“Don’t you want the joy of being able to hear your wife?” asks the narrator of a commercial for Miracle Ear hearing aids.
With nothing good on television to watch these days, my husband and I are forced to watch old reruns from the ’70’s and ’80’s. Apparently a lot of people our age are in that same boat because the commercials are always for things such as pre-arrangement funeral plans, hearing aids, and adult diapers.
“Don’t you want the joy of being able to hear your wife?” I ask my husband, who insists he’s not deaf.
“What’d you say?” he answers. He is sitting literally two feet away from me.
“I said don’t you want the joy of being able to hear your wife?” I repeat.
“Huh? I didn’t hear you.”
“I SAID DON’T YOU WANT THE JOY OF BEING ABLE TO HEAR YOUR WIFE?” I shout.
“Don’t YELL at me!” he replies, wounded.
“I HAVE TO YELL BECAUSE YOU DON’T HEAR ME!”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing. You mumble,” he insists.
“I don’t mumble. You need a hearing aid.”
“I don’t drink Gatorade,” he answers, confused.
“Exactly my point,” I say under my breath, which he doesn’t hear.
I start to wonder if perhaps he has developed “selective” hearing and is tuning me out, the way a lot of older men do to their wives. The way I do to him when he starts in on one of his airplane stories that I have heard for the hundredth time. (Except I’m much better at pretending to listen than he is.) No, he wouldn’t dare. Otherwise, I might have to start making pre-funeral arrangements for him!