The Highway to Unhappiness

During our 4-hour trip to the Jersey Shore Saturday morning, we encountered a series of jerk drivers. You know the type: They exist solely to weave in and out of tight spaces and scare the pants off everybody else on the parkway.

I briefly--very briefly--dated such an individual in college. He liked to call himself "an offensive driver." His sister called him "Asshole."

Which is, of course, what he turned out to be.

When you're dating a guy, watch the way he drives. Decent men (those of the 'treat others as you would have them treat you' variety) don't need to prove they own the road. They don't cut people off. They resist urges to speed around blind curves. They don't zip through residential neighborhoods.

Case in point: My cousin's boyfriend drives a new Jaguar, but he's not an idiot about it. He drives it like a man, not like a 7-year-old. He lets the car speak for itself.

While this man can afford his car, a lot of people driving luxury vehicles can't. They're living on credit. Don't be impressed by cars. Actions speak much louder than possessions.

The last thing you ever want to do is end up with a guy in serious debt. A man in debt is a miserable man. He'll make you miserable, too.