Sunday night I had R drop me off and then pick me up following my SUNDAY NIGHT SEX TALKS show (he can’t attend because he is a boy), and it threw my entire sense of independence for a loop.
And you thought you had problems.
When I was single, I used to make lots of grandiose statements about the things I would never do if/when I got into a relationship. I’ll never be one of those PDA-couples. I’ll never share a Google calendar of our collective plans. I’ll never “we” every single thing the two of us do.
Primary among my “nevers” was an entire list of no-no’s involving cars. I cannot explain the origin of this issue, but I have a whole string of preconceived feelings about female independence and cars. I don’t like it when the guy always drives. I don’t like it when the girl expects him to drive. And I really don’t like it when a girl lets her boyfriend drive her car while she “passenges.” I had a friend in college who relinquished all driving duties the minute she got into a serious relationship. It was car her and yet he assumed full control. This annoyed me endlessly.
It’s worth noting that I spent 100% of my previous dating life without a car of my own. I dated my high school boyfriend from 16-17 (pre-license years in New Jersey) and the rest of my relationships were conducted in either Boston or New York. So these “issues” of mine were never tested. I never had a car for a guy to never drive.
And then by some bizarre twist of inconvenient fate, I got both my first car and my first meaningful adult relationship at the exact same time.
I was determined to follow my pre-planned plan. I would drive 50% of the time. I would never make him drop me off places because I didn’t feel like parking. And my car would by mine to pilot. I wouldn’t be some helpless housewife relinquishing my independence one car ride at a time. I am 28! It is 2011! I drive a Salsa Red Jetta! Hear my engine roar! (had to, sorry)
Here is what I have learned about myself, R, cars, and the nature of female independence in the 12 + month since I’ve had both a boyfriend and a car:
- I’m not a very good driver. This is not to say that I get into accidents or breaks laws, I just fluctuate between intense road rage when I know where I’m going and intense anxiety when I don’t. I’m getting better with each 45 minute commute, but my magical, romance with a sporty ride and the open road is not in the near future, if it exists at all.
- I don’t particularly like driving. Even when I’m having a great driving day, I don’t enjoy it. Plus it’s shockingly void of the intense feeling of satisfaction and female empowerment I’ve been envisioning all these years. Real puzzler.
- R is a really good driver. He has six years of practice on me and does not fluster under extreme traffic or complete loss of direction. He does make this very obvious face when he’s pretending to know where he’s going but has absolutely not idea, but it’s a silent face, so it’s fine.
- R really likes to drive. I haven’t asked him if he experiences an intense surge of satisfaction and male empowerment, but I’m trying to tone done the gender studies so our relationship feels less like getting a minor in women’s lib.
- It’s often very nice to be driven, even if it is in your own car. I don’t think I’m turning back the feminist clock when I say that if feels like to have someone in control of getting you from point A to point B. You may feel safe. You may feel secure. You may feel a little romantic if/when that person opens the door. It’s not necessary, but it’s not negative.
I asked R to drive me to my show on Sunday night because I didn’t want to worry about parking on Santa Monica Boulevard and lugging all my stuff into the bar. Also, I have to go into the back door, which is through a dark alley that can feature some unsavory characters. These are all the reasons I started to explain this to him over our pre-show sushi dinner. Then I cut the female empowerment crap and told him the truth: I’d like you to drop me off because I get a little nervous before my show, and it would be nice to have you there to send me off. I’d also like you to drop me off so you can pick me up when the show is over and stop in for a drink to meet some of the ladies. And finally, it will be nice to ride home together so I can tell you about every detail of the show on our drive home!
“Wow. That was big,” he said.
But it wasn’t really. They’re just cars, and it’s just driving…unless you choose to make them the cornerstones of your own feminist agenda, in which case, e-mail me, and we’ll have a chat.
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Another side of this: my mom’s mother never drove outside her town and in later years, never drove outside a little slice of her town. My mom hated that and wanted to be sure she drove herself everywhere possible. Not a bad goal, however, my mom is a nervous driver and needs complete silence in the car whenever she is lost/unsure of where to park/at a tricky intersection. Thankfully when she goes in to the city (which she rarely does, even though I live there), my dad drives, but when they go anywhere else, she must drive, even if she’s tired, etc. I don’t know if it’s a feminist thing or just not wanting to turn into her mother.
I think I’m like you – not particularly in to driving, but will do it when I need to. However, my partner does not drive. Ever. So there’s that.
I’m from Los Angeles and my bf is from, CT, so I do enough female empowerment driving for the both of us. ;-p
(Same story as yours, just reversed– AND we met in Boston!)
Letting him drive just isn’t worth the aggravation.
Driving less than 50% of the time I would feel uncomfortable about but put up with. But I would never, never have my boyfriend drive my car with me in it, short of an interminable road trip where periodic switching was necessary. (And I do actually have the personal experience of being both a girlfriend and the owner of a car simultaneously to back this up.) Of course, these days I’m carless in Boston, and the bf does have a car, so I’m being tested a bit. I do still feel really uncomfortable when he gives me rides home when there’s a perfectly good bus, and I try to be careful not to do the “But why don’t you come here instead, because you can *drive*?” thing. It’s OK every now and then, but I really don’t want to get to a place where that’s the natural order of things or, God forbid, I expect it.