I don’t mean I’ve waited 5 years for her to become my wife, or I’ve been waiting for her because she was living abroad or went to prison. No, I’m referring to the times I have had to patiently wait for my wife. I’ve always been one of those annoying punctual people who, if we agree to leave at a certain time, I’m ready to go on the dot. Unfortunately, my wife isn’t quite so punctual!

Are you in the camp of people who get frustrated by others if they are late, and would much prefer to get somewhere early and wait for others to arrive? Or are you much more comfortable arriving a bit later when everyone is already there, to avoid sitting around waiting and having awkward small talk?

Sorry, I’m late

Are you a “Sorry, I’m late” person? Someone who walks in a room and this is always the first words you say, almost out of habit because you are always late.

My wife doesn’t like being late but has a unique sense of time that is often about 15 minutes behind the actual time. While it used to frustrate me, I've come to accept that this is just one of the many quirks that make her who she is.

I've learned to appreciate that we all have different perceptions of time and what constitutes being late. For example, in business meetings, I believe it's important to arrive a few minutes early, while in social situations, being ‘fashionably’ late by up to 10 minutes can be acceptable.

However, if you have agreed to meet someone socially in a restaurant, nobody likes to be kept waiting, particularly if they're on their own, so it's about thinking of others. If you’re going to be more than 5 minutes late, I think it’s polite to message them your time of arrival.

When we are talking about our home life, again there are different scenarios. Morning routines of getting dressed, having breakfast, ensuring children are prepared for school, and leaving for work on time, are usually a military process timed to the minute, repeated every weekday. Whilst a more relaxed approach is acceptable on weekends.

Test of Patience

So, I suppose what I’m talking about here is patience. I don’t particularly like waiting around if I’m ready to go somewhere, so become a bit impatient.

Some people find it really stressful being late, or in other situations where time is out of their control, such as waiting in a queue, sitting in traffic, or waiting for your delivery to arrive.

Getting ready to go out

My wife takes longer to get ready than I do, so she will always start first, with the aim of us both being ready at the same time. Unfortunately, this doesn’t always go to plan and she often takes a bit longer to get ready, which is fine and I have become used to the ‘final mirror check’ which sometimes causes a rethink of her top or shoes.

However, what tests my patience is when I have been waiting by the front door for 10 minutes and my wife comes down the stairs, looking lovely, but with a bag of laundry under one arm.

I appreciate that laundry is a boring, tedious, never-ending task. However, I am always flabbergasted why there is a sudden panic to start a washing cycle when we should have left 10 minutes ago.

So, I wait by the front door, trying to look relaxed, while my wife sticks her head in the washing machine and then stands there working out the timing on her fingers of when it needs to start washing, so the cycle finishes at the necessary time.

This procedure probably averages 20 minutes every time we go out, so after 30 years that equates to me standing by the front door for nearly 10 days, just waiting to say “You look amasing”, before we rush out the door.

Waiting to be picked up

If I happen to be out and ask my wife to pick me up at a certain time, I obviously do the usual trick with someone who is always late, by telling her a time slightly earlier than I would actually like to be picked up, to account for her habitual lateness.

Unfortunately, my wife knows this, and so still turns up 10 minutes late, and says “I assume you didn't really want to be picked up at the agreed time”! I estimate I have probably spent a good 5 days of my life waiting by the side of the road.

Waiting in the car

If we are going out somewhere casually and there is no need to dress up, my confidence is high as I think there's absolutely no reason why we would be late leaving, so I jump in the car at the agreed time, ready to go.

Often I sit there. And sit there. And then I panic that there must be some kind of emergency, or accident in the house, which was making my wife so late, so I jump out the car and rush back into the house. But there's no panic, I discover my wife is calmly singing to herself whilst folding the laundry!

This probably averages 10 minutes once a week, so that works out that I’ve sat in the car in the driveway for 11 days of my life.

Going for a dog walk

Going for a daily dog walk is lovely. Just slip a jacket and shoes on and we are off. Oh no we’re not. The dog and I stand outside the back door just watching the extensive process of my wife getting ready.

Once she has her boots and coat on, this is usually a good sign and means we are close to leaving, although it's often back upstairs due to wearing the wrong jumper for the weather.

Then, when my wife is ready, it’s time to get all the dog paraphernalia ready. In the winter the dog must wear a coat, as its thick coat of fur designed to protect it from the extreme cold apparently isn’t adequate. Then it's deciding which lead to take, followed by filling the water bottle, just in case the dog gets dehydrated, even though it prefers drinking from every puddle along the walk anyway! Next, it’s the dog treats, poo bags, spare poo bags and finally a couple of her favourite special treats, just in case.

Generally, my wife takes an extra 10 minutes, and this occurs once or twice a day! So the dog and I have stood outside the back door looking at each other for over 50 days!

Going on holiday

This is the most critical event every year for the family to be punctual. We pre-agree on a must-leave time. I put everything in the car, double-checking that we have everything. Then realise I have not seen my wife for 10 minutes. Now I appreciate that holidays and packing can be a stressful time and it’s imperative you must do everything calmly, in your own time to check that you haven’t forgotten anything. So, I assume she will be checking her handbag for the passports, sunglasses and lip slave. But no, she's in the utility room with her head in the washing machine again!

Our suitcases are fully packed, we literally cannot fit any more clothes in, so why it has become an essential job I don’t understand. We don't need any clothes until we come back, but there she is taking more clothes out of the machine, whilst I stand there checking my watch, imagining the plane is on the runway with its engines running.

Waiting when my wife has forgotten I’m waiting for her

Finally, there is the time I am doing a DIY job at home, and I ask my wife to help me or to bring me something if I can't move from where I am. The number of times I have had to go and find my wife to see if she's okay, only to find out she had totally forgotten I had asked her to come in the first place.

Genuinely, this could easily be up to 20 minutes each month, so that’s 5 days I’ve waited patiently with a spanner in my hand.

Embrace lateness (Sometimes)

Ok, so waiting for 5 years might be an exaggeration, but for any impatient person like me, having to wait for your partner or children can push you to your limits.

Life has a funny way of changing our perspectives, and since the pandemic, I've come to embrace lateness with a newfound sense of relaxation and calm. I sometimes find enjoyment in being late myself, and say to my wife “It’s fine, no need to stress”. After all these years of impatience, it really is quite liberating.

So, it's now sometimes my wife who stands by the front door impatiently and says, “If I knew you were going to be this late, I could have put some more laundry in the machine”!

“Patience is the calm acceptance that things can happen in a different order than the one you have in your mind”

David G. Allen

I’ve waited 5 years for my wife