Deciphering those coded messages

Because my husband and I first met more than 30 years ago, we're pretty sure our long string of shared experiences puts us way ahead in husband-wife communication.

We feel sorry for couples who don't have three decades of inside jokes, mutual friends and meandering stories beginning "Do you remember when ...?"

Although we've known each other for more than 30 years, we've only spent the past not-quite-five as husband and wife. And there's a difference between talking as friends about where to go for pizza and talking as husband and wife about vital subjects - such as where to go for pizza.

Or who puts gas in whose car and when.

For a long time, when my husband and I were out on Sunday evenings in my car, he'd look at the gas gauge and say in that wonderful husbandly I'll-take-care-of-this voice, "I'm going to fill up your car for you," and he'd do it.

It was a sweet gesture, and I loved it.

Then for two or three weeks in a row, the car didn't need gas on Sunday nights. My husband looked at the gas gauge on those occasions and asked kindly if I needed gas, and I said I'd fill it later.

Except that every week after those gasless Sunday nights, my husband looked at the gauge and ask if I needed gas. The needle was be barely above empty.

Instead of simply replying, "Yes, dear. Since we apparently are riding on fumes, I would like gas in my car," I figured that since he asked me instead of doing it without asking, he apparently didn't want to fill my car anymore, and his asking meant he secretly hoped I'd say "no," so I always said, "No. I'll do it later."

Later, I would fuss and fume about it.

Why did he want me to fill my own car?

Until one recent Sunday night when he started to ask, and I decided to get the truth. I pointed out he used to not ask and just do and why wouldn't he fill my car up anymore?

"Well," he said, slightly flummoxed, "I always asked if you wanted me to fill the car up and you said 'No. I'll take care of it later,' so I thought you meant you didn't want me to fill the car up and you'd take care of it later. I didn't know you were sending me a coded message. But I do now."

With that he pulled into the gas station - and determinedly pumped about $2.37 worth of gas into the car. In the driving rain.

"I promise," he said gallantly, "that I'll never let a Sunday night go by without filling up your car. Whether it needs it or not."

Cathy Wood is a freelance writer living in the Shoals. Contact her at cathylwood@gmail.com. For more from her, visit TimesDaily.com.