• Relationships

The Matrimommy: Remote Control Rumble

I never dreamed that I’d find a guy who would want to join me for weekly manicures and pedicures; that was a chick ritual best kept for me and my friend Michelle. No husbands allowed – or desired, for that matter. I always assumed, however, that the man I’d choose to spend the rest of my life with would be interested in spending cozy weeknights curled up with me on the sofa. We’d fire up the Tivo, going rock-paper-scissors over which program we’d watch first: How I Met Your Mother or Project Runway. At a certain point, I realize that I should let go of the hope that his interest in American Idol – or any of my other television favorites – will change and instead, appreciate that which we do have in common.I’ve recently resigned myself to the fact that with me and R., this is never going to happen. The truth is, we have completely different taste in television, and I’m not gonna lie – it totally pisses me off. I like reality shows and sitcoms where twentysomething women wear outfits whose price tags exceed the amount of our mortgage. He favors Denver Nuggets games and heavy HBO dramas. Ok, ok, so his not wanting to watch The Bachelor or The Hills – I’ll let that slide. But American Idol? Nearly all of America is into that show, but he won’t even give it a chance.

“Dude, why would I want to devote multiple hours a week watching talentless pop star wannabes perform?” he asked, as I pleaded with him to join me in watching the 10 remaining female finalists warble their way through 70s songs. He shook his head and gave me a hug. “I’ll be in the office doing some work,” he said, leaving me alone with Paula, Randy and Simon.

After nearly 7 years of marriage to R., you’d think I’d be accustomed to the differences in our television watching preferences. Well, I’m not. Why, I wonder, won’t he come around on liking some of these shows – much in the way he did on sushi, cuisine he detested when we first got married yet presently craves often? Is it possible that after one episode of Idol, he’ll discover a fondness for it, much as he did for spicy tuna rolls years ago? Might there be a day when he says, “Chelsea, grab that Ben & Jerry’s and let’s see who got the boot this week – my cash is on Danny Rodriguez!” Sadly, I think the answer is no.

At a certain point, I realize that I should let go of the hope that his interest in American Idol – or any of my other television favorites – will change and instead, appreciate that which we do have in common: a love for old-school rap and hip hop, taking our kid to the Air and Space museum, the relentless search for the perfect eggs benedict, and playing craps in Vegas. As much as I wish R. wanted to do everything I did, if he truly was a carbon copy of me, being married to him would, admittedly, be rather boring.

That said, tonight, I have decided that I am going to break free of my television comfort zone and watch the Nuggets game with him, and I’m not going to wince or threaten to leave the room each time he screams expletives at Carmello Anthony for not playing defense. Who knows? Maybe my extension of the remote control-meets olive branch will inspire him to want to join me for the Idol results show…I can keep hoping, can’t I?

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