Go To Bed Angry

Photo by hang_in_there via Flickr

“Never go to bed angry” is a bit of relationship advice that you’ll get from every relationship guru on the planet. Clearly, these know-it-alls have never driven a team truck with a co-driver. Well, in my infinite knowledge *cough*, I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to go to bed angry. Sometimes it’s even the smartest thing that you can do.

When The Evil Overlord and I started looking into truck driving, I talked to a lot of truck drivers. As a dock worker, I had access to plenty of them. And as you well know from reading my blog and my twitter stream, it’s not exactly hard to get a truck driver to talk. Anyway, when these truckers discovered that I planned to drive as a team with my wife, nearly every trucker had the same advice: “Don’t do it if you want to stay married.” There’s a lot of truth to this.

Many a story has been passed around about team drivers not getting along, whether it be husband and wife teams, two members of the same-sex, or even two unmarried members of the opposite sex. Nearly everyone has heard stories of two co-drivers duking it out on the shoulder of the highway. Quite frankly, I’m a little peeved that I haven’t witnessed even one knock-down drag-out in all my 13 years. Other tales involve one of the team members being stranded somewhere by a co-driver. I’m sure that The Evil Overlord has contemplated this on numerous occasions. Luckily for me, she hasn’t had the cojones to do it just yet. The point is, if you want to drive a truck as a team, you had better choose the right co-driver.

So who is the “right” co-driver? Well, it better be someone you get along with… a lot. Not just someone who you think is okay. Not just someone who seems like a nice person. You need to know this person intimately. Husband and wife is a likely pairing, but if you already get annoyed by your spouses habit of picking their toenails and leaving them lying around, getting into a truck cab with them is only going to make things worse. That’s like those demented couples who think that having a baby will help their already-stressed relationship. Yea. A crying infant that craps more than a herd of water buffalo is great for one’s nerves.

Parent and child teams can sometimes work, although I’d imagine that would take a certain kind of relationship that I can’t possibly comprehend. More common would be co-driving brothers or sisters. After all, your sibling already knows all of your annoying habits yet they still answer the doorbell when you ring it instead of diving behind the couch. Best friends can manage it too, but you better make sure you’ve known this person long enough to know most of their faults. Another plus is that you can slug a best friend now and then, and still remain friends. Still, losing a best friend because of trucking would kinda suck and stuff. I also hold little hope for two people who choose to team together just to make more money. Likewise for someone who wants a co-driver just so they won’t be so lonely.

Now every team is going to have spats. There’s no getting around it. Any time you have two people crammed into such tight quarters for weeks at a time, bad stuff is bound to happen. And let me tell you from experience, that certain bodily functions really don’t help matters any. The key is knowing when to drop, or ignore, the subject. In other words; when to go to bed angry.

I’ve found that the longer you remain in the truck together, the quicker the tempers get. The Evil Overlord and I have figured out that it’s dangerous for us to stay out more than three weeks at a time. Any longer and someone is likely to wake up with a bungee cord wrapped around their neck. Your threshold may be different. Sometimes you’ve just got to realize that what you’re fighting about has little to do with the topic at hand, and much to do with the fact that you’re just edgier than a wet golfer in a lightning storm.

When you get to the point that the sound of the other person’s voice makes you want to drive into the nearest telephone pole (after putting your seat belt on, of course), the last thing you need to do is stay awake and try to talk the issue out before you go to bed. The thing is, it takes time and experience to know when there’s a legitimate argument going on and when you’re just pissed off about nothing in particular. Until you’re able to figure that out, you’re treading on thin ice. But if you can go to bed angry, many times you wake up and life goes on as normal. Turns out, it was a stupid argument over stupid stuff.

Again, I stress that this is only if you both realize that you’re fighting over trivial things. If you’ve got big, legitimate issues, you probably need to have some overnight talks. I’m sure that your dispatcher will give you a night or two down if you tell them that someone’s going to be murdered if you don’t get a break soon.

The fact is, team driving is hard. When you’re a solo driver, you get to shut the truck down and sleep in peace. If you’re a team that’s working for a good company, you’re going to be busier than a corn cob pipe vendor at a hootenanny. That means that you’re going to be moving most of the time. Learning how to sleep while you bounce is perhaps the hardest thing that team drivers have to get used to. On I-40 in Tennessee, you’ll sleep like a stoner. On I-95 going through New York City, you’ll think your co-driver has learned some sic black magic skills and is practicing levitating your prone body.

People get crabby when they can’t sleep. Crabby people attack the person within reach. Solo drivers would have to go find somebody to scrap with, but a team driver has someone just sitting there asking for it. I’m convinced that the lack of quality sleep is another factor in the ongoing battle between co-drivers. Unfortunately, the driving route you take isn’t always in your hands. Neither is the choice to shut down to get some real sleep.

So here’s my advice to those of you who may be considering team driving. If you like your potential co-driver, and are willing to accept that you might occasionally, but briefly, hate this person for no reason whatsoever, go for it. If you have a history of working things out and tolerating each other, go ahead. If you have any doubts, either drive as a solo driver, or not at all.

Now, if it’s too late and you’ve already chosen a co-driver that is driving you to the loony bin, here’s my advice. For now; go to bed angry. As soon as possible, find a new co-driver or go solo. And you should probably toss that steel-tipped tire thumper out the window before someone gets hurt.

*So do you have any co-driver related stories? Or even better, have you witnessed a thrown down on the side of the highway? Delight us all with you stories by leaving a comment. If you enjoyed this post, please pass it along on whatever social network that you’re addicted to. Thanks.*

A Blog Comment Answered

I got a comment from @TrulyHeidi on the blog post “Feel the love, you mean ol’ hag.” Being the windbag that I am, my reply turned into a blog post of its own. Granted, it’s a short one by my standards, but probably pretty average for most bloggers. Here’s what she wrote:

{First of all… I have to agree about your sense of fashion}… Secondly, why aren’t you writing for a living? … Thirdly, you two are the mushiest couple I know! Just because your “I love you’s” translate into “hot vittles” and “midnight potty trips” doesn’t make a difference! Please give The Evil Overlord a knuckle punch for me!

So Heidi, here’s my response for all to read:

Thanks for dropping by and leaving a comment. Now to address these issues one at a time:

First: Yes, it’s good when people know their limitations. As for my fashion sense, I’ve often said, “I wear the pants in the family. It’s just that she tells me which pair to wear.” Sadly, that’s true. I’d rather have my clothes picked and laid out than get that eye roll when I try to dress myself.

Second: I don’t write for a living because I haven’t found anyone stupid enough to pay me for it yet. If you know any mentally unstable editors, please feel free to forward a sample of my work to them. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave out the bit where I called them stupid and mentally unstable.

Third: Yes, the subliminal mush factor is high with The Evil Overlord and I. However, we should probably change the subject. I wouldn’t want her to realize it and be forced to smack me with a shoe to restore the balance.

Lastly: I give The Evil Overlord regular knuckle punches when we play the Slug Bug game. That’s the game where she punches me in the arm as hard as she can when she sees a Volkswagen Beetle before I do. When I see one first, I give her a light arm punch, which in turn, somehow manages to award her another all-out shot to my arm. Why do I go along with these rules? Wait… don’t answer that.

Feel The Love, You Mean Ol’ Hag

The Evil Overlord (my wife and co-driver) and I have been noticing an awful lot of love going around online. Social networks are teeming with couples professing their undying love for each other. They’re usually followed by the obligatory “MUAH,” which Google informs me, is the sound of a kiss. I guess I just don’t make enough kissing noises in my daily life to have recognized that.

To these people, I say good for you. I also say, “get a room.” I do so with a 🙂 Seriously, I’m glad that there’s love in the world. I’m happy that there are people who MUAH at each other, even if it does make me throw up in my mouth a little bit. I do hope it’s genuine though. I truly hope their home lives reflect their real life. I’m sure many do. On the other hand, The Evil Overlord and I know some couples who are miserable in real life, but you’d never know it from their online love-fest.

And then there are those who get offended when I take a verbal jab at The Evil Overlord. It happens all the time on my blog and on Twitter. My mother, whom I know will read this at some point (Hi Mom!) is one of those people. I believe that after our marriage of nearly 17 years, she now understands and accepts the way things are. The part that disturbs most folks, including my mom, is the language we use, or perhaps the language that we don’t use. For one, I don’t tell The Evil Overlord that I love her everyday, or even every week. She returns the favor.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. One thing I truly love about The Evil Overlord is that she can’t stand Oprah. She thinks all this self-love, build up your self-esteem stuff, is highly overrated. Tack on the fact that she thinks flowers and cards are pretty much a waste of money, and you’ve got yourself a keeper. Maybe all this Oprah mojo is fine for those women who have some deep, dark past that has left them with self-esteem issues, but not everyone needs a cheerleader pushing woman-power on them. Fortunately for me, confidence is not a problem The Evil Overlord faces.

Many wives need to hear the words “I love you” numerous times a day. They constantly need their husbands to reassure them that they look good too. The Evil Overlord, on the other hand, doesn’t need or want this. She knows when she looks good and when she doesn’t. Sure, she’ll ask my opinion on an outfit now and then, but she usually ignores me and wears the one she thinks looks better anyway. Good choice, as my sense of fashion is pretty atrocious.

Now for this language stuff. Here’s where we really get to some people. We’ve got A LOT of sarcasm in our relationship. Throw in a few insults and some name-calling and you’ve pretty much got the picture. For example:

• She’ll say something like, “Hey lazy-ass. Why don’t you make yourself useful for a change and fix the shower faucet.” I’ll respond with a loving, “Don’t tell me what to do, woman. Don’t you know your place by now?” She’ll walk away threatening my life as I’m gathering the tools.
• When I’m sitting on my can watching TV, I’ll yell, “Hey wench! Serve me my food.” She’ll holler back telling me where I can put said food. Two minutes later, I’m looking at my old Transformers TV tray with a heaping plate of vittles.
• When I get up in the middle of my sleep to back into a dock or put fuel in the truck, I’ll say, “Good Lord woman, you’re totally worthless.” With a smug look, she replies, “Get out there and do your manly duty and quit your whinin’.”
• When she tells me she wants to buy a MacBook, I tell her that only an idiot would pay that much for a computer. She mumbled something like, “I’ll get it if I want it. That’ll teach you to mess with me.” Instead, she refrains from buying one. When I finally catch the Mac bug, she secretly orders ME a top-the-line MacBook Pro for Christmas. She doesn’t get hers for another year-and-a-half.
• When she asks me to quit playing Guitar Hero: Metallica to drive 15 miles into town to get her “the ones with the wings,” I say, “Man, I really hate your guts.” I hear a mumbled “You love me,” as I’m walking out the door with a grin. “No, I really don’t” is the last thing she hears as the door closes. I know she’s grinning too.

The fact is that we don’t feel the need to say “I love you” all the time. We’ve never had a deep, heart-to-heart, tear-inducing conversation about this, but we both know we’re loved by the actions that the other takes. As the old saying goes, “Actions speak louder than words.” If I felt that I had to hear it every day, I wouldn’t consider myself to be very confident about the fact. Same with her. Granted, our actions don’t always reflect an ooey-gooey feeling of love. We are married after all.

As for the name-calling, well, I call her The Evil Overlord because she can be as mean as a newly-castrated bull when she wakes up. When we’re home and she’s requested that someone wake her up at a certain time, it turns into a session of, “I’m not doing it; you do it.” Luckily, I’m bigger than my nephews. Out on the road, it’s all on me. Although you can sometimes hear me pleading for help on Twitter.

When she calls me a dumb-ass, well, I know that she’s only implying that I can sometimes act like a childish, brainless turd-flinger. Sometimes names are given for a reason, ya know. Seriously though. I’ve never flung even one, single turd in my life. That’s not any thing my youngest nephew can claim.

So why are so many people hung up on the words, “I love you?” Too many times I’ve heard couples exchange “I love you’s” as one of them walks out the door or hangs up the phone. It doesn’t seem to mean that much to either of them. I’m sure you’ve heard it too. Maybe that’s you. Maybe without you realizing it, it’s even become your version of “See you later.” Gee, that means a lot.

One thing is for sure about my relationship with The Evil Overlord. When one of us says the magic words, it means something, and that’s largely because we don’t say it every day. The words tend to show up at the oddest moments too, catching the person completely off guard. This turns out to be an added benefit because, not only have you told them that you love them, but considering the surprising nature of the situation, you have to explain yourself to them. More examples:

• I might hear the words after I crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to walk her into a dark rest area. When I look at her suspiciously, she’ll respond seriously, “Most men wouldn’t do this.” Whether that’s true or not, I don’t really care. It makes me feel good. Oddly enough, I don’t get the same treatment when I wake up and start whining about freezing my butt off on the way into the rest area.
• The Evil Overlord might get surprised with it as we’re gathered around the Playstation 3 with our nephews; all of us screaming trash-talk at the video game. With her hair up in a bun and no make-up on, she laughs and looks at me like I’m crazy. I’ll reminder her that most wives don’t like for their men to play video games and that I’m lucky to have one who actually joins in the fun. I mean, c’mon guys. What better time to tell your wife that you love her than when you’ve just splattered the walls with some demon bosses guts.

Now please don’t get me wrong here. I would never try to tell you how you should interact with your spouse. You do what’s right for you. Just don’t go hatin’ on me and my heartless wench.

*So what do you think about all online lovefests going on? Or tell us all about your warped relationship with your partner. We can do without the graphic details though. 😀 Tell us all about it by leaving a comment. And be sure to pass this post along if you enjoyed it. Thanks.*