The Husband is obligated to commute for his job. As a commuter, and a person with a penis, he became obsessed with finding the perfect commuter car. Since he's old and practical and past the age where chicks are going to be impressed with him, he was torn between the Prius and the Jetta, two veritable chick magnets to be sure.
Being thoughtful and logical, much like our President, The Husband decided to do some "research" before deciding which vehicle to choose. Many months were spent on "research" before a decision could be reached. Truth be told, I'm fairly certain he didn't actually "do" any of the "research" himself, but rather "read" the research of others. Which is, to him, doing research, and to me, reading. When I work in the yard, I'm "puttering", when he sprays Roundup, he's "working". This is but one of our many differences.
(As I'm writing this, Jennifer Hudson is on VH1...and she looks absolutely wonderful. She's gone from fat to fabulous. She's now such a thin mint...I'm so envious.)
I have a grown son from a previous marriage who also commutes and I was telling him about The Husband's quest for the perfect vehicle. When I told him The Husband was considering buying a diesel Jetta, my son said "Mom, only gay guys drive Jetta's". The Husband, like most men of his generation, would usually shudder at the thought that someone might think he was gay. I debated telling him about the Jetta/Gay connection thinking it might be more fun to tell him "after" he bought one. Then I could spring it on him...in a good way, of course..."Sweetie...is there something you're trying to tell me by buying that Jetta???"
The choice to preserve my marriage won out and I told him about the conversation with The Son (This makes it sound like I'm referring to Jesus, doesn't it??? Guess I'll have to come up with another Stoopid name for him). Now, I was pretty sure that The Husband might be swayed by this bit of information, but again he surprised me "I don't care" he said "I'll just get a bumper sticker that says NOT A HOMO". Cracked me up. I now refer to his beloved Jetta as the "Homobile" (I know it's politically incorrect, but the name just...fits)...behind The Husband's back, of course.
The reason for this lengthy discourse...if there is one, is that the Homobile is a constant source of friction between me and The Husband. The Homobile is his "baby". He washes it, vacuums it (he never vacuums the house), waxes it, and would probably blanket it at night if he had a down comforter that would cover it. Every time I drive it we seem to get into some sort of argument. I drive it too fast, I use the brake too much, I bump into curbs...the list of crimes committed against the Homobile by yours truly is a mile long. And each crime can and is intimately detailed by The Husband long after the original occurrence.
Last night we went to a local restaurant (I had liver & onions...yum...most people hate it) for dinner. I drove as is usually the case, because frankly, I'd like to get there before midnight, and The Husband is and has always been, a Booberdoober (one who drives consistently below the speed limit).
As we leave the parking lot, The Husband feels the need to point to the parking curb in the space we've just exited and warn me for the umpteenth time that I need to be careful not to run into those because it could rip the bumper off his precious Homobile. We immediately exchanged words.
Me: "I didn't hit it"
Husband: "I didn't say you did...I'm just telling you" as he does every time I drive the royal ride.
More words ensued in this exchange and he even said, after being spoken to harshly by me, "I'm not gonna censor myself". Here I become impressed that he used the word correctly however I'm also certain that were he to spell in in a sentence he would spell it "sensor". (Just a little dig but it made me feel better)
The rest of the ride home was filled with complete silence...not a single word was spoken the entire way. Fortunately it was dark when we got home and I was tired, so I put a load of clothes in the washer, took a bath, and went to bed. Yes, I punished him by going to bed early and giving him complete control over the remote control. It was very mature of me and I'm sure he was heart broken to get to watch the Weather Channel for the rest of the night (which he L O V E S). I showed him...boy howdy.
When we have a disagreement, our house is quiet. Neither of us are yellers, we both clam up, so there have been days of silence in the past. They pass...eventually...this too, shall pass.
In order to resolve this continuing conflict, I've decided henceforth, to boycott the Homobile. No longer will I opt for fuel efficiency even in these days of outrageous gas prices. No longer will I enjoy the comfort of heated seats (I'm really gonna miss those) and the non commercial satellite radio. I will be a martyr and will suffer in silence. (Unless, of course, I really need to go somewhere and that's the only car available...I mean come on, I can only sacrifice so much...)
I'm also quite sure that The Husband will not even notice my boycott, so in effect, I'm cutting off my nose to spite my face. But I'll know...
I'm also going to secretly get a rainbow bumper sticker and put it on the back bumper of the Homobile...so when he drives it, people will really think he's gay. I realize it's probably the height of immaturity to do this....but I don't care...it's the stoopidist thing.