The Best Part of Being Married.

Minds out of the gutters, people.

Like I would blog about THAT.


There are many, many benefits to deciding to share your life with someone else.  You have a partner in childrearing, a friend to talk to whenever you need to, a housemate, a confidant, a... partner.  Heck, I liked having RJ as a partner so much I married him twice.

But there is no doubt that one of my top three reasons for keeping him around is the fact that he deals with repairs and/or repair people, both of the car and the house variety, for me.  I am normally a very competent woman.  I can pump my own gas, change a tire, tape and sand drywall, lay hardwood floor, and repair a leaky faucet, but for some reason, when faced with a PROFESSIONAL in one of these categories, say a plumber or an auto mechanic or something, I am suddenly reduced to using words like "thingy" and "whasamajig."  I don't know why these folks freak me out so much, but they do.

Recently, as I was pulling in the garage after a long day at work, I noticed - GASP! - that I had a headlight out.

As I walked in the door, I asked, quite nonchalantly I thought, "HiDearhowwasyourdaybythewayIhaveaheadlightout."

I expected immediate action.

I got - "Ok, I'll look at it later."

Really?  Later?  Really?  REALLY?

I kept my cool, but my mind was racing.  What if I had to do it myself?  Go to Autozone?  Not happening.  I had to employ my feminine wiles and go to Plan B.

(Feminine wiles = passive aggressive behavior)

So, a few minutes hours later, I said "So, is it ok if I drive your car tomorrow?  I leave before dark, and I don't want to get pulled over BECAUSE I HAVE A HEADLIGHT OUT."  Serene smile.

At this point, the man instincts kicked in.  That collective consciousness of "Me Man - You Woman" hit and I saw the spark in his eyes.

RJ:  "Oh, I'll run out now and get a bulb."

Me: "Well, I can do it, someday.  Maybe next year.  Or maybe in March.  I think I have a day off in March.  Let's just aim for that.  I'll walk to work until then."

RJ: "I'll get my shoes."

Whew.  Close call.

Fast forward a few weeks, days, hours,  about 45 minutes.

RJ pulls into the garage.  I noticed immediately that there were not one, but two working headlights.

He walks in the door.

Me:  "Thank you, baby.  I appreciate that you did that for me."

RJ: "Well, I had help.  The girl who rang me up at Autozone had to change it for me."

And that's why I love that man.

And THAT'S the best part of being married.

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