Is that show “The Marriage Ref” still on TV? I just googled it. It is.
Well, I have an ongoing argument with Geric that should probably be settled by The Marriage Ref. But since I don’t have time to wait for Tom Papa (Really? Papa is really his last name?) to approve my argument as TV-worthy, I thought I would just ask you all, my faithful blog readers. I know there are a lot of you out there, so weigh in. Even if we’ve never met, all the better because your opinion won’t be skewed by my good looks or my charming personality.
Those of you who know me in real life know what I’m talkin’ about!
I know that if this was fair, and if we really were on The Marriage Ref I would get a chance to say my side and Geric would get a chance to say his, but I’m pretty sure you’re just going to hear my side. I love my hubs, with all my heart, but our writing styles are very different and he can be a little on the long-winded side at times. And I mean that in the most loving and kindest way possible. Really, I do.
So here we go… the argument.
Have you been on the ride, Star Tours, at Disneyland? Not the new version, the old version. Remember the part at the beginning where the little robot in the window is frantically yelling “Brakes! Brakes! Where are the brakes!?!?!”
Well, that’s me every time I’m in the car with my husband at the wheel.
The only way I can accurately describe his driving is frightening. He speeds, he tailgates, he weaves in and out of traffic, he swerves, he talks to me while he drives and tries to make eye contact while doing so… it’s very, very scary. I’m constantly saying things like,”Watch the road,” or “Slow down,” or “Brake lights ahead” all intermingled with a lot of grasping for the handle by my head, gasping, and pushing my invisible passenger side brake pedal with my right foot. I try staying clam, because he tends to get mad when I really freak out, but it’s difficult.
Very, very difficult.
Tonight I was telling him that it feels really disrespectful. Here I am, his wife, telling him that he is the source of my fear and he shrugs it off and says he’s a good driver or I need to calm down or I just need to relax and let him drive. I told him that when my life and my children’s lives are in his hands, I can’t just sit by and watch as his drives us into a mangled mass of metal as the police have to use the jaws of life to remove us from our van, all the while empty Starbucks cups and leftover chicken nuggets are strewn all over the freeway!
Dramatic? I don’t think so.
I’ve offered to drive, but he likes to drive, and frankly I don’t. I’ve tried just looking out my window, but I can’t. I get a neck kink. I’ve tried reading or checking my phone the whole way, but I tend to get a little queasy. Next thing I’m gonna try is sitting in the back-back with Jacob.
Just so you get a bit of his side, he would tell you that we just have different driving styles. (Yeah, mine is safe and his is dangerous.) He would say that he is, in fact, a very good driver because he spends most of his days driving back and forth to LA and all around the city. (Which, does that make you good? I sing in the car everyday and I am no Lady Gaga.) He would say that he has a good driving record, therefore he is safe. (To which I say, taking driving school over and over and showing up at court hoping the police officer doesn’t show up does not mean that you are good driver. It means you know how to get out of a ticket and clean up your record.) He would say that he’s never gotten into an accident that was his fault. (But there’s a first time for everything, right?)
So, that would be his side. (Completely untainted.)
Your turn. Settle this for us. Old friends, new friends, come out of the shadows, I beg you! Do you think I’m overreacting? Do all men drive a little wilder than their ladies, and I just need to chill? Or am I standing on some valid arguments over here? Should I continue to nag him about crazy driving and beg him to protect his precious cargo?