The number one cause of strife within my marriage (besides that irksome Taylor Swift) is when Poor Kyle doesn’t believe me.
I married a very doubtful man. He doubts everything: manufacturers’ promises, the power of exercise, hybrid cars, everything. But especially me.
Case in point:
Back when Poor Kyle and I were discussing whether or not to purchase a new Jetta, it came to our knowledge that a friend of Poor Kyle’s had the kind of car we were looking for and had been considering selling it. I suggested maybe we should ask him first if he wanted to sell it to us before we started looking online or at dealerships, because my beloved Grandpappy always used to say the best deals are closest to home, but NO. PK shut me down instantly:
PK: No, that would be weird.
Me: Why? He might give us a deal.
PK: You can’t get deals from friends. It’s a bad idea.
Me: Okay.
Later, though, we went to see our favourite salesman at our favourite dealership (we like to dream about buying new cars, and incidentally have our very own car salesman who probably hates us because we never buy cars from him, but whatever. Brad rocks.), incidentally the same man who had sold Poor Kyle’s friend the car he is thinking about selling, and watch what happened…
Brad our Volkswagen BFF: Hey, did you think about asking so-and-so about his car? I heard he was looking to sell it.
PK: Really? Hmmm…that’s a good idea. Maybe we will.
Me: (Sputtering) But…but…me…my idea…humph.
Another time, we were looking into buying some acreage here in Mayberry so we could build our dream house before the age of 30 (don’t worry, that idea fell through), and I suggested to Poor Kyle that we make our offer REALLY low, because it never hurts to ask, and once again, I was shot down.
PK: No, we don’t want to offend them.
Me: What do we care if they’re offended? It’s business. At worst, they’ll say “no,” which, you’re right, they probably will. But they COULD say yes, and we never know unless we try…
PK: No.
Me: Okay.
(I tend to give up in the face of confrontation. I’m a quitter. Plus I hate marital dischord. So I just let it fester in my soul until one day Poor Kyle and I can’t decide where to eat for dinner and it all explodes: WHY DO YOU CARE WHERE I WANT TO EAT TONIGHT? YOU NEVER VALUE MY OPINIONS ANYWAY! IT’S A MIRACLE YOU EVEN BELIEVED ME WHEN I SAID I WOULD MARRY YOU! WHICH, COME TO THINK OF IT… No, just kidding.)
Later, though, we were talking to Poor Kyle’s dad about our idea to buy some acreage, and watch what happened…
PK: …so yeah, we’re really excited about it.
PK’s Dad: Okay, well…why don’t you offer X amount (even LOWER than what I had suggested as a low price) and see what happens.
PK: Really? You think? I don’t want to offend anyone.
PK’S Dad: Offend them? What do you care about their feelings? You don’t know them! It’s business!
PK: Yeah, you’re right. Okay, we will give them that insanely low offer. Thanks, Dad, for all your GOOD ADVICE.
Me: (Sputtering) But…but…me…my idea…humph.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a woman, or because I’m so much younger than my husband, or because he flat-out thinks of me as a total and utter dodo bird, but for whatever reason, he doesn’t ever trust my ideas, even when they are awesome, which is always.
Someday he’ll see the light.
Maybe not today, and maybe not before it’s too late, but the light will be seen.
Mark my well-chosen words.
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