The Commuter Couple

The definition of a happy, healthy relationship is different for every couple.  No two relationships look the same; therefore, judging someone else's relationship based on your definition of happiness is not advised.  However, there are some universal warning signs that any one of us who has ever had a real relationship can spot a mile away.

Yesterday on my commute home I landed in the coveted back seat of a car that came equipped with the common DC species known as the "commuter couple" (hereafter CC).  Many two-income DMV families commute to roughly the same area together every day, giving them a few extra hours of togetherness that the rest of the geographically dispersed couples don't get.  Some CCs use this time to discuss family business like what the kids have scheduled, what's for dinner, where they are going on vacation, what charges their oldest son got slapped with and how they are not bailing him out this time (yes, that happened), or how obnoxious their cousin Bobby was at the last family gathering.  As a captive observer of the CC, you become privy to an intimate, inside view of their happy little home life whether  you want to or not.  Some CCs appear to be perfectly normal suburbanites who seem to at least like each other, if not, dare I say, love each other.  Some appear to be somewhat apathetic to each other, just going through the predictable motions of their daily grind, secretly longing for something more exciting.  Then there's that special kind of asshole CC.  My particular CC yesterday was the true gem of the CC species.  Unknowingly, I crawled into the backseat of a Toyota, which turned into a front-row seat to a CC smack down.

It was as if the click of my seatbelt was the bell for Round 1.  Admittedly, the smog-like tension filling the tiny compartment we 3 were sharing was a pretty strong indication that this particular fight was a continuation, or perhaps a rematch.  As the Husband Driver (CC-H) pulled through the slug lane and began to creep out to merge into traffic, the Wife (CC-W) lit his ass up.  She was cussing at him for not pulling out faster and having to wait a few extra seconds for a break in traffic.  CC-H snapped back at her for having her "big head" block his view.  That REALLY set her off, and she began giving him examples of how his big head got in the way of her happiness, outlining all the ways having him in her life over the last 15 years has prevented her from ever being happy.

Well, that escalated quickly.

I heard a litany of her grievances over the years.  I listened carefully to her very convincing side.  He sounded like a real douche of a husband.  Like that time he left her alone with their kids when she had the flu so he could go out with the boys, and he came home smelling like booze and pussy (her words).  But CC-H was not going to stand by and let her make  all the accusations.  He launched quite an impressive retort.  He outlined all the times that she's ignored the kids so she can stuff her "fat face" while she sexts random guys pictures of her "sagging boobs."

Clearly there's a lot of love and a deep trust between these two.

It was difficult to choose who I thought was the "bad guy" in this relationship.  I tried to imagine myself as their therapist and searched for a way to help them solve what appears to be some deep-rooted resentment on both sides.  Then it hit me.  As I continued to listen, I frantically searched through my phone contacts, dug out a piece of paper and pen, and scribbled a number.

When we arrived at the lot, I unlocked my seatbelt, opened the door, and dropped the paper between the two of them on the front console as I said "here's the number to my divorce lawyer.  He's really cutthroat."  And off I went.

I didn't look back to see which one grabbed the paper.

You're welcome CC from hell.  I wish you both well.  Poor kids......