God, I'm an Idiot!: Silver Wedding Anniversary

(Click4 to listen to "Get Smart" Theme Song)

"Oh my God! He's an idiot." ~ Patti DiMarco (Sarah Silverman), School of Rock (2003)

Elizabeth mandated I wear a suit and tie. This meant one of three things: either I needed to make a good impression on the couple we were dining with, the restaurant we were eating at was stodgily fine, or a suit was the Friday night dress code at the Symphony Center. It didn’t matter, I was wearing a suit and trimming my nose hair — it was to be that kind of an evening.

I would be meeting the couple we were "double dating" with for the first time. She is a friend of Elizabeth’s from a board they both serve on, and he is the head of a prominent real estate investment firm. Although not discussed, I knew I needed to be on my best behavior. This meant no politics, no college football, no bad jokes, and if at all possible, no poop stories — dog or otherwise.

We met for a 6:15 PM dinner reservation at a South Loop restaurant. The restaurant is self-described as contemporary, “offering an imaginative American menu with global accents.” Translated, this means high-priced, offering an imaginatively written American menu with sumptuous names and minuscule portions. The menu didn’t disappoint, it was higher-priced — but not outrageous — and read like a Robert Frost poem. However, beside the Crisp Potato Croquettes, Chioggia Beet Salad, and House-Made Black Pepper Tagliatelle, I didn’t see anything remotely “global.” Even those dishes, the way I pronounced them, were not accented.

The couple we would spend the next four hours with, were especially warm, interesting, and engaging. As expected, the meal and service were very good, and although I tried chewing slower, I was still hungry afterwards. More importantly, besides a small misunderstanding regarding a reference I made to the epic 1956 film, The Ten Commandments, when discussing Jewish Passover (she's Jewish . . . now that I think of it, add religion to my list of things not to talk about) — and the creepy fact that I coincidentally liked and therefore ordered the exact same menu items as my new guy friend — and, oh yeah, I almost forgot, I did toast with my water glass, not aware that my gin and tonic had been served and was sitting right in front of me — besides these few minor incidents, I’d say things were going pretty darn well.

That is until — Dangit! — our new BFFs shared with us that it was their silver wedding anniversary. Naturally, Elizabeth and I were quick to congratulate them. I should have left it at just that, but no can do. From across the table I asked my new guy the question of the night; a question that to this day pesters my memory and ridicules my intelligence.

I said, “So, like what are you supposed to give on your silver wedding anniversary, paper or something?”



It got very quiet. Although maybe only a full second had passed, it seemed like an excessive amount of time between an answer and what I thought was a harmless question. With all eyes on me, Elizabeth said cooly, “Silver . . . you give silver on your silver anniversary.”

I thought, God, I’m an idiot!



Later that evening, on the ride home from the Symphony Center, Elizabeth told me that I'm really not an idiot. It was a good night. Thank God, I'm a trophy husband.