Zap!

I lower the barrel of my weapon, poised for ambush on the unsuspecting adversary. I fire! A ray of light blasts past the adversary, alerting him of my presence - I have lost the element of surprise. From then on it's a grueling fight to the death; one moment I gain the upper hand, the next, my adversary has evaded my grasp and taken control. But after attacking from all conceivable angles, finally I am rewarded: "Beep." The item is added to the wedding registry.

So goes the grim battle, fought by many a brave husband-to-be in the glittery aisles of Bed, Bath, and Beyond, Macy's, and Target. For some of us, the registry scanner may be the only weapon we ever handle for more than an hour, so better enjoy it. Filling the wedding registry with superfluous kitchen gadgets, oversized hatchets, and sporting ware is what we do best. This is also our chance to get back in touch with nature, procuring all our camping needs, and to build the perfect home entertainment system, complete with surround sound. After all, it's not every day a young boy (no man with a registry scanner can contain his inner child for very long) gets to run around stores zapping things. It's like free laser tag, perhaps with slightly less vigorous foes, but who notices? Some may call it heaven. I call it....heaven.

Unfortunately, it seems technology has surpassed us menfolk with a nifty little thing called the "internet." Within this wily invisible realm the women are really in control. Sure, we men like to shoot all the stuff in the store, but after that, we forget about that registry thing until we get to unholster our weapon once more. Meanwhile, the prudent womenfolk have logged onto the "internet" and swiftly pruned away the circular saws and automatic barbeque sauce dispensers, leaving us utterly disappointed and distraught when we are forced to apply our barbeque sauce manually. Blast you "internet!"

So here I am, a married man, sans hacksaw, but still happily connected to all ten of my fingers. I haven't been married even three months yet, but I can tell you now that my wife is definitely the brains of the operation. It was apparent from our time in the trenches of Target; I may have rashly acted on my boyish yearnings, but she had the big picture under control. In fact, she probably expected that I would run around like a hooligan, zapping things left and right, and just calmly took it in stride. She knew I would never need or even want half of the things I might zap, so she wisely eliminated them.

Later, post-wedding, we had a number of gift cards to help finish off our registry needs. One Saturday we headed over to the local BB&B (that, I must say, is managed by a buffoon, but I shan't name names or places), to buy some random necessities, including some bed linens. I wandered around the section, appalled by the prices that this store was asking for a few pieces of cloth and almost jumped out of my skin when my wife pointed out a set of sheets for $60. $60!!!! That can buy at least three books, and maybe a latté to add to the ambience. There was no way in Burkina Faso that I was going to spend $60 on some bed stuff manufactured for 42 cents in Thailand. Thus, in my frugal wisdom, I suggested some other sheets, topping out at only $40 (I would have preferred even cheaper ones, but there simply weren't any). By that point I was ready to befriend Oscar the Grouch and take up residence in a trash can, permanently misanthropic and anti-expensive sheets. So, in my one flash of inspiration for the day, I suggested that maybe I should go down a few stores to Borders and let my wife finish up with the purchases here. Of course, she was more than willing for me to leave.

Well, it turns out that $40 set of sheets was actually just one sheet, and the whole set would have cost upwards of $120. The $60 set was one of the cheapest options, but I obviously wouldn't have noticed. Needless to say, that's what we ended up purchasing. Hopefully I will learn early to heed my wife's advice, especially when I am flustered by frugal frustration. In my own defense, though, I think my judgment of math textbooks and my knowledge of a certain octopus, genus Vampyroteuthis, may be superior to hers. Maybe.

So to all you fiancés out there, don't worry; your over-enthusiastic zapping will not lead to a home filled with horseshoes and combination water purifier/bear trap/zip line harnesses. And have fun! You may never be able to zap to your heart's content at any other time in your life. So take advantage of the fact that you are encouraged to zap, and you have wise oversight (probably much better than the oversight afforded by the most powerful, wealthy government in the world). If your wife-to-be is anything like mine, the situation is under control.