For Better or For Worse

This entry from Dooce’s site is hilarious and not unlike a lot of couples, especially Howard and myself.

Howard and I love to travel, as you longtime readers know. We love road trips and plane trips alike. We enjoy it and often bring home great stories after it’s all said and done.

What most of you don’t hear or read about are the screaming matches usually done in the preparation process.

Especially if we’re packing things in the car or checking in at an airline. And oh my God, map reading.

I’m fairly certain that the people at the PenAir counter in Anchorage gird their loins when they see me or Howard hauling our gear to fly back to our village because usually there is visual steam coming from our ears and noses and we’re flinging expletives at each other and calling each other every horrible thing you can think of; perpetuating the redneck stereotype that we already face by being southern transplants. Then it’s all:

“Good morning, we’re checking in” through forced smiles at the poor ticket counter attendant.

We’ve threatened death and divorce on many occasions.

Like the one time we were driving around in Manhattan and I was reading the map. A goddamn AAA atlas that clearly left out a few streets, namely the one we happened to be looking for.

Of course, Howard was driving and just knew that I didn’t know how to read a map.

We were screaming at each other and I told him I hated him and wanted a fucking divorce.

And you know I was smug as hell when we pulled over, he looked at the map, and saw that I was indeed right and apparently DID know how to decipher a map.

An hour later, we were laughing about it over brunch, attributing most of our nasty words and verbal mud slinging to hunger. We apologized, and walked arm in arm all over Manhattan that day without an angry word between us.

I’d lay bets that most couples go through the same thing in different situations and if you don’t, well, here’s your fucking medal. Not all of us are perfect.*grins*

What I do love about it is that five minutes afterwards, we’re over it. There’s no pouting, no grudges, no “oh honey, you hurt my feelings…waaah.” We do apologize to each other and then it’s done. I love that we’re comfortable and secure enough with each other to know that we really don’t want a divorce and really don’t want kill each other. It’s just how we are, it’s how we cope and just get it all out. In the end, there’s no resentment and no pent up emotions.

We also make sure the guns and any items that can be flung hard enough to cause bodily injury are well out of reach. It would just be awkward to try and get over, especially if one of us has a broom shoved up our ass.

2 Responses

  1. Tom Says:

    You’re right. Your mom and I get mad but we’re over it in five minutes.

    Hang in there.

  2. Howard Says:

    Hold on, Honey, the divorce lawyer is on the other line…He told me it was great that I never taught you to load the rifles.

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