Diary of a Sex-Starved Pseudo-Mennonite, Part 25

The Merry Widow (I'm pretty sure she dislikes the moniker but I will use it until she asks me to stop) accompanied me to a concert in the next state yesterday. We had fun and I remain aware of her many fine qualities, but now I understand why she might be difficult to have a relationship with and why I was, too, for at least 30 years.

Merry is 7 years older than me and will not drive on the interstate or even across town if she can help it. She is a planner, anticipating poor outcomes at every turn, and for this reason cannot enjoy Sundays or the day before, the first part, or the last part of a vacation. We discussed this yesterday, so I'm not talkin' shit.

We are both children of alcoholics and I used to be guilty of all of the above. But if I want to have an adventure with Merry, I must drive. When GPS lies to us, she panics and wants answers from me, the person who has also never driven to this place before and who could get lost in a 1 room house.

I say I don't know the solution, offer an idea, then breezily turn the question back towards her. Which she dislikes. Everything worked out fine. It always does. I no longer anticipate poor outcomes or much of anything, really. If I plan for hypothetical details, I might worry about those imaginary circumstances and I don't need that noise. So now I am Merry's sexy, laid back, deceased Pisces husband (yep, he was fishy, too. Her story of his approach to paying bills is a real knee-slapper), but we don't live together or do it. And last I checked, I am currently living.

Free spirit hampered by Merry's anxiety and future trippin', my Idaho self only wanted to drink near silent old men in dive bars. No honey, I don't care to shop. You go ahead and I'll wait here. Take your time and enjoy yourself. I want you to have the experience you're looking for. Really! I am not a person uncomfortable with public time alone. This proposed interval of separation for shopping does not vex me in the least. After multiple attempts, Merry found nothing worth buying.

A dutiful wife, Merry brought ample snacks and did not let us proceed with liquid lunch as was my inclination and worried over my temperature since I all but passed out during our last outdoor hot summer venture and when the concert ran late and I was too tired to drive us home but had to, she was very concerned.

For decades my mother mostly has not driven, like the Merry Widow. Same for my ex's mother. Men had been driving me for years. The thing is, if you always let them drive, will you notice when they are driving you off a cliff?

Since my husband left, I drove to Portland with a puppy by myself in a blizzard along the windiest stretch of the Columbia. I am not supposed to drive more than 90 minutes without stopping and walking cuz of a blood thing. I know nothing of car maintenance and navigation. But I drove 700 miles roundtrip to Portland and 150 miles round trip to Idaho and next week I'll drive almost 300 to The Gorge and back for another concert with my doting wife. And I'll be weary and wish she'd worry less but I'm a man, Dammit, and I gotta do what I gotta do.

Until Next Time, Sweeties!

Ness Sweet Ness