She is 31 but acts 26.
She is nice-ish for a few minutes, but beomes hostile. Maybe it's when I say I'm captivated by her friend. Maybe it's when I call him the wrong name. Maybe it's when I ask, "How do you wind up the wood wall sculpture?" She turns sharply and winds the spring tight as a drum, turn after turn. I say to myself quietly, "eep, eep, that's enough!" She stalks from the room; the pace and sound of the wood sculpture become, over time, mildly frenetic. Hmm. Has the annoying output made her annoyed at my question?
He and I discuss cars, and decide to carpool in my Hybrid. He has driven Hybrids, and says lower gas mileage is a plus. I say her Accord will be more comfortable, but he really wants to save gas. He thinks my car sounds best, and that's fine with me.
Later, she and I talk of cars. I say, "He and I thought we should take my Prius, because of the gas mileage." She somehow bristles and I guess she wants to drive. "But we can use your car, that would be fine, too," I say quickly. I wait, but she doesn't agree. Instead, she stomps around the apartment, speaking only to him, and fussing with her iPod. She ceases communcating with me except in the most brief and sharp words.
Eventually she snaps, "I want to try out all these gizmos I bought," waving the iPod, "so I want to take my car."
"Cool," I say. And she is happy. "I'll point to my car, on our way out, just to make sure it's OK parked where it is."
"Where is it parked?"
"Two, three short blocks away."
"Oh. You'll get a ticket," she snaps, "we'll have to take your car."
"Well... I could swap spots with you, and we could still drive your car."
"No, we'll just take your car."
"Oh well... take the iPod to play with, I have a plug for it in the car."
"No." She snaps off the computer with force, and disconnects the iPod.
"Oh, do! It would be nice to listen to your music."
"No! It wasn't done updating anyway."
Grrr is in the air.
- - -
HIghway vs. Freeway
At some point, she claims a freeway is named so, because it was intended never to be used as a toll road. I think about it. No, I don't think so. "But almost no highways are toll roads," I protest. "There are lots of toll roads back East," he puts in. She is firm. But it still seems wrong. "Where did you hear that?" "A friend told me." "Je accuse!" (per The Whitehouse.) I question the source of that definition!"
This has put my foot in my mouth. She is upset. I forget to shut up. I mention rules like a straight segment every so many miles, for aircraft in emergencies. I mention a limited number of curves, and on-ramps no more frequently than such and so. But I am met with a quiet feeling of wrongness.
I'm a wordsmith, for chrissakes! You know, intellectual curiosity?
Later I look up the terms. The definition has to do with 100% controlled access, so cars have a free passage. Anyway, it is unaccountably tense in the car, and that is another example of a 26-year-old.
They get mad a lot.
- - -
Later I understand better. The clock is a nuisance when wound, she wants to drive her new car, perhaps she has the hots for him and wants privacy, and so forth. My sweetie says he'll never date a 26-year-old again. I can see why. Even when they're 31.