How to admit you’re wrong (and be an asshat about it)

In the years since December 1996, when Dave and I first started dating, I’ve had to do the lion’s share of admitting to being wrong – I’ve been wrong about whether a wet head gives you colds (apparently there’s these tiny things called viruses that are more to blame and that are not attracted to wet hair follicles – who knew), whether eating too much chocolate makes you break out in zits (I’m still not completely buying the hormone hypothesis because it means that I’ve been hormonal now for 30 years), and whether it’s really that important to separate white and colored clothes while doing the laundry (apparently Dave is against wearing light pink underwear – not as in touch with his feminine side as other men I suppose). Sooo, I’ve become really quite good at being passive aggressively sheepish about my mistakes. Which makes the following conversation, conducted early one Sunday morning, par for the course in our household:

Me (enthusiastically): I’m going to get up and go to the store early so I can avoid the Sunday afternoon shoppers!

Dave (suspiciously): What?! Why?

Me (professorially): Because we need stuff for the kids’ lunches and fruit and vegetables and milk and yogurt. And I’m running out of things to make with frozen peas, salsa, and turkey pepperoni slices.

Dave (interrogatively): But why do you want to go to the store so early today??!

Me (firmly): Because I don’t want to run into the crazy Sunday evening crowd

Dave (incredulously): I’ve been begging for years to go early on a Sunday and we’ve never managed it – so what’s changed today?

Me (exasperatedly): Because David, I’m having a torrid affair with a check out clerk and we like to snog in the world food aisle?! Why are you looking a gift horse in the mouth? Just accept that I want to go and you want to go – look, finally after so many years we’re on the same page – so be happy dude! Unclench already, what’s damaging your calm!!

Dave (petulantly): Because I WANT you to say that I was RIGHT all along for wanting to go to the grocery store early on a Sunday, I WANT you to say that I have the BEST ideas, and that you’ve been an absolute FOOL for not listening to me – why don’t you give me what I WANT!!!

[NOTE: I know this last line by Dave sounds like a sex related complaint – or maybe that’s just my mind – but trust me, there was NOTHING even remotely sexy about this conversation!!]

Me (passive aggressively): Fine – you’re right and I’m wrong Dave, why didn’t I listen to you when you are obviously so much superior to me in everything!

Dave (gently): There – was that so hard? And don’t you feel much better now!

Me (politely, docilely, good-naturedly and softly): AAAARRRRRGGGHHH DAVID!!

And this is what passes for completely reasonable conversation in our house! And how we are so good into turning even the little things into effing nightmares!!  Apparently, while we are quite compatible about the big stuff – raising kids, climate change, women’s rights, the importance of the scientific method (my evolving views on colds and chocolates notwithstanding) – boy, do we EVER sweat the small stuff!!

[Update: Apparently asshat is one word and not two!! You learn something new everyday!]

For the Weekly Writing Challenge.



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