Kicking It with a tidy man

I am married to a tidy man. Some would define that as an oxymoron. Clearly those who remained divorced and single for decades had reason to. I for one, had a list. With each passing year – the list got longer. And longer. And longer.

Thinking there would never even be one candidate capable of checking off the top 10, I planned to live a solitary life.

Looking back, this list of requirements for a life mate somehow just seems practical. I do not recall everything on that original list, but the following will give you an overview of requirements: full time employment; a consistent employment history; marriage minded and a homeowner. He should have good teeth; clean fingernails; shined shoes; a suit. He should be a member of the same political party as me; unmarried and honorable. He should enjoy traveling; be tidy, independent and self-reliant and be handy with tools. He should own a truck or have a friend with one; be social and like hardware stores. He needed to have a sense of humor, enjoy dancing or have a willingness to learn. He should be polite, have good table manners and a savings account. He should have no police record, have pretty hair and be a light drinker. He needed to be physically sound, have a good education or a solid trade and be handsome.

Basically, what I called a decent man. And for years, I was beginning to think that a decent man was an oxymoron too.

I met my husband on eHarmony. He was my last date. And every single person knows what I am talking about. Actually, I knew faster than he did. Sometimes I think men don’t always get it, you know? We will celebrate the 13th anniversary of our wedding on April Fool’s Day this year.

Have you ever noticed how other people’s idiosyncrasies, no matter how perfect that person appears, are like surface dust? Hard to see if it’s yours, but easy to identify if someone else’s?

For instance, my hubby does the laundry at oh-dark-30 to save electricity – even though he prepaid the SDG&E bill for decades with a new set of solar panels. No complaint there, I’m just sayin’.

In case you’re wondering, yes, we do have the best wound water hoses in town. You know, looped in a perfect circle, Navy-style or in his case, a Coast Guard coil.

Is it only my husband or does every man use the last sliver of a bar of soap in the shower?

The only other person I have ever known as tidy as my husband was Uncle Wade. He set the universal standard for tidiness. Although, not officially my uncle, he was the husband of my first husband’s mother’s sister. He was an uncle by marriage.

Wade’s time in the Navy served him well. Chief Petty Officer Wade Gryson was the tidiest man I’d ever met. He ran a tidy ship on and off the water. Retiring as head bartender at the elite Gryson’s Steak House on Van Ness Avenue in San Francisco, Wade was a reflection of his naval training no matter where he was.

My first father-in-law, Bob, would mock Uncle Wade during San Francisco visits. Bob was bullied into showering before Uncle Wade to allow the shower to be properly wiped free of water and polished to its original high shine. Uncle Wade set the gold standard for the term “ship shape,” until I met my husband.

Elizabeth Youngman-Westphal can be reached at [email protected].