My husband, who is in his 30s, always told me that his mother threw his father out of the house — on my husband’s 12th birthday, no less — because she found marijuana in his bag. (They agreed to give it up after having kids.) But her current husband, a wonderful man who overshares, told me the breakup was actually due to the first husband’s repeated infidelity. My mother-in-law confirmed this when I asked her. She also said she believes my husband knows. Should I tell him? His father died of cancer several years ago. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but should I, in this case?
ANONYMOUS
“Memories,” as Barbra Streisand sang, may “light the corners” of our minds. What she failed to note, though, is how often that light fails us. We’re nearly always misremembering something and forgetting something else. Who knows what your husband or his mother may have known or said or heard 20 years ago?
Add to this universal condition the fact that your husband was only 12 at the time. The meaning of his parents’ shouting (or hushed voices) may have sailed right over his adolescent head. It seems unlikely that he’s being dishonest with you; it’s easier to imagine him being dishonest with himself. (A marriage ended over the mere possession of pot seems extreme, no?)
Of course, your obligation is to your husband, who deserves gentle truth and support. If you hadn’t verified the story your stepfather-in-law told you, you might have written it off as idle gossip and let it go. But you did verify it. So now you must tell your husband. Withholding this information would put you in weird league with your in-laws. They’ve done nothing wrong, but for you to keep the secret would make you disloyal to your husband.
Say, “Honey, can we talk about your dad?” and take it calmly from there. He may be upset by the news or regard it as the missing piece of a family puzzle. It’s too bad he can’t discuss it with his father. And I get your reluctance to share unsavory stories of the dead. But fortunately, your husband has you to lean on if he needs help.
CreditChristoph Niemann
Guess Who’s Not Coming to Dinner?
We love to make dinner for friends. People say our apartment is minimalist, spacious and nicely lit. But the last three times we invited one couple to dinner, they suggested we come to their place instead. Who does that? Not only were we deprived of the activity we proposed, we’ll be the ones who have to travel to another part of town on a cold night. Would it be O.K. to insist: “No, we’d like to have you over”?
A.O.
Here’s the thing: Some people have trouble accepting hospitality. Others have numerous food allergies. And still others don’t like going out at night. Why not be gracious and let this go? Three invitations later, it doesn’t sound as if this couple is coming to dinner anytime soon.
Speeding Senior
My husband and I live with our young children on a small cul-de-sac. It’s a neighborhood of mostly older people. We’re one of the few young families. Many neighbors drive fast, but one older woman drives at dangerous speeds. She whips around the corner so fast that she startles my toddler! My husband thinks I should talk with her directly. But I would prefer slipping a polite note under her door. Thoughts?
RUTH
Sorry, I don’t follow the connection you’ve made between age and driving speed. Are you suggesting that it’s been a while since the older woman considered the safety of children playing? (She may always have been lead-footed.)
In any event, it’s easier to accommodate a neighbor, smiling at your doorstep with a reasonable request, than to go along with written appeals, slid under the door like (super-polite) complaints. When possible, attach a face to requests for favors. And since it was your husband’s brilliant idea, why not let him cross the street and ask the woman to slow down?
Great View, but the Smell? Oof
I went to the symphony and sat next to a woman wearing perfume. I have asthma, so I was uncomfortable, but I didn’t say anything until intermission. I asked her nicely if she was wearing perfume. When she said she was, I told it her it probably wasn’t a good idea in a crowded concert hall and left it at that. Then I left. What would you have done?
JERI
No offense, but I don’t think your educational campaign accomplished much. You didn’t explain why it’s not a good idea to wear scent in tight spaces. The perfume wearer will be no wiser the next time out.
I might have said, “You may not have considered this, but I have asthma, and your perfume is making me uncomfortable.” Then I would have approached an usher or the box office, explained my predicament, and asked for a less fragrant seat. Why miss the second half?
For help with your awkward situation, send a question to SocialQ@nytimes.com, to Philip Galanes on Facebook or @SocialQPhilip on Twitter.
