Little Mr. Can't Be Wrong

Friday night we went to see a band with some friends. We purchased the tickets in advance. J leads the charge down the isle to find our assigned seats. He has his ticket which says H4. He finds the H row and looks at the seat numbers. They are listed 101, 102, 103 ect. He sits in 104 and glances up at me expecting me to sit next to him.

“Honey, I’m not sure these are right. That’s 104 not 4. And mine says H2.”

“I’m sure 104 and 4 are the same thing.” He answers with a slight annoyance in his voice.

“I think we should check the other sides of the isles. I’m sure they wouldn’t put the wrong number on the tickets,” I respond with a slight wince…I’m ready for it.

Luckily, I'm saved.

“Hey” says M our friend ”this is H1 over here.”

“Oh” J says, “Gotcha.” He stands up and smiles at me, giving me a knowing look. Kind of an ‘I’m sorry’, but not really. More of an acknowledgment of “I know I didn’t listen. So you were right. Good for you. Don’t let it go to your head.”

What bothers me is not that he doesn’t believe me when I tell him he may be wrong. It’s just how testy he gets. He is allowed to believe whatever he wants. But over time it has become more and more of a deal to disagree with him. He doesn’t listen to why I disagree. He doesn’t consider what I am saying. He immediately takes defensive action to not be proven wrong.

It’s become very disturbing. The tiniest things can set this off in him. I don’t know how many times I preface statements with

“I’m not sure, but”

or

“I could be wrong, but”

or

“I may be a moron for thinking so, but it occurs to me that there is a possibility that”

just so he doesn’t rev up into defense mode. He just NEEDS to be right so much - it’s kinda scary.

What’s the scariest is that this personality trait is one that I have always noticed in his father.

Yep, I guess it true. We are all destined to become our parents. I know I can lay a mean guilt trip when I want to, a talent I learned from the Master, my mother. However, I am aware of this fact and attempt to squash it when I see it.

I made the mistake of telling this to J. So he’s started policing me as well. What he doesn’t seem to understand is that just because I’m trying not to lay guilt trips doesn’t mean that sometimes, you shouldn’t feel guilty. Every time he does something that disappoints me he will accuse me of laying a guilt trip. He honey, when I tell you that you hurt my feelings, and you feel guilty, that’s not a guilt trip. You SHOULD feel guilty, ok?

Now, when M gets tickets for a VA Tech game, and you get to go see the Hokies play down in Blacksburg, the most perfect place on the planet, and there’s only two tickets, and I say “Oh, it’s ok, I can just watch it on TV…oh, that’s right, it’s not on TV up here. Just get me T shirt, ok? It will be nice to be alone for the weekend during our house renovations. I can paint while you drink beer and do keg stands and hang out with my favorite people in my favorite bars. Someone’s got to stay at home with the dog, so I shouldn’t go anyway.” Now that’s a guilt trip.

Would make my mother proud.

PS...I have a wicked mix of Nicotine withdrawl and PMS going on. Therefore, these little personality quirks of Js are especially annoying, and I am especially bitchy.