Men are my favorite sex. I like them--from the littlest guy to the elderly sage.
And most of the time we speak the same language.
Note: I said most of the time. Occasionally--thankfully only occasionally--we face each other across the chasm of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus."
I've already said how much I dislike dealing with car problems. I inevitably fall back on asking the men of my life for help, which in this case provided me with unwanted advice.
"It's time to think about buying a new car."
I don't WANT a new car. I LOVE this one. It's been trustworthy, and we've had a lot of great adventures together. I can glance over and see that one little spot on the window where Lucy, my border collie, used to press her nose. She's been gone for two years, but I still wash around that spot when I clean the passenger side of the windshield so there are five little nose prints one on top of the other in a space about three inches wide.
Which is why when the windshield recently got a crack, I pretended to be too busy to take care of it despite repeated encouragement to "Call the insurance company."
And, of course, when I finally admitted what was going on--in the middle of talking about the current automotive issue--the response of "That's silly and superstitious" did nothing to further the discussion.
I adore men. I really, really do. I especially adore this one. However, when I'm looking for emotional reassurance, it's hard when I get back cold, hard logic. I need to grieve for just a little while before I step over the corpse and move on. The female friend I told immediately got it. She reflected back, "Oh, I know how much you love that car."
In a couple of days, I'll be ready to acknowledge the truth of what he's said. Tonight I didn't want to FIX the problem; I just wanted a hug.
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4 comments:
Maybe before you trade the car in, see if you can have the windshield replaced without them breaking it. Keep the noseprints.
Sometimes we just have to let things go - no matter how painful it is. You don't need the car to keep the memories.
Dogs are amazing adepts. They just know stuff. Lucy would probably want you to fix the thing before it resulted in you having an accident because something in the crack distracted you.
After which she'd clean your face ;o)
Thanks, guys.
It's interesting. Most of the time, I can make decisions logically. I think nerves related to the upcoming book release have me resisting change more than usual.
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