I am sure M would love to say that about me. As much as our marriage is one near-perfect heaven, every once in a while, like self-respecting couples often do, we tend to get on each other’s nerves.
Him with his withdrawing into himself and just be and me with my incessant desire to do things, to be – on the roll.
And then, at times like that, we are usually breakfast and dinner for each other and have to politely request for our heads back without sounding too needy.
I am sure Mathew would love to say that about me, then. Because when we disagree, argue or just plain fight I tend to remember the things that hurt me most in the past. To my credit, I don’t exactly bring them up because it’s a rule with me. No ancient wounds to be uncovered and picked at in an argument that we try our best to keep fair and mostly unpainful.
But the problem with remembering the things that hurt in the past is that the memory fries my circuits and then there’s no stopping me. I become a complete expert at taking offence. I am so good at it that even a blink of an eye-lid I can misconstrue as a personal attack. Why, even if M took a breath I’d think he was trying to fill his lungs with enough air so he can bellow at me or talk non-stop and tell me exactly how much I am pissing him off.
It’s fun though, sometimes, because once we’re done biting each other’s heads off, we’re left wondering what it was all about. And then, like all good couples, we promptly dissolve into giggles. Or hugs. Or pillow-throwing. Or just plain ole goofiness.
And that’s what my rat-trap holds most. The giggles, M’s sexy, sexy smile and all the nonsense that we generate to makes life a little less difficult for everyone around 🙂
(Title from a line in Margaret Atwood’s ‘UglyPuss’, which features in ‘Bluebeard’s Egg and Other Stories’. That, incidently, is a must read by all standards.)