My husband and I embarked on quite a road trip last weekend, to participate in the wedding of his best friend. It was a lovely, lighthearted affair with great food.
About three quarters of the way through the ride home, what had been a delightful weekend resulted in MURDER.
Well, not exactly, but we did get into an uncomfortable discussion, stemming from an innocent comedy routine we were listening to.
The comedian was rambling on about how he had not yet found his wife, but when he did, she had better not be “controlling.”
Cue hearty chuckles, because–bitches be crazy.
After a weekend celebrating the love of close friends, where I felt we really got a chance to re-c0nnect, I coquettishly asked A if he thought I was controlling. I think I may have even batted an eyelash or two.
The look A returned me resembled the final fearful pout of a rodent as a peregrine falcon is swooping in on the prey, and said rodent has accepted its doom.
Minutes pass. My eyelashes are growing quite tired, but my eye contact has not wavered.
And A finally says, ” … That wasn’t a rhetorical question?”
Suddenly, all of the oxygen vanishes from our sedan as I transform from Little Bo Peep into She-Ra. I demand an answer to my question. THE RIGHT ANSWER.
I probably should also mention that A is attempting to drive a car during this interrogation, while also dodging my eye daggers. Furthermore, we still have FOUR HOURS of a car ride to go.
My approach to proving my point was mostly verbal judo and creative interpretations of past experiences, with plenty of screeching. He chose calm facts OF COURSE.
Me: “WHEN HAVE I EVER BEEN CONTROLLING?!?!?’
A: “Um. Well. You always have to know what I’m doing …”
Me: “THAT’S CALLED BEING CARING!”
A: “That sounds like a euphemism if I ever heard one …”
Me: “IT’S NOT LIKE I TELL YOU THAT YOU CAN’T DO THINGS.”
A: *glances around incredulously*
Me: “ONLY THE THINGS THAT ARE IN DANGER OF GETTING YOU KILLED.”
A: “Sometimes I imagine you sitting at home, white-knuckle-clutching the couch, just … worrying.”
Me: “I JUST LOVE YOU!”
I don’t think we resolved this … discussion, mostly because I think A was worried I was going to burst a blood vessel or strangle him mid-lane change. But I still do honestly feel there is a fine line between a female being branded with the stereotypical label of “controlling” and just being concerned and attentive.
Here is what Dr. Internet had to say about this topic:
… okay, never mind. That was a terrible idea. Lots of Bible verses.
But now that I know some of A’s views on the subject, I have realized some of the things I request can be let go. He rarely makes the bed correctly, but at least he helps out on occasion. I wish he would DECIDE WHAT TO DO WITH HIS G-DAMN SOCKS THAT I HAVE BEEN PILING ON HIS PILLOW EVERY DAY FOR THE LAST WEEK, but, you see, I have risen above. And there are some things I do that probably drive him crazy, like microwaving metal things and backing up the car without looking for pedestrians.
I guess this is what it’s like to be married. So to Phil and Hoagie–our friends that entered into this sacred arrangement only days ago–may you grow to love each other’s quirks. And just listen to whale sounds while driving.