Stop the world, the inevitable has happened. Can I get a witness? I have achieved the unthinkable: I rented a movie the Carpenter actually liked.

That’s right, I said it: the Carpenter liked a film chosen by me, and better yet, he admitted it. Honestly, the shock was so staggering that I went outside to be sure the sun was still shining and zombies weren’t marching through my neighborhood. Surely the world had ended.

Could this be true?  I innocently rented a film that did not make him fall asleep, start a crossword puzzle or leave the house? And get this ladies, Ryan Gosling was in the film (grrrowl).  I tricked my man into thinking the film was for him when secretly, I wanted to Mr. Gosling portray a risqué stunt car driver. (vroom, vroom, wink, wink).

Ironically, it totally backfired and I still came out looking like the best wife ever. It I have now scored a double-whammy on the Richter scale of matrimony. You see, I never got to watch the actual film, so the whole eye-candy viewing of Mr. Gosling didn’t happen for me, because I was stuck upstairs watching a chick-flick with my preteen chicklet. I fell asleep in the mind-numbing slow pace of that film and missed the late night viewing of Drive, the film I’d rented partly for my own selfish reasons.

To be fair, I did the rent the movie for the Carpenter because I knew that it had something to do with cars and gangsters. I have yet to meet a man who doesn’t find these two topics automatically of interest in plot, so it was an obvious choice. Cars lead to car chases and the inevitable smash-up, which leads to at least one explosion and more four-lettered words that than a construction crew on break, so I figured he’d like that. Gangsters, well, it’s a given that there will be several completely unrealistic fight scenes, more expletives between nouns and undoubtedly some gratuitous violence. Naturally, to tie it all together there has to be one seriously sexy woman who is single,  (because all the really smart, attractive women are still single in their thirties, you know) who will play a physically aggressive and sexual demure role (because, again, that’s what we gals do), while the main characters proceed to either woo her or kill her. Either way, her hair and make-up will remain in tact. In other words, I have chosen a great man film.

But just to add to my already awesome standing as the perfect wife, I did one other thing that made the Carpenter the happiest man in Wellington County. Stop blushing; it wasn’t that exciting. It was better. Yes, better. Really. As the ultimate spouse, I left my man alone with his guy film to watch it in silence. I did not insist we make time to be together. I did not sit and ask questions throughout the film. I did not chew my buttered popcorn with my mouth open. I didn’t even go downstairs. I left him alone, in the dark with the flat screen television, uninterrupted. I am that good.

The next day I was surprised to hear the Carpenter relay the gory details of this awesome movie to me. I heard about every explosion, crash, stabbing, blood-splattering fist-fight, with a mafia twist and yes, even the girl character who tied the whole thing together.

And then it happened, the moment I have long waited for: “Yes, I admit it, you picked a good film.”  Cut.