Daiva Markelis demonstrates why a little arguing can be good for a couple in the long run.
I don’t trust couples who never argue, who always smile and nod and look very interested in what the other is saying. These couples are doomed. They will smile and nod and look very interested and then one morning one spouse will get up and go to the store for milk and never return.
My husband and I argue all the time. Big disagreements occur when he allots twenty minutes for a fifty-mile car trip, as if we’re traveling by Japanese Bullet Train. Marty is an optimist. Traffic lights will remain perpetually green, the sun will shine brightly though the forecast calls for rain, caring drivers will pull to the side, sensing that the royal couple in the black RAV needs to step it up to get to Buckingham Palace.
Marty once accused me of cheating at Scrabble. This caused a huge fight. In revenge, I hid his small but valuable collection of 1960’s troll dolls
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At some point during the ride Marty will realize the extent of his misjudgment and speed up considerably. This will cause another quarrel.
The irony is that Marty once taught driver’s education. The philosophy he conveyed to his high school students was pedagogically questionable: “You can get away with anything if there are no cops present and you don’t hurt anybody.”
“So, basically, you told them it’s okay to break the law,” I said.
“Only if they were sure there were no policemen near by.”
♦◊♦
Sometimes we argue about the space-time continuum. This comes up most often in the context of watching baseball. I prefer live games — either at the ballpark or at home on our sixty-inch television. Marty likes to record games so that he can zip through commercials and, more importantly, watch certain exciting or controversial plays over and over and over again. Thus, what we see has already occurred. This doesn’t prevent my husband from cheering wildly, booing loudly, or sending good vibes via brainwaves whenever a White Sox player is up at bat.
“How can the brainwaves work if the event has already happened?” I ask.
“Anything is possible in the space-time continuum,” says my husband.
Marty also believes there are individuals who are “designated watchers” in baseball. The designated watchers might not even be aware of their status as designated watchers. Nevertheless, it is their psychic energy that can cause batters to hit homers, pitchers to strike out the side, and teams to win close games.
“Who designates the designated watchers?” I ask.
“It’s a mystery,” replies Marty the Agnostic.
◊♦◊
Sometimes the arguments have to do with unmet desires. I want a dog; Marty doesn’t.
He can’t get past the fact that dogs sometimes eat their shit. In his mind, all dogs are always eating their own (or another dog’s) shit. They eat and then they shit and then they eat their shit. They might play catch for a while or snuggle up to you by the fireplace, but soon they are back to eating their shit.
“A dog can protect our house from intruders,” I argued once.
Marty went out and bought me a stuffed animal—a large life-like Rottweiler he promptly named RoboDog.
“We can perch RoboDog here on top of the couch looking out the front window. When would-be burglars walk down the street they’ll see its face and make a mental note not to rob our house.”
“They won’t be suspicious that it never barks?” I asked.
“It can be one of those non-barking Rottweilers.”
“And the fact that RoboDog never moves its head or changes facial expression—won’t that be suspect?”
“Hmm. I didn’t think about that. You might have to move him around a little every other day.”
♦◊♦
We don’t fight about money.
We have enough money, in part because we don’t have children.
We don’t argue about children.
We argue about dreams. Marty rarely dreams. I dream all the time. I sometimes dream that my husband is with another woman, someone younger and thinner and more docile and respectful. I wake up angry and worried. I nudge my husband from his peaceful sleep.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I dreamt you were cheating on me,” I say.
“I can’t help what you dream,” he says, annoyed.
I tell him my theory: one person’s state of mind while sleeping—his thoughts and desires—can permeate another’s dreams.
“You’re crazy,” he says. But he always adds “I love you,” which makes forgiving him for my dream very easy.
We used to argue a lot more, about commitment, acceptable levels of household cleanliness, and Scrabble. Marty once accused me of cheating at Scrabble. This caused a huge fight. In revenge, I hid his small but valuable collection of 1960’s troll dolls.
We’ve gotten better over the years. We’ve learned not to bring up hot-button issues when one of us is tired, sick, or stressed. We give each other a lot of space.
We’ve been married for almost ten years, though we’ve been a couple for much longer.
“Twenty years this August,” I tell my husband.
“Eighteen,” he answers.
“No, I think it’s twenty.”
“Eighteen. Definitely eighteen.”
Image Credit: Yasin Hassan – ياسين حسن/Flickr
Here’s an argument: https://goodmenproject.com/marriage-2/dragging-a-drunk-husband-home/
“Big disagreements occur when he allots 20 minutes for a 50 mile car trip….” Hee hee! I find myself digging my nails into my thighs to keep from piping up when my husband drives….(“Don’t be a back seat driver…don’t be a back seat driver….!”)….but he will listen faithfully to the GPS lady (even when she is outright wrong….on several occasions! “Take the Holland Tunnel” = so WRONG on so many levels!!)… Last big trip we took, we went in separate cars….I drove the family and he drove in from work…and we had a great time! In a marriage, both parties… Read more »
I appreciate articles like this because my husband and I get into arguments about stupid stuff. Sometimes it freaks me out, but then I remember articles like these and know that if we sometimes *didn’t* argue about stupid stuff (or major stuff) then we’d really be in trouble.
Very funny, but very true. Arguments like this make you stronger.
Fun read! Thanks.
I’m hope you get that dog. Life is too short not to have a dog. I hope Marty takes you to pick it up. If you want a dog that bad, the dog deserves you too. Marty should understand that and want it for you.
And I hope that quirky guy gets a “titch” more respect and a little less judgment before that young, skinny thing starts looking better. We optimists just can’t help ourselves and need understanding too. ;^)
Steve,
You are a wise observer of human nature, and perhaps a marriage counselor? Yes, I should get a dog. And, yes, I will treat my wonderful husband with a “titch” more respect.