The Man List

There is a list of subjects that a wife should avoid discussing with her husband if at all possible, unless it is to shower unending complements upon him. And, if the subject must be broached with any hint of critique, she should be ready for an argument to ensue. This list includes such things as BBQing, camp fire building, setting up of audio-visual equipment, and driving. As the first 3 rarely cause the need for hospitalization (at least for others involved), or the worry of untimely widowhood, it is the last of these subjects that is today’s focus.

My husband and I may bicker often, but we actually fight about very few things. The topic of driving, however, can take us from marital bliss to I must have been on crack when I said “I do” to you in 1.5 seconds. I’m admittedly a little flinchy due to self-diagnosed post traumatic stress disorder that I incurred during a spring break episode with a Honda Civic and a semi truck. If you had been awaken from your back-seat slumber while the car you were in was drifting under a semi, you might be flinchy, too. My husband is not admittedly a…well…somewhat aggressive driver. He likes to play this game (loads of fun) in which he sets the cruise control and refuses to break or change speeds no matter what the flow of traffic is doing or how many cars he has to get around. To get around these cars, he often must pull so close you can barely see their tires, then jets around them into a small pocket of space. To make the game more fun, he adds the challenge of talking on his cell phone while doing this, which is an amazing feet, as we drive a stick (1 hand on the phone + 1 to shift = 0 on the wheel). He curses at stop lights and has been known on many occasions to cut through parking lots to avoid red lights. Friends have hinted at this to him (too polite to just come out and say what they’re thinking) which is an indication that he perhaps does go a little overboard sometimes. For instance, once another male friend said, “you’re really hard to follow” when we were caravanning somewhere. Another male friend insists he gets “car sick” unless he himself is driving. I wish they would just come right out and tell him, because as a wife, he is programmed to either disregard my comments regarding driving or react as if I’ve challenged his very manhood. After a few years of dating and six years of marriage, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have one of four choices: have a heart attack, commit myself for anxiety, divorce, or close my eyes and go to my happy place (ahhh cruise ship pool). I lean back, close my eyes, and try to think of anything but driving. This would work if my nervous system didn’t register movement, however I still flinch when I feel a sudden break or lane change.

Now, all of this anxiety is multiplied by the fact that we’re soon to have a child. As children sponge everything from their environment from even before birth, I’m pretty sure our baby’s first words will be some combination of “damn lights” and f*@%!. Not to mention all that serotonin (a neurotransmitter highly responsible for anxiety) flowing through my body can’t possibly be good for little peanut. This problem is compounded by the fact that the only thing I hate worse than being a passenger in a car, is actually driving myself. If I knew where my baby’s ears were, I would put little earmuffs over my belly to block the sounds. I fear peanut, being a sensitive child, would still sense the anger and sheer hatefulness that his/her dad has for a preponderance of other drivers on the road, not to mention those spiteful lights.

All of my own anxiety and anger about my husbands driving style simmers deep down inside me, occasionally boiling to the top and thus, causing a spat. However, just when I’m ready to break down and drive myself, he offers a few glimmers of kindness and patience. We were making the 3 hour drive home, after visiting my family for the weekend, and I was quite obviously exhausted. Not long into the drive my deer husband asked, “What CD would help you to sleep,” thus implying, “you go ahead and take a nap honey, while I steer us safely home.” Now, due to the accident I mentioned earlier, I can’t really sleep in cars anymore. However, on this trip, I may have actually dozed off a few times. So, perhaps I’ll keep him around a little longer. Perhaps I’ll try to be less flinchy (it’s reflexive…honest). And, perhaps I’ll let others be the ones to address issues from the list…at least for a few days.