It’s Alive! The Married, Joint-Decision-Making Brain Cell

And, another thing… Exactly at what point in married life do you hand over the ability to make decisions all on your own? Apparently, pretty early into it. Years ago I would have sneered about what I’m about to share with you. But, today?

Well, it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, for meeeee….

I used to think when I was single that all those married women, standing in line before me at some cashier’s counter or before a sales person – taking up space and time – were wimps. Seriously. Calling their husbands to ask them what they thought about XYZ? Puh, lease. Grow some cajones.

I now know better. These women were high-level strategists. Machiavelli mavens. Sheer geniuses. Forgive me, oh, goddesses.

You see, yesterday I bought a new car. Okay, it was a new used car. But, new to me, nonetheless.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve bought a car. Rather, it was my sixth trek to the car nursery to pick up a new baby, all of which were handled on my own. I started as I always do. I knew what I wanted, did my research, and went to CarMax where I knew I wouldn’t be hassled with those stupid selling techniques. (May I take your credit card to my manager to show you are serious? And, let me check with my manager to see what I can do. Blah, blah, blah. Then, 14 hours later you’re still sitting there haggling over $100.)

So, per my past experience, I ordered the car online from www.carmax.com, showed up, drove it, decided to buy it. Simple. Well, yesterday, something additional clicked in. I did not realize this change until I found myself dialing Husband’s cell phone number for the eighth time to ask him a question during the car buying spree.

I had questions about trade in value (for my old car), insurance, extended warranties, key location (where on earth did you put the extra key that they now want to reclaim? for the car I was trading in), and, if I should declare the new car as “commercial” since I use it for business. I could have made educated guesses myself, easily. However, something inside me whispered eerily, Waaaaait a second. Caaaalll Husband, Caaaalllll Husband.”

Interestingly, my sales guy praised me for this non-stop calling. (By the way, Salesguy had the same first name as Husband. Do you think they plan that sort of thing?). I apologized for calling so many times in front of him. But, he said, oh, no, don’t apologize, I’m actually impressed. My wife would never do that. She’d just say either you are on board or you aren’t.

(I need to talk to this woman. She needs to be clued in on the genius-ness of “checking in.”)

You see, it’s not that I don’t have my own answers or opinions about car selling and buying. It’s just that a “brain cell” (obviously only awakened by a marriage certificate) came alive providing some very important insight during my visit to Carmax. All those calls to Husband? Well, I was just subscribing to what all those women, who I sneered at years ago, know:  if you don’t loop them early into the decision making you are left alone with said decisions when you return home. This could be a very, very bad thing.

Rather, these “check-in” women are Avoid and Share the Blame Responsibility Experts – as in avoiding the dreaded why did you do that? questions or looks when you do it yourself. By asking Husband lots of questions, anything that gets decided (or brought home) is now a joint decision or at least a joint purchase. I checked in with you, say these sly ladies who know the drill.  If you wanted to know whether or not it had cruise control, ya’ should have asked me when I was on the phone with you for the 18th time!

See?

So, now my new old victim car sits in our drive. And, last night, when Husband came home, he just parked his own car, peeked in the windows of my new one as he walked by, and strolled right into the house. Not a word said. Not a single question. Ah, peace.

Side Note: I actually teared up a bit when I handed over the keys to my old BMW X5. Me and the X5, well, we’ve been through a lot together. Albeit, they were very expensive memories. In five years I replaced the entire cooling system at least three times, replaced gaskets (Don’t be fooled by the innocent-sounding little things. They are evil incarnate when they blow.), twice had the electrical system worked on, twice replaced the tires and brakes (at more than $1,000 a pop), and just last week, the alternator. Come to think of it, I must be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. I understand the ole X5 is going to auction. Payback’s a bitch.