There's a pair I've got stashed away from my wife right now. And no, it's not that they're expensive — though, yeah, they're expensive.
It's that I can already hear the exact sentence she'll say when she sees the price. Word for word. I've heard it enough times to recite it. And I've decided I'd rather carry a small private lump of guilt around than sit through that particular speech one more time.
She always finds them eventually, obviously. A new pair surfaces, she does the math, the speech arrives on schedule, just delayed.
And every single time I swear I'll just be upfront next round. Then a new pair catches my eye and the shoebox goes right back into hiding. I do not learn. That's the whole arc. I am a man who does not learn.