You know what’s funny about retirement? Most of us guys walk into it thinking we’ve got it all figured out. We’ve done the math, checked the 401(k), maybe even bought that RV we’ve been eyeing.

But then our wives give us that look – you know the one – that says “I tried to tell you.”

After 35 years in management, I thought I knew a thing or two about planning ahead. Turns out, my wife had been spotting my blind spots for decades. And from talking to my golf buddies and the guys at the coffee shop, I’m not alone in this.

1. Thinking money is the only thing that matters

Ever notice how we men love our spreadsheets? I spent years obsessing over retirement calculators, investment returns, and withdrawal rates. Meanwhile, my wife kept asking questions like “But what are you going to DO all day?” and “Have you thought about who you’ll spend time with?”

Turns out she was onto something. But did I listen? Of course not. I was too busy rebalancing my portfolio for the hundredth time.

The first month of retirement hit me like a brick wall. Sure, the bank account was healthy enough, but I was climbing the walls by day three. No meetings to attend, no problems to solve, no purpose to fulfill. My wife just smiled and pulled out a list of volunteer opportunities she’d been collecting for two years.

2. Underestimating healthcare costs (by a lot)

Remember when you were 40 and felt invincible? Yeah, me too. When my wife suggested we should save extra for medical expenses, I waved her off. “We’ll have Medicare,” I said confidently.

Here’s what Fidelity has to say about that: The biggest mistake retirees make is not planning for healthcare costs – a 65-year-old couple can expect to spend around $300,000 on health care in retirement. Three hundred thousand dollars! That’s not pocket change, even if you’ve saved well.

My wife had been squirreling away money in a separate health savings account for years, despite my protests that we were “over-saving.” Guess who’s grateful for that cushion now that we’re dealing with dental implants, hearing aids, and prescription costs that Medicare doesn’t fully cover?

3. Having zero hobbies that don’t involve work

For 35 years, my hobby was… working. Maybe some TV on weekends.

My wife, on the other hand, had her book club, gardening, yoga classes, and pottery. She’d constantly nudge me: “You need something outside of work.” My response? “Work IS my hobby.”

The day I retired, she was ready with her watercolors and hiking boots. I had… nothing. Absolutely nothing. The learning curve from “guy who lives for quarterly reports” to “guy who has actual interests” is steeper than you think.

Now do lots of things. I walk my golden retriever Lottie every morning at 6:30 AM and take my grandkids on nature walks, but it took me months to stop feeling guilty about not being “productive.”

4. Ignoring the social network collapse

You know what nobody tells you about retirement? Your social circle shrinks faster than a wool sweater in hot water.

Those work friends you grabbed lunch with every day? Gone. The colleagues you complained to about management? History.

My wife saw this coming from space. She’d been building and maintaining friendships outside of work for decades. Me? I figured I’d just… figure it out. Spoiler alert: sitting alone at home wondering why nobody calls anymore isn’t a retirement plan.

5. Refusing to talk about aging and decline

We men are great at avoiding uncomfortable conversations, aren’t we? When my wife wanted to discuss things like long-term care insurance, powers of attorney, or what happens if one of us needs help with daily activities, I’d suddenly remember I needed to check something in the garage.

She wasn’t being morbid – she was being realistic. After my minor heart scare at 58, I finally understood why she’d been pushing these conversations. Planning for the best while preparing for the challenges isn’t pessimism; it’s wisdom. And wives seem to have an endless supply of it.

6. Thinking retirement means doing absolutely nothing

Picture this: a man sitting in a recliner, remote in hand, with nowhere to be and nothing to do. Paradise, right? Wrong. So very wrong.

My wife tried to warn me that humans need purpose like plants need water. But I was convinced that after decades of meetings and deadlines, doing nothing would be heaven. Two weeks in, I was reorganizing the garage for the third time and driving her crazy with my restlessness.

The truth is, retirement isn’t about doing nothing – it’s about doing what matters. My wife had this figured out years ago, which is why she had already researched volunteer opportunities, part-time consulting gigs, and community programs before I even cleared out my office.

7. Forgetting your spouse has retirement dreams too

Here’s the big one, the mistake that could torpedo your golden years faster than a bad investment (and believe me, I’ve made those too). We assume our retirement vision is THE retirement vision. Fish every day? Perfect! Move to Florida? Obviously! Buy that motorcycle? It’s time!

Meanwhile, your wife has been planning her own retirement – one that might involve traveling to see grandkids, taking art classes, or finally starting that small business she’s dreamed about. When was the last time you actually asked her what she wants retirement to look like?

After 35 years of working, I had to learn that my wife’s love language was acts of service, not gifts. Retirement gave me the chance to finally show up – really show up – in ways I never could when work always came first. All those school plays and soccer games I missed? I can’t get them back, but I can make sure I don’t miss the next chapter of our life together.

Final thoughts

Looking back, every “I told you so” from my wife was really an “I love you enough to see what you can’t.” Our wives aren’t trying to rain on our retirement parade – they’re trying to make sure we actually enjoy the parade instead of standing on the sidelines wondering what went wrong.

The smartest thing I did in retirement? Finally started listening to the woman who saw it all coming. Turns out, after all those years of thinking I was the planner in the family, she was playing the long game all along.