bag full of girly PROMISES®?

"These are for my great aunt," I would lie.

"Mmm hmm," the cashier would respond, a calculated look of boredom clearly belying the skepticism in her voice.

"No really, they are. She's about to die. I was hoping the special PROMISES® messages inside the wrappers that are individually wrapped around each piece of chocolate might just, you know, help her bid this sorry life goodbye a little easier by reminding her of everything that's wrong in the world. No point in sticking around here and being in pain, while the Netherworld awaits!"

Silence and a stare from the cashier.

"Why are you looking at me like that with your left eyebrow raised? Put that thing DOWN!"

A little nervous, she reaches for the phone.

"DON'T pick up that phone and call for security! HEY! HEY! WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME? GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! I NEED TO CALL MY LAWYER! I NEED MY MEDICINE!!!"

So you can clearly see that I wouldn't be caught dead in the checkout line with a full bag of chocolate wrapped in manhood-destroying PROMISES®.

And that's a promise.