My wife likes to make decisions for me. She’s selected all of my business suits and more than one pair of my dress shoes. And my last car? She picked that out, too. And every once in a while, Amy even chooses dates for us to enjoy.

We’d just notched our fifth wedding anniversary and were having a celebratory dinner at a swanky place by the harbor. Suddenly, she did a double take, and something about the way she cocked her head told me things were going to work out in my favor.

“What’s up?” I asked, before topping off my wineglass.

“Nothing.” But she let the word trail off, which meant she was not focused on me but on whatever, or whoever, she was eyeing.

“Uh-huh. Well, let me know when you want to share with the rest of the class.”