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Is it just me (please tell me it's not), or is the amount of pressure you put on yourselves to have a 'romantic' getaway directly proportionate to the amount of bickering you do on said getaway?
It was the question I came away with after a recent weekend spent with my husband (who, at the outset of this story, I should take pains to point out I love very much).
Thanks to an ideological difference in navigation app preference, the getaway was off to a prickly start before we even alighted the vehicle.
Watch the hosts of Mamamia Out Loud on the women 'quiet quitting' their husbands. Post continues below.
As an Apple Maps devotee who prefers to listen to the directions rather than look at the screen, my husband's alliance to Waze (sound off, always) has remained a Montague/Capulet wedge in our relationship since the dawn of the iPhone, or thereabouts.



























