The Luv Doc: Coming Correct
It's a wonder Jesus didn't crucify himself
Dear Luv Doc,
My husband is a good guy who really loves me, but he has one very annoying trait. He corrects everything I say – or at least it feels like he is always correcting everything I say. He contradicts me on some of the most ridiculously minor things. Yesterday I couldn't find my keys and I said, "Where's my keys?" Yes, I know better, but it was in the heat of the moment. He took that opportunity to correct my grammar and said, "You mean 'Where are my keys.'" Just ... why? What use is it for him to say that at that moment? He also always tries to tell me how to do things like tie a knot or what's the best way to get somewhere. It's gotten so I never want to drive anymore. I know part of this is because he is 11 years older than me and has an advanced degree. I am not even saying I am smarter than him, it just annoys me to be corrected all the time. We end up getting into arguments and I end up getting hurt and he gets sulky. What do we do? – Right Sometimes
Nothing is more annoying than someone who is always right – especially when they're always right. Why do you think Jesus got crucified? My guess is when you're really, truly perfect you lose that sense of mystified wonderment. Jesus was probably bored out of his mind. Imagine having the blueprint to the universe and feeling duty-bound to make absolute idiots understand it. It's a wonder Jesus didn't crucify himself. Actually, depending on your theological perspective, he pretty much did, and the thought of that makes him seem so much more human. I feel like the Old Testament God would have smote all the knuckleheads who didn't live up to his standards. That's probably why he begat Jesus. He needed a go-between deity to prove he had lightened up, gone to counseling, and got in touch with his emotions.
What pressure, though! God said, "Hey J-Dawg, here's a New Testament and I need you to get all humanity on board with it or my buddy Lucifer is going to burn them all in hell for all eternity. No presh." And Jesus was probably all, "But Dad! They're all fucking idiots! They're still wiping their asses with sticks and banishing their wives to the desert when they get their periods. Whoopsy! I guess that last one was your idea." And God was all like, "I know the New Testament seems like a lot of pinko, hippie, tree-hugging crap, but if you grow your hair out like Jared Leto and wear sandals and make wine and fish for everybody I'm pretty sure they'll go for it."
You have to give Big G credit, it took him 4.5 billion years – excuse me, 6,000 years – but he finally learned how to delegate and admit he was wrong – fundamental traits of every top-notch executive. I mean, come on, even the Israelites had to think Leviticus was scriptural garbage, but when you have a god-sized ego, it takes a while to admit you were wrong.
So let's just assume that your husband, having shot out of the birth canal blocks with an 11-year head start, has a fairly sizable opinion of his intelligence. Good on him. You probably weren't attracted to men with crushing self-doubt. That means, it might well be unfathomable to him that you don't feel absolutely blessed by his superior intellect – that any protestations on your part are silly and unfounded. Why wouldn't you want to be right all the time like him? Well, remember Jesus?
Let him know each and every time he corrects you that, other than actual life-threatening instances, you prefer not to be corrected – certainly not in the moment – and that your preference to be treated as you would like him to treat you outweighs his psychotic need to always be right.