People often ask me: “Adam, what’s it like to be married to a charming, beautiful, and talented woman such as your wife?” I’ll normally just smile coyly with some playful remark—maybe “I’ll never tell” or some such thing—and then leave my in-laws family reunion.
I don’t mean to be rude; I really just don’t know how to respond. My wife and I were a traditional couple. You know, the type who doesn’t move in together until at least the third date. But I had the privilege of becoming fairly good friends with her before we even began dating. So, we were pretty comfortable with each other before getting married, which meant things really didn’t feel that different after our marriage—with one notable exception. I’m referring, of course, to that universal but incredibly private dimension of man and wife: Amazon boxes.
Everyday when I come home, usually after a night of hard drinking, the equivalent of Morocco’s GDP in Amazon deliveries is waiting for me on the stoop of our porch. When I, in my gentle husbandy way, express my astonishment of “what the hell are all these damn boxes,” she’ll only wave her hand and say something like “oh, these are just the disposable curtains for Jill McIntery’s baby shower décor.” And then she’ll throw in, “remember I told you about it last week?” in a tone one usually reserves for late-stage dementia patients.
That questions always seemed a little unfair to me coming from a MENSA-savant like my wife, who apparently can remember every detail of anything I was involved in since the Cold War, while she knows I am the kind of guy who, for example, once forgot to eat for 4 consecutive days. I probably wouldn’t remember Jill’s baby shower curtains even if she had tattooed it on my forehead, and she uses this to her advantage.
The result is she could say literally anything about the Amazon boxes and the effect would be the same. “Oh those?” she might say, “those are just the rocket-propelled grenades we bough for Boko Haram’s birthday party. Don’t tell me you forgot?” So, the boxes continue every morning. And I spend most of every night trying to fit them into our trash cans, at least on nights I don’t go out drinking.
The strange part is in all other aspects of our life together my wife is as miserly and submissive as an Amish matron. She’ll ask me if it’s ok for her to spend 15 cents on our son’s antibiotics; and then after the fact tell me she Amazon’ed a new bathtub. If she was just a simple spendthrift our daily Amazon ritual wouldn’t come to my mind when my 2nd-cousin-in-law was asking me about our marriage. It’s that it’s so surprising that makes it stand out.
But in retrospect it was silly of me to be surprised. The habit seems to affect any married member of the female sex. I polled my social circle, which is extensive by the way, and every guy’s wife has been stockpiling Amazon boxes. Or at least Walmart boxes if they’re trashy. Clearly, we are dealing with a societal problem of epic proportions. And something must be done about it—especially if any of us guys ever want to have enough money left for those new golf clubs. For this public service I have compiled a list of reasons I believe Amazon has such a pull on the X chromosome and what we ordinary sods can do about it, which I’ve helpfully reproduced for you below:
- Cause: Women overburdened with household management. It can be overwhelming to stay on top of the endless needs for diapers, tissues, cleaning products, etc. that is required in the modern American household. Amazon offers a convenient one-stop shop for all such items at low-cost and without needing any trips to the store, creating significant temptation.
Solution: You can offer your wife helpful reminders about all the home supplies that will soon need restocking. She won’t have to get bailed out by Prime’s 2-day shipping if you remind her a week ahead of time that you’ll probably be using the rest of the toilet paper pretty soon. She’ll really appreciate it if you even suggest to her certain stores that carry toilet paper products in-person, like “Walmart” or “the grocery store.” Just be cautious that this doesn’t lead to any suggestions you might pick it up on your way home from work. - Cause: Difficulties with money. Women spend a disproportionate amount of time with the children. After spending so many hours playing pretend and not doing advanced mathematics, this can make it difficult for them to come back to the real world and remember all those bright buttons on the Amazon app cost actual money that someone has to work for.
Solution: Be sure to remind them of how the economy works very often to ground them, especially immediately before or after they have to change a diaper or tend to a crying child. This is important even for a stay-at-home mom, but don’t neglect it just because your wife may work full-time.
- Cause: The sexual magnetism of Jeff Bezos. Science tells us baldness is correlated to higher levels of testosterone, which we know is an important hormone in male-female sexuality. Jeff Bezos is just oozing the stuff with his Lex-Luthor physique to the point that it wouldn’t surprise me at all if all of our wives are subconsciously pandering to him in unrealized desperation.
Solution: You can increase testosterone with diet, exercise, or expensive hormone replace therapy. So realistically I suggest just shaving your head and faking it. - Cause: Reckless globalism leading to cheap and disposable consumption, propagandized to the masses by mega-corporations within a poor regulatory environment.
Solution: There is nothing you can do about this one, but it feels good to have something to complain about at parties.
Obviously, additional reasons can be given but these four are, in my considerable research, the main causes of our epidemic. If you have a wife, please do your duty to remedy the problem as soon as possible. If you do not, I urge you to call your local lawmaker and demand they do something to raise public awareness of this social scourge. It may soon be too late—and I really want those golf clubs.
