Where's My Remote Control?

The Spouse and I were having a conversation the other day about our transportation issues. The issue is: I don't drive. It may seem odd that a thirty year old woman has not gotten her driver's license, but I will tell you why; I didn't have the opportunity as a teen, I didn't need it as I always had city transit available, after I married $$$ was an issue, and I have a mental block. I'm quite terrified of the idea of driving, cars are big, they go fast and drivers do stupid things that cause accidents. I have nightmares of driving where I can either steer or look out the windshield, but can't do both at the same time. Aside from all that, I do have my learner's permit and I am trying to learn because buses don't come out to the country!

As a feminist, I have ironically put myself into a traditional role pigeonhole. Living out in the country without any transportation is a serious problem. My comings and goings are completely dependent on The Man™. He *controls* when I can leave the house. This can be a very dangerous situation. Now The Spouse just isn't that kind of guy where this is an issue. He is more than happy to take me anywhere I'd like to go. He is concerned about my mental health and the isolation I experience. He is capable of empathy, that one, highly unusual in one of his kind. More often than not, *I* choose to avoid trips to town, for the sake of gas consumption and avoidance of consumerism. So it works out to 2 trips to town a week, and the odd run into the village for things that must be done - groceries, visiting, etc... This is a system that works for everyone involved, I see the outside world as much as I need, essentials are purchased, and the kids see Nana.

The world according to men is a very strange perspective. Imagine my shock to learn that a wife who doesn't drive *CONTROLS* her husband! The meatheads with which The Spouse works have clued him in to the leash around his neck. By forcing my spouse to come home to do a grocery run removes any freedom of movement he, by rights of his testicles, should have. By 'making ' him drop me off at the fabric shop during our usual day in town , I have neutered him. This is not a phenomenon limited to girly activities. In fact, yesterday's trip to the lumberyard, being my idea, is prime example of him being lashed by my genitals. Never mind that the wood was necessary to fix the bed *his* parents were to sleep in during their visit. For the love of peatmoss! According to the meatheads, a Man™, is a completely unfettered creature. He shall not be responsible for any task other than that his Man™ boss gives him. Any and all household activities are the responsibility of a woman, unless the Man™ deems it worthy of his special interest.

I think I like it out here in the country, blissfully unaware of this bullshite.