A Generic Husband’s Apology Letter to His Wife

If you’re a guy and you’ve been married for five+ years, let’s face it, you’ve screwed up. A lot. Every day you inadvertently do something your wife finds annoying, insulting, insensitive, or just plain stupid. Perhaps this generic apology letter may help get you out of your latest jam. Probably not. But what have you got to lose?

[Author’s note: As a public service to my married male readers, I have crafted a generic apology letter for husbands who are looking for just the right, sensitive words to explain to their wives that they’re sincerely sorry for all their husbandly shortcomings. Guys, feel free to edit this to your specific situation to ensure your wife forgives you and lets you stop sleeping on the couch over your latest screwup. Of course, none of these examples below applies to my wife and me. – Tim Jones]

Dear [Choose one: Darling / Honey / Sweetheart / Ole Ball & Chain],

I feel I am past due in extending to you a sincere apology for the many ways I have failed you over the years. As I reflect upon our nearly [fill in # of years: ____] years of marriage, I realize there have been countless occasions in which I have selfishly placed my own wants, needs, and basic understanding of how reality works ahead of your spousal expectations.

For example, I want to offer my profoundest apologies for my reckless and borderline criminal behavior regarding the thermostat. I don’t know what possessed me to believe that 72°F was a temperature suitable for human habitation. I clearly forgot that the “proper” indoor climate for a suburban home is a balmy 84°F – somewhere between a tropical rainforest and a commercial greenhouse.

My mistake was assuming that if you saw sweat forming on my forehead while I was sitting motionless on the couch, you might conclude, as I did, that the house might be slightly too warm. From now on, I will respect your wish to live inside a high-functioning pizza oven. That was insensitive of me. I’m sorry.

I also owe you a massive apology for my inexcusable occasional lapse in attentiveness when you tell me stories about your latest workplace drama. You were roughly forty-five minutes into a truly riveting, frame-by-frame analysis of why Brenda in Accounting is a “passive-aggressive viper” for the way she CC’d your manager on that email about the breakroom microwave.

I realize now that my eyes may have glazed over slightly. It was selfish of me to let the sudden-death overtime of an NFL Seahawks playoff game distract me from the psychological nuances of Brenda’s cubicle warfare. A caring husband would have known that the playoff hopes of my favorite team pale in comparison to the specific tone of voice Brenda used when she asked if you’d “had a chance to look at those spreadsheets yet.” I should have known better. Can you forgive me?

I would also like to apologize for not completing every home-improvement project you discover online. For example, last year you sent me a Pinterest link which gave you the idea of remodeling our unfinished, damp basement into a five-star Mediterranean day spa with heated marble floors and a eucalyptus steam room. Meanwhile, I was still finishing the artisanal, hand-stacked stone fire pit you wanted after seeing a thirty-second Instagram video featuring a smiling couple roasting marshmallows while wearing adorable matching sweaters that read “You Complete Me.”

Ah, date night. And you’ve been patiently waiting for your wife to decide which outfit to wear. Suggestion: Avoid the temptation to say, “Honey, we’re just going to Denny’s, not the Metropolitan Opera Gala. Pick something, for God’s sake.” Trust me on this.

I recognize now that my failure was in believing that projects should be completed sequentially rather than simultaneously. A truly dedicated husband would have remodeled the basement, built the fire pit, installed a pergola, landscaped the backyard, and handcrafted a rustic farmhouse dining table all while making your favorite dinner. I see now that my inability to manipulate the space-time continuum to complete multiple major construction projects simultaneously is a glaring character flaw. I apologize for my lack of competence when it comes to time travel.

I would also like to apologize for the “tone” I used last Tuesday. You were merely fulfilling your civic duty by telling me, for the twentieth time on a four-mile stretch of road, that I should probably be in the left lane, and that the car three blocks ahead of us looked like it was about to brake suddenly. When I raised my voice (by which I mean, spoke at a volume audible to someone without sonar), I was being defensive. I should have simply thanked you for providing the turn-by-turn commentary that my GPS – and my 45 years of driving experience – clearly couldn’t provide.

I would like to apologize for my ongoing inability to read minds. This has been a recurring issue. Many times I have asked, “Is everything okay?” To which you’ve replied, “I’m fine.” Unfortunately, I have interpreted this response as meaning you were, well, fine. This was an amateur mistake. I realize now that “I’m fine” actually translates to: “I am currently compiling a mental list of every mistake you’ve made since 2012, and the fact that you can’t sense my boiling rage proves you don’t love me.” I promise to enroll in a Basics of Mind Reading course at the community college this fall so I can better interpret your silence.

I would also like to apologize for anniversary-related misunderstandings. Last year as our anniversary approached, you informed me, “Don’t get me anything. I have everything I need.” I foolishly assumed these words carried their standard dictionary meanings. I have since learned that “don’t get me anything” is not an instruction. It is a test. And like most husbands, I failed spectacularly. Mea culpa.

Most of all, I would like to apologize for the countless ways I have failed to live up to the very reasonable standard of a handsome, competent, caring, financially successful husband you’ve come to expect, based on every romantic movie you’ve ever watched. The man who always says the right thing, remembers every date, and compliments your latest new outfit, without ever asking how much it cost.

Few things cause marital friction like driving. Sure, you know the way to your destination. And you even remembered to leave 20 minutes early to allow for traffic. But your wife will find SOMETHING to criticize about your driving. You’re not going to win. Just apologize.

I confess that I am not that man. I am merely the guy who occasionally forgets why he walked into the garage. I love you, dear wife, deeply. You are smart, funny, beautiful, [fill in four or five more bromides of appreciation] and a better life partner than I probably deserve. I sincerely hope you can forgive my many failures.

I suspect that deep down you secretly dream about how you’d be happier leaving me for George Clooney, your favorite Hall Pass. I totally understand. I have lost count how many times you have sighed when you watch him on TV, “He just gets more handsome with age,” unlike your current husband who, for some reason, just gets more nasal and ear hair with age.

Just a word of caution, however, before you ride off in the sunset with your dreamboat lover: I hear George insists on keeping his house at a crisp 70°F.

With all my love and deepest regrets,

Your Loving Husband

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

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