I’ve been witnessing a series of events bringing into question the assumption many men are not emotionally available. The man I’ve been observing is 70 years old, reinforcing my unscientific theory that men soften with age. He is decades from when his visits to college football games included fistfights. He is a generation away from the F-bomb assault he once dropped on a man who towed his car. He is a different man.
He carefully chose his partner. He enjoys telling his son about her greatest features. He loves talking to her and is patient when she doesn’t understand him. If he wakes up early, he ensures he is by her side. And I often see him with his hands all over her, caressing her, protecting her. He even stayed up until 2am researching how to treat her better.
I won’t name him. But her name is BMW X5. After trying out several others, he finally made it official with BMW X5. I knew this was more than a casual fling when he bought extra mats to protect her floor mats.
The man’s wife woke up early one morning and noticed her husband not in bed. He was in BMW X5. His research on how to properly wax her kept him up into the wee hours of the night. I’m afraid of touching BMW X5. And when I tried talking to her navigational system, she gave me the silent treatment. I’m sure I just wasn’t the right guy. I wasn’t the guy in the driver’s seat.
But I’m happy he is happy. She is big and beautiful and dressed in leather. They will share his family, friends and America’s roads traveling the country together.
When his wife drives BMW X5 alone and returns home, I’m sure he conducts his own 12-point inspection. His wife understands. She laughs about it. Call it ménage à car.