When I started dating my husband, we were both 18. Babes at sea, I think now. One of the things that I loved about him was that he didn’t have an especially boy-centric taste in movies or books or music. He wasn’t a fan of shoot-’em-up flicks, and didn’t rush out to see the newest Sylvester Stallone movie (insert affectionate nudge nudge to a certain You-Know-Who)
(and I don’t mean Voldemort).
Instead, my then-boyfriend enjoyed his share of quirky movies like The Royal Tenenbaums, or chick flicks like Love, Actually or even Sense and Sensibility. Wait–did I take a vow of silence on that one? I can’t quite remember . . . oh well, too late.
The point is that for a long time, I thought that in the realm of entertainment-centered marital conflicts, I had gotten off scot-free. I heard other women talk about little spats with their spouses involving what to watch on TV, or what movie to pop in on a Friday night, and I chuckled to myself inside, feeling smug and superior.
Oh, does pride ever come before the fall.
Because then, 10 years into our relationship, while in Alaska, the show Ice Road Truckers entered his life.
The 3rd season of this show centers around the runs that drivers working for Carlile Trucking make from Fairbanks to DeadHorse, over a road literally made of ice.
Look! We spotted a Carlile truck just south of Fairbanks!
Anyway, there we were in Alaska, and my husband’s excitement about this show was gushing forth. We watched a couple episodes, I learned some interesting things, and that was that. I wasn’t a huge fan. But the next evening:
“Let’s watch another episode of Ice Road Truckers!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.
“But . . . I don’t even like that show! What about Design Star?”
“But what about Ice Road Truckers?”
“What about Project Runway? You like Tim Gunn, don’t you?”
“But the Polar Bear is about to make his first run to DeadHorse! And Jack is in the middle of a snowstorm with an oversize load!”
“But it’s just dudes in a truck, over and over again!”
Oh my word. I was in the middle of a little entertainment friction. And I couldn’t believe my own ears.
So let it be known: if you’re just beginning your relationship with a man-type person and you think he’s just into quirky indie films and chick flicks like you, beware. One day he’ll decide that he only wants to watch Ice Road Truckers. And Ice Road Truckers alone will he watch. And watch he will only Ice Road Truckers. And you’ll have to have a small show-down about whether you’re watching Ice Road Truckers or Project Runway. And you will savor a nice piece of a dessert called ‘Humble Pie.’
“But honey,” I tried to reason, “all the episodes are the same! It’s just a bunch of people driving! And they just create all this drama from silly stuff–like that time that Lisa just slips on the ice but they make you think she’s dead or something just to hype things up before the commercial break! The drama is totally made up!”
And then I rememebr the silly drama on this season of Project Runway between Bert and everyone else . . . and I can’t really continue to debate the thing along those lines. I try to think up a different tactic. And then I remember that I married a man.
And I’m a woman.
And dude . . . we’re different. But that’s okay.
“I’ll watch Ice Road Truckers,” I’ll finally consent, “but I need to pop some popcorn, lie on your lap, and you need to give me an avalanche of back skritchies to get me through it!”
And then we’re both happy. I guess I’ll do anything for some good back-skritchy laden snuggling.
Plus, he’s kinda cute . . .
. . . I think I’ll keep him.