“Guys are super simple. They usually have these 3 basic needs to be happy: Money, women and cars or PCs,” Monkey explained to me while we were having breakfast earlier today before I headed for work. “A good woman that they can go home to, enough money to support their cars/gaming habits & their relationship, and their drug. It’s usually either gaming things or automotives.”

My man never strays far from his drug.

Like a lot of guys, he has this fierce passion for his car, a sedan Honda Civic EF with Japanese half-cut at the front. While we do eat outside a lot at the beginning of the relationship, fancy sushi places and nice café spots, expensive shopping malls window-shopping sessions and all the more, his income is now mostly channeled towards his other wife. Yes, that car.

He loves it so much that he couldn’t really bear having it out of his sight when we eat at food courts. “I feel more secure when I can see my car,” he would explain to me. Well, to each their own poison.

Now you might be wondering why I said he has a fierce passion for this Honda Civic. Actually, I might add that ‘fierce passion’ is an understatement, because in his own words this morning he had told me, “I’m sorry to say this but if my car turns into a human I would definitely fuck her,”

Now, there’s a few questions in my mind:

I put those girl feely-feely things aside and asked, “Well, okay. This is definitely going in my blog. But first, tell me more about just how much you love that car.”

He then told me about how he once had a candlelit dinner-like thing with his car. “That was before I met you,” he seemed to feel compelled to add. Just him, and the car with its hood open.

I have definitely just lost to a car. There has never been a candlelit dinner at any point of our relationship. I suppose that might have been for the best though. I could have burnt the whole room down if I was any more careless.

And then there was this other time when his group of friends and him were saying things like, “Damn, look at that sexy piece of ass right over there,”, “She’s the sexiest, hottest thing, ever. No arguments. Just look at her,” or even “I’m not gonna lie, I would fuck her if I could,” and some girls nearby overheard them and felt displeased, having presumed that the group of boys were talking about girls as if they are objects.

“Please, woman. We are talking about our cars right now,” he explained, and showed his phone screen, scrolling past photo after photo of cars in their gallery.

Seriously, guys. Is this normal? I mean, I love books and clothes and whatnot, but you won’t hear me saying that I would love to fuck the human apparition of those items.

But all these funny details aside, I do very clearly know that he loves that car a great deal. When we had problems in our relationship, one of his ways of releasing his pent-up stress and emotions is to drive.

Just driving up and down the mountain roads, revving hard, taking corners like a madman and going way past the practical speed limits of the curvy, elevated roads. In a narrative manner of speaking, I might say that he was expressing his emotions without saying a single word – instead, opting to show his displeasure through the engine’s revving. Roaring. Screaming.

“She comforts me and lets me know that it’s okay to push her further; She hasn’t reached her limits yet, so I should keep driving, go faster, keep pushing her to further lengths until I feel better. She would convince me that things would all be alright again, and it’s okay to let it all out. She’s there for me.” I remember him telling me once.

Sure, at the beginning I worried a great deal about this method of stress relief, but by now I myself have grown to like the thrill of fast, skilled driving. That aside, his love for his car isn’t harming anyone, and I am still claiming the throne as his Queen no. 1, so if he wants to love it that hard, by all means go ahead my man. I love you and I support you.

P/S: If by some weird black magic ways your car does turn into a human and you decide to fuck her, I’m not sure if I really want to know.