The Other Woman

There's another woman in my husband's life.

Her name? I know her only by her initials - GPS.

I suppose the wife is the last to know but I can't help but thinking I should have seen this coming. The way he'd shake his head and roll his eyes whenever I'd get a direction wrong ("Oops, did I say 'Left'?") should have been a clue. I thought he found it sweetly endearing when I suggested we forget pulling out a map and instead, ask a passer-by for directions. Now I'm not so sure. I can't help but ask myself, "How could I have been so blind as to not have noticed the way he admired all of his friend's trophy GPS's?" They seemed like cheap dashboard-candy to me but obviously he saw something more.

And who can blame him really? She's a tall, cool glass of water that one with her sleek, modern styling and impressive talents. Not only does she speak over 20 different languages (she's taught the children how to say, "Turn right" in Mandarin), she comes with a portable base that allows her to be manipulated into countless positions for my husband's viewing comfort. I mean, come on! How can a middle-aged woman compete with that?

When at one time he might have reached for my hand or patted my knee while out on a Sunday drive, now he can't keep his hands off of her. Push this button and ooh, she's recalculating the distance to Home Depot. (Show off!) Push another button and oh my, she's listing all the restaurants in a three-mile radius. (Though I've noticed it's typically McDonald's and Pizza Hut she favours. Trailer-park trash!)

I hate the way she absorbs so much of his attention when we're in the car. We used to enjoy conversation and trade quips, but now he hangs on her every word. If I had known twenty years ago that "Turn right in 200 metres" got his attention more than "Honey, the kids are asleep and I've got ten minutes before the sheets have to be pulled from the dryer", don't you think I would have said it?

I try to turn a blind eye. What choice do I have? Though I have to tell you - she and I had a little run in recently. I let her know what I thought of her in no uncertain terms.

It happened when my car was in for service and I had to take my husbands to run to the grocery store. On the way home, right out of the blue, she spat out her standard line: "Turn right in 200 metres."

Well, if she thought I was going to listen to her, she had another thing coming. I drove right past our house. She was a little put out but quickly recovered. "Recalculating."

Just as I was driving past the neighbour's garage, she tried again. "Turn left."

"Shut up bitch!" I screamed. Things got pretty ugly from there. The details are murky now but they tell me I drove around the neighbourhood for an hour or more before finally running out of gas.

I'm not sure how this sad turn of events will play out but I'll tell you right now, I'm ready to fight back. Maybe get me a little boy-toy of my own.

In fact, I was in Future Shop the other day and happened to notice the sales associate unpacking a new line of GPS systems - Land/Air Resource System, or LARS, for short. Hmm. . . . I like the sound of that. I've always been partial to Scandinavian men.

--Karen Hamilton lives in Toronto, Canada, where she publishes The Best Kept Secret, an e-newsletter and Web site for women over 40. Like the proverbial Seinfeld of the perimenopause set, Karen is fascinated with “the little things” of midlife. You can reach Karen via e-mail at karen@thebestkeptsecret.ca or visit her Web site at www.thebestkeptsecret.ca.