Today’s Complaint(s)

23 Sep

Being married is difficult: the eternal compromising (or as I like to call it, “not getting what I want”), the battle of the thermostat, or the “cereal is not a proper dinner” argument  discussion when, really, define “proper.”   You knew that there wasn’t a whole lot about me that was proper when you married me, so why put dinner under the microscope?  Jolly Ranchers are an improper meal, cereal has fiber.  But I digress.

I can digress until the cows come home, which where I live is 6PM, but apparently when I do that, it’s nagging.  I offer the 6PM as a rough estimate; sometimes the cows are late.  They’re cows- not Amtrak.

Anyway, marriage is tough and raising a kid is work, paying taxes is well, taxing, but riding in a car with my husband- painful.  Which brings us to today’s complaint(s).

He treats parking lots like winding country roads which is odd because we live on a winding country road and his driving there is fine.  Fine, that is, if you overlook his insistence on either constantly accelerating or braking and, as a result, perpetually bearing down on the car in front of us and then stopping because we’re too close.  Then, once a safe distance between vehicles has been established, he switches back to the gas and the looming/braking/looming cycle resumes.

There’s also his refusal to use street air and, finally, the hand.  The hand with limited use- The Steering Hand.

Compared to navigating the Food King parking lot on a Saturday afternoon during a winter Nor’easter with The Steering Hand at the helm, getting stitches in your lip is a night at the opera- without the singing, Italian, horses and dying.  Really, it’s just a play.

Yes, he drove differently before being married; we both did.  I was more hurried than he and while I still tend to run late and act as if movie start times and dinner reservations are suggestions, he believes that rear view mirrors are for losers without neck muscles and relies, instead, on the reactions of others- the gasping, bracing and stomping that I provide.

And even though he has never asked for my input, isn’t it a sign of a healthy marriage to know that your spouse wants your help?  It is difficult for some men to clearly state what they need which is why when he says “stop yelling, you’ll get us killed!” I know that what he really means is “thank you, wife.  If you hadn’t screamed while I was switching lanes (without signaling), we could have gotten into some trouble back there.  What shall we do for our anniversary, my darling?”

I offer “my darling” as an example.  Your spouse may choose a different term of endearment- or at least that’s what he’ll say it is.

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