In addition to our major ideological, dietary, and wardrobe differences, Jonathan and I also have some noticeable differences in temperament. While he tends to be a take-things-as-they-are type of person, I can face bad news by immediately bursting a blood vessel in my eye, fainting, and hitting my head on a table which causes a moderate traumatic brain injury and puts me in the emergency room for three days.
While some might see this as a potential problem in our relationship, I feel it lends us an important aspect of balance. I’d like to think, from Jonathan, I’m learning the value of patience; and I’d like to think, from me, Jonathan is learning the value of a health insurance plan with good emergency room coverage.
Last year I bought my first-ever brand new car. I’d made Jonathan do the bulk of the what-car-to-buy research for me—partially because he has a worrisome addiction to consumer reports, and partially because my Corolla had been totaled on my way home from visiting him, so it was entirely his fault. (On a related note, the accident happened on July 4th, and I’d gotten into a previous accident on January 1st that year, which is why I no longer drive on federal holidays.)
Despite the fact that it’s almost always covered with bird poop, I’ve been pretty satisfied with the car. That is, until recently, when I discovered that the model I’d chosen was being investigated after a driver’s ear was sliced in half when his airbag deployed.
And by “the model I’d chosen,” I obviously mean “the model it’s now clear that Jonathan coerced me into buying because he doesn’t care at all about my facial symmetry AND WANTS TO SEE ME SUFFER.”
As soon as I heard the news about my car, I emailed Jonathan in a warranted panic. Which looked something like this—
Me: JONATHAN!!!! (article attached)
Jonathan: Sorry to hear about the future of your left ear.
Me: You practically forced me to get that car. I’m blaming this on you.
Jonathan: I am calling shenanigans.
Me: I can’t hear you. The car you forced me to buy sliced off my ear.
Jonathan: YOU SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT AMERICAN!
Me: WHAT? I’M SORRY; MY REMAINING EAR ONLY SPEAKS SPANISH.
He stopped responding to me after that, which I’m assuming means I won that round. Histrionics: 1. Logic: 0.
P.S. You’ll notice that when Jonathan texts or emails me he doesn’t use contractions, which makes him sound sort of like a robot. This is because he got so annoyed with me constantly correcting his apostrophes that he stopped using them altogether. TOUCHE, JONATHAN.