What kind of car is your mate?
GRIN # 398
Six weeks after Tyler was born, Jerry and I went out sans baby for the first time. We went to dinner with two other couples, and, man was it awesome to get out without the baby.
So we’re all sitting around and I can’t remember how it came about but the guys started talking about what kind of cars their wives reminded them of.
Of course then we all looked at Jerry. Me, in particular, seeing as how I still looked about seven months pregnant and was bleary-eyed from no sleep and shot nerves. I’ve never made any bones about how hard I think infants are. I really needed a compliment.
Jerry, in his defense, looked completely panicked.
“Well?” I asked. “What kind of car do I remind you of?”
“A BUICK!!! After a Jaguar and a Beetle, you come up with a Buick? Thanks a lot!” Ass, I wanted to add but didn’t.
“What did you want me to say?” he asked, clearly bewildered. This was going bad fast and it was a long ride home.
“I don’t know! How about a convertible or a Lexus? Something fancy or fun! Not a Buick!”
I was quiet on the way home–for a few minutes.
“Is that how you see me–a stodgy machine that’s boxy, yet reliable?”
Jerry just looked at me. He does not bite when someone’s fishing for compliments. He just doesn’t.
But he did try. The best he could offer was this: “At least I didn’t say Oldsmobile!”