What's the quickest way to a man's heart?

(originally posted 11/28/05)
"What's the quickest way to a man's heart?" DH asks me.

Thinking this was a romantic riddle of some sort, I smile and come up with what I think to be the correct response.

"Food?" I say coquettishly.

He, knowing I won't guess the answer correctly no matter how many tries I take, cuts to the chase to answer the question himself.

"The quickest way to a man's heart," he says, "is with a sharp knife through the fifth intercostal space adjacent to the sternum."

"Oh." I say with an air of confusion and shock mixed together. Clearly, he isn't trying to be romantic after all...morbid is more like it.

I then realize his goofy joke is the result of his gross anatomy class. On this particular day, he learned how to cut out the heart of his cadaver. It all starts to make sense now.

Little did I know, however, I was going to need to pay close attention to the answer for this would be the first of many times he asks me this question hoping that I can remember the correct answer. I think he’s secretly formulating a comedy routine for the two of us.

Oh....and I'm the monkey in the routine.

A couple of days later, while in the bathroom getting ready for the day, he asks me the question again, “What’s the quickest way to a man’s heart?”

I freeze.

"Um, with a knife to the space left of the fifth ventricle next to the supersternal notch?"

I didn't know what I was saying; I was just meshing together words that I had heard before in doctor shows that I thought might closely resemble the correct answer.

Not a chance. He caught my bluff instantly.

"No, silly!" he jokes, "remember? It's with a sharp knife to the fifth intercostal space adjacent to the sternum!"

"Oh, right!" I say again feeling awkward. I quickly apply my mascara and take off.

After a few more of these caught-off-guard moments, the strangeness of the question dulled and I finally was able to answer him exactly the way he trained me. When prompted with the question, my eyes would glaze over and in a monotone, robot-like trance I would rattle off the answer perfectly,
"With a sharp knife to the fifth intercostal space adjacent to the sternum,” I drone.

His pride abounded and we have since taken the act on the road.

I have yet to receive the kippered herring reward that should be thrown in the air for me to catch in my mouth for a job well done.