A Letter To My Husband On His 40th Birthday
I know you don’t like attention, a fact that never ceases to confuse me, but on the occasion of your 40th birthday I thought it was best.
Don’t look at this day as a sign that you are “getting old” but as a sign that you are “getting better.” You are a dude, which means somehow aging only makes you a more luxurious version of yourself. Women deteriorate as they age. When we turn 40 men start to turn away from us as if we are a grease fire. But you and George Clooney and Liam Neeson just get better looking. Our eggs die off and we get saddlebags and you guys are rewarded for having wrinkles and graying hair. Psychologists call it the “George Clooney Effect” but I call it the “Nicole Kidman’s Face Is Going To Melt Off Effect.”
You have so much to be proud of today. Think about it. You were a sweet kid from a small California town who worked his way from an intern at RealNetworks to a CEO on the cover of the marketplace section of Wall Street Journal at 21. Do you know what I was doing at 21? I was passed out face forward on the back patio of my apartment clutching a bouquet of flowers I’d picked from stranger’s gardens. A few months ago Ernst & Young named you an Entrepreneur of the Year. I’m just jazzed Lisa Rinna sometimes retweets my Real Housewives of Beverly Hills recaps.
This is to say nothing of the fact that you have helped me create four children that look exactly like you. Human Genetics experts would say that you have dominant genes. My dad would tell you that I didn’t bring anything valuable to the conception table.
40 is a good number, especially when you play tennis like someone 25 who just happens to sometimes have rage issues. It’s the reason I had to quit playing as your doubles partner. You have a great serve and forehand, but I spent most of the time crouched in a ball by the water fountain.
You know what I love
find annoying about you? You believe in people. You almost always give people the benefit of the doubt. “They just deserve the chance to prove themselves,” you will say. For example, you don’t find me remotely funny, but still allowed me to be the mother of your children.
You work seven days a week, often sacrificing any personal time so that you can grow a software company and still be home to swim with the kids in the pool, take them on long bike rides, and tuck them into bed. You make time for me every Saturday night, even if it means eating at a restaurant at 5:30 and with our newborn baby in a car seat beside us. Most of all you remind all of us, your friends and your family included, that you love us so.
Happiest birthday to you with love, love, and more love.
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