The High-Altitude Trap

My wife and I have a pretty noticeable height difference. I'm a whole foot and a half taller than her, which you'd think would just be a normal part of life. But in reality, it shows up in some pretty mundane ways, like when I reach the top shelf for pantry stuff, grab her coat from the closet, or change a lightbulb without yanking out the step stool. All pretty standard taller-spouse chores. Although it wasn't until pretty early on in our marriage that I started to catch on to a little bonus that came with being the taller partner.

It all starts with the bathroom shower head.

Every single morning, about the time I'm done showering and reaching for a towel, I make a point to go adjust the shower head fixture. Not just a little tilt upwards. I physically fiddle with the slider, crank the thing as high as the metal bar will hold. And let me tell you, it's pretty much out of reach for anyone under 5'5".

Here's the bit that makes all this work. The top setting is actually just as out of my league as it is for my wife. I've got to stretch up on my tippy toes just to get it in reach, and even then only just barely. I'm pretty sure I'm wasting water by leaving it that far up, but honestly that's the point.

It's a total setup. That is to say, it's a trap.

And then 10 minutes later, like clockwork, I hear the creak of the bathroom door opening while I'm getting dressed in the bedroom, or sitting at the kitchen counter sipping my first coffee.

"Hon?" her voice calls out over the sound of water & steam. "Can you come in here for a sec?"

I pop on my most innocent 'dutiful husband' face and head on down the hall. Open the door, step inside, undressed... there she is. Dripping wet, in her birthday suit, arms waving up at the ceiling where the showerhead fixture is, completely inaccessible.

"I just can't reach it again," she says with a little shake of her head, like I'm some kind of giant without a clue about space.

"Let me take care of that for ya," I say, keeping my voice completely deadpan, totally serious.

I step into the warm bathroom, and for a second my eyes land on the shower fixture. I can just reach up and lower it down to a more normal human height without even thinking about it. And that's it. For the cost of about 5 seconds of decent chivalry, I get a pretty unvarnished look at my wife. “Since I’m here, I can help wash your back.” That’s usually what I always say, sometimes in different words, or I offer to wash her feet, you get the point.

It's been years now, and this little routine plays out multiple times a week. Still, my wife has no idea what's going on. She thinks I'm just a reasonably oblivious guy who forgets about his own height every morning. She assumes I'm one of those people who showers up in the clouds and just leaves the bathroom without thinking about anyone else around. But the truth is, it's never once occurred to her to wonder why someone of my height would need to deal with water coming down from 3 whole feet above my head.

We're married, we live together, we share a life, a house, a bed, and a laundry basket full of dirty clothes. Is that not love? Maybe it sounds like a fairy tale to some extent.  That wild spark from when we were dating gradually wears off, and we get used to seeing each other in old sweatpants, messy hair, and our work clothes. It just becomes a normal part of life. But we still do the corny stuff from time to time.

There's something exhilaratingly absurd about setting up this little subterfuge, to have a 10-second chance to steal an unprompted look at the person I love. For that little burst of time I get to play the hero, coming in to rescue her from some aggressive plumbing, and she never gets to even touch herself that much because I’m at her service.

I've often thought about what would happen if she ever caught me fiddling with the shower fixture. I guess the trick would fall apart, or she'd just laugh and call me an idiot for going to so much trouble. Part of me has even suspected she might already know but plays along because she likes the little routine just as much as I do. But I'm never going to ask. No way to ask without ruining the whole thing.

It doesn't cost anything, it harms nobody, and it keeps a bit of silly playful spark alive on a random morning when we need to rush out the door in 20 minutes. In a long-term relationship, you learn to appreciate the grand romantic gestures and the carefully planned anniversary dinners. But honestly, when you strip all that away, it's the little silly things like this that make staying together feel so superb.