The Dumbest of All Fights
I’ve been thinking lately how we can look at someone’s relationship and see what they, or we, want us to see.
Perfection.
Gloss.
Of course, we all logically know that no relationship is perfect and I certainly know that my relationship isn’t perfect. I feel that, often, we share the really hard times and the really wonderful times but we don’t share the really ridiculous times. Or, at least, I don’t.
For whatever reason, I’ve been reflecting on what I consider to be the dumbest of all fights that I had with the Husband. We were spending the night with B. in Darling Harbour before B. and I were leaving to go on a cruise.
That day we were exploring Darling Harbour. B. had wanted to do paddle boats on the harbour so we did paddle boats on the harbour. The entire day I was picking at Husband because I was anxious about leaving on a holiday without him. Anxious about being on a boat alone with our child when I get sea sick on the Manly Ferry. Anxious because I hate crowds. Anxious because I get claustrophobic and I hate being stuck in one place for prolonged periods of time.
When I’m anxious and I’m leaving my Husband I take my fears out on him. It is not healthy. I’m working on it. I know who I am. I have issues. So, here we were, B. completely oblivious in the middle of the paddle boat controlling the brakes, chattering away between two squabbling parents. The Husband was anxious on the water and hadn’t told anyone. I was anxious about the idea of being on the water tomorrow and hadn’t told anyone. We were well and truly functional.
Still, despite that, B. and I had a ball on the paddle boats. For 30 minutes we paddled around the harbour and tried to go around the barriers we were told we weren’t allowed to go around and laughed about getting chased by water police in a paddle boat. When we disembarked the boat my Husband’s back was drenched in sweat and I pointed it out as any “good” wife would. He snapped back “well, you’re sweaty too” and I refused to accept that I was sweaty even though my dress was definitely stuck to my back and my boobs and under my arms.
Back and forth we went.
How dare you call me sweaty!
Well you called me sweaty!
But you are sweaty. My dress doesn’t even have sweat stains on it.
Yes it does. There and there.
Well your shirt has sweat stains there, there, there AND there. So there! You are so sweatier than me.
How about we’re both sweaty?
No. You’re sweatier!
And then we went to Betty’s Burgers and B. frolicked in the water at the park and I marvelled at my delicious burger and Husband didn’t want to eat because when he gets upset he doesn’t like to eat (weirdo) and then I got mad at him for not wanting to eat.
I think, finally, I admitted I was stressed about leaving and then, again, I revealed that, yes, I had been sweaty too.
You know what? I think we should all share more about the stupid fights we have that we take so seriously and that wound us as they’re happening and then months and years later you look back and think… how did someone not drown me in the harbour?