For 21 years now, I have heard the same thing. “What is she doing with you?”

Even I wonder, now.

When I introduced Blue Eyes to my favorite brother-in-law two decades ago, his first word was “Why?” When she blinked her blue eyes and asked what he meant, he said, “Why are you with him?”

I thought that was cruel, even for him.

But I have heard it a few hundred times since then. I am almost used to it.

She is glamorous and graceful, sleek and sophisticated. I am not.

This was all too obvious this weekend when I passed on the Red Sox victory gala on the Charles River because it was Blue Eyes’ birthday. “I don’t want to get shot on my birthday,” she said, referring to the college girl who died in Boston after she was shot by supposedly “nonlethal” equipment.

Hard to argue with that.

Instead, we spent the weekend at our favorite hotel, the swanky Regency in Portland, and watched the parade on television. Like most men, I have no idea what to buy any woman for a birthday present. One year, it was a food processor.

I would never have the nerve to pick out jewelry alone.

So I escorted Blue Eyes to the glittery counters at Macy’s on Saturday. I have had a Macy’s charge card since it was called Jordan Marsh and was ready to spend, spend, spend. Out of habit, I moved to the most expensive items, part of my financial habit. I consider spending money as a form of recreation.

She moved to the cheaper items, part of her financial habit. She guards each dime. She chose a pair of large gold hoop earrings, my favorites.

They were only $16, and with her array of coupons and the prevailing sale prices, the price dropped to only $4, an embarrassing price for any present for a big spender like me.

But I took the item to the register and confidently threw down my Macy’s credit card. I bet you can guess the rest. After fumbling with the card and the company computer, the sales person said my card had been “suspended.”

Since the same thing had happened (different credit card) when I magnanimously offered to pay for supper at the Salt Bay Restaurant a week earlier, she was hardly surprised.

Later investigation determined that I was blameless (sort of) because the card was suspended out of simple lack of activity, not my traditional financial bumbling.

But that didn’t help when she took out her own Macy’s card and bought her own present, the $4 earrings. The look on her face was priceless.

I would have bought her a new Porsche. I didn’t care about the money. But she said, in that tone that women use, “Oh, that’s all right. I will buy my own present.” Ouch.

The planned extravagant birthday dinner also disappeared when we both faded after a long day of mall shopping, which is, after all, the ultimate male present. We ended up with crackers and cheese in the hotel bar at 9 p.m.

“Not exactly what I had in mind for my birthday,” she said.

Even I am now wondering what she is doing with me.

When one more person asked what she was doing with me several years ago, I said, “My mother is paying her.”

Hardly ever at a loss for words, Blue Eyes replied, “Yes, and it’s not enough.”

What is she doing with me?

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.