I guess you could say I’m extraordinarily lucky. After all, my partner and I don’t argue like some people we know. We have either plenty or none of the usual suspects:
Money, kids, and sex
I’ll let you decide which is which in the none vs. plenty categories.
When there is disagreement, it takes a completely and annoyingly frivolous form – food. Tempers genuinely flare over the, “What’s for dinner?” and staying in as opposed to eating out quandary. The first query sounding innocent enough, my hackles now rise to be asked what I'm hungry for. Our initial problem lies in the fact that I often don’t care one iota what I eat. I’ve been known to say I wish my nutrition could be administered through an IV so that I didn’t have to stop writing.
Unfortunately, “I don’t care” isn’t an adequate answer no matter how many times it’s repeated as I’m forced to play “twenty questions”. Asking for a direct opinion in response earns me a quibbling, “It’s up to you.”
One evening, I replied to that by heating a package of frozen vegetables, the closest my interest comes to cooking these days. Instantly harangued and ultimately guilted into dining out, I did not much enjoy my meal or the company that night.
More recently, I received curt but ambiguous answer to my genuine desire for Thai cuisine. “I’m working.”
Perplexed, I said, “I don’t mean to be a pest and I’ll leave you alone to work, but what exactly does that mean?”
The reply was snapped readily over a slumped shoulder. Angrily slit eyes made me take a step back, mentally if not physically. “It means I’m working!”
“So, does that mean we’re staying in tonight?”
“Yes!”
On the way to the kitchen in order to stuff my face with the handiest leftovers, I grumbled, “Was that so fucking hard?”
For good measure, I shut my partner’s office door and cranked up some heavy Japanese rock.
Now I ask you, what trips your argument trigger? Inquiring minds want to know.
Oh, we have triggers in our house. But, I suppose that we are unusual in that we rarely fight about money or kidlet or sex. Usually it's chores and expectations. And habits.
ReplyDeleteWe have a lidded trash can (we have cats, so this is a necessity). DH routinely just piles trash on top of the trash can instead of opening the thing and putting the trash in. This results in my putting it in and telling him YET AGAIN how irritating and unsanitary that is. To which he replies something along the lines of "it's not a big deal" - and....well, you can imagine how that goes.
On my end, I drink lots of ice water. My ice water cups migrate to my desk and stay there. I go downstairs for dinner, or to get the kidlet from the bus stop or whatever, and come upstairs with a new cup of water. With the old one still upstairs. I think my record is an accumulated 11 cups. This makes DH crazy.
We rarely have big arguments, and when we do, its usually over some issue that comes up rather than ongoing issues.
The garbage thing would drive me bonkers! Thank you for sharing! The little things can be a real drag. Can't they?
ReplyDeleteElise! Those cups would drive me crazy too. Hubby does that. The garbage is an issue here as well. I asked my hubby to help me take it out, but I got busy getting our kids ready for school and he ended up taking it out alone, to which he remarked, "I thought you wanted me to help you, not do it by myself."
ReplyDeletepfft. grow up.
(him, not y'all)
Interestingly, we never argue about his (or my) annoying habits, and there are plenty of them. We also don't argue about the important things, like money. Most of the time, he takes offense at my, as he hears it, critical tone and I don't even know we're having a fight until about 10 minutes into it. It's like being dropped into the middle of someone else's argument. The subject matter varies and I can't think of an example. I must be repressing the memories.
ReplyDeleteLeigh, his grumbling sounds like me. :) Dilo, I feel for you. My partner never seems to take rightful offense at my tone. Instead, my talk is inevitably interrupted on a regular basis. I get to the point where it's easier not to converse. Sigh...
ReplyDelete