My Thirty-Year-Old Husband's Obsession with Pink
Past thirty, my usually serious husband suddenly developed a fascination with pink. The dark-colored furniture that had stayed the same for ten years was replaced with pink; even the utensils he picked up casually were pink.
I stared at the line of pink pajamas, pink bow ties, and pink underwear hanging out to dry on the balcony, feeling something was off. "I thought you said you hated pink—that it was a color only women liked?"
He was unpacking a new pink bed set and didn't even look up. "Oh, Jack and I made a bet. If I can replace everything in the house with pink, he'll give me his seaside villa for free. Honestly, after looking at it for a while, pink isn't that bad, don't you think?"
I neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, I called Jack, who blurted out, "What seaside villa? I don't remember ever buying one!"