Obama’s Diary

Honestly, I thought today was Valentine’s Day. Michelle was not too happy. First I forgot our anniversary last fall, now this. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse– it got worse.

This afternoon I called Michelle on the phone. “Hi, sweetheart. How’re the kids doing? Did you get the package and card I sent?”

When Michelle is pissed about something there’s an eerie, growing silence which follows any question. This was one of those moments. I figured the package was late and she was upset. I figured right, but for the wrong reasons.

“Barry,” she said, “Do you know what you gave me for our 15th anniversary? Do you even remember, Barry?”

Uh oh. Using Barry twice in the same sentence is not a good sign. “Honey, it was chocolate,” I stammered. “You love chocolate. I always get you chocolate.”

“Chocolate? This isn’t real chocolate, Barry. This was a boring box of Whitman Sampler chocolates. Another box of the same cheap-assed chocolates they sell at Walgreens. Except this time the chocolate covered cherries were broken and that sticky-assed syrup was all over everything. Sasha got in her hair.”

Uh oh. How did she know I got those at Walgreens? Is it possible that I got her the same thing for our anniversary, too?

“Listen to me Mister I-Wanna-Be-Leader-Of-The-Free-Freakin’-World, this is four times straight you’ve given me chocolates for this or that or whatever and not once have you managed to do any better than cheap-assed chocolates from Walgreens. Not once. Do you even know how to spell G-o-d-i-v-a Chocolates?

She was right. I don’t put a lot of thought into gifts or anniversaries or holidays or anything of those things that women think men should think about. I can’t say that I agree with Bill Clinton, or that I approve of what he did with Monica Lewinsky in the White House.

But I understand.