Just Say 'No' to Ashley

Yesterday, Jessie felt like eating hot pot for dinner, so we went to a restaurant near downtown. On the way home, it was raining and a bit hard to see out the side windows. I make a right turn and run into a scooter that’s trying to go straight.

Of course, both our reactions are that the driver is hurt bad, so we hurry out to help. The woman seems unscathed. She says that she’s OK and only landed on her bottom. Jessie starts apologizing profusely, insisting that the accident was our fault even though the driver admits that it was also hers to blame. We suggest taking her to the hospital to get checked out, but she declines.

My wife begins to apologize again and offers her phone number to the woman. She doesn’t seem to want it, but Jessie insists on giving it to her in case any problems arise.

She’s breaking the cardinal rule of car accidents: saying that it’s your fault and giving out your phone number when the other person doesn't even ask for it. From the get-go, I wanted to stop my wife, but it would have been a bit awkward to pull her aside for a time-out. All I can do is cringe and watch the whole scene play out.

Once the woman is on her way and we’re back in the car, I ask Jessie if this is her first accident, and she says it is. Awesome! It’s been a while since we’ve shared a “first” together, and I’m glad I was a part of this with her. I suppose it’s not a surprise given that she’s never driven before.

I tell her that the woman is now at home re-thinking things over and has probably come to her senses that she could get some money out of us. Sure enough, as if right on cue, the person calls and says that her bottom is still sore and will probably go to the hospital tomorrow. Sigh.

Jessie says that she just felt really bad for what happened to the woman and didn’t know any better when apologizing and handing out her phone number. Her emotions got in the way.

I go over the rules of how to deal with accidents and tell her that we can’t always be so innocent and believe that everybody is as well-intentioned as us. If the woman’s really hurt, that’s one thing, but if she’s trying to squeeze us for an easy buck, that’s another. We have to look after and protect ourselves first. The world is not a kind place. I remind her that she’s the one that told me this.

In fact, this is the reason I gave Jessie the nickname, Black Heart. Because she usually makes cold, calculated decisions void of emotions. Sometimes I marvel at her ability to do this so easily. I’m the opposite. I’m usually a sucker for a sob story and can’t say ‘no’ if someone asks for help. Where was Black Heart, yesterday?! Really could have used you then.

I tell her that we need to raise our baby to be tough. I don't want them taken advantage of or pushed around. We can give our kid her nickname, Black Heart. It's pretty bad-ass, unless of course our kid turns out to be one of those skinny boy band lookalikes. 

But that won’t happen. Not on my watch. No sir. I plan on raising our kid up on Van Damme, Steven Seagal, and Chuck Norris films that teach you what you really need to survive in the real world – balls the size of grapefruit and a good right hook.

Back home, I do some research for suitable names. I settle for the name ‘Eleloto, which is a combination of two words. ‘Ele means black in Hawaiian and Loto is Pacific Islander for heart. The best part is, both words are unisex, which means it doesn’t matter whether we have a boy or girl. Our name is a win-win situation either way! Now that’s called killing two birds with one stone.

Is there a moral to this drawn-out story? You betcha! Don’t go eat at a restaurant that’s 40 minutes away when a perfectly suitable alternative is less than 5 minutes away, and if you don't know the gender of your unborn baby yet, give it a unisex name. Except for Ashley or Tracy. Sorry, I don't care what the baby name experts say, but those are not guy names. Would we still idolize Chuck if his name was Tracy Norris or Ashley Norris. No, no we wouldn't.