Détente Impossible?
Black, black, black. Bleak, bleak, bleak.
That’s how I’m feeling today. Not only has the working week begun again but I’ve had a row with Mrs. Jimmy Page’s Trousers. We just seemed to get on each other’s neves yesterday and culminated it with a row. Well, I felt that it was a discussion but I’m relatively sure she’d disagree. Now we have to individually decide who’s going to be the grown-up and break the, seemingly interminable, silence first.
I don’t care much for the whole spousal argument thing. It’s partly because the logical, debatey side of me gets frustrated at the fact that these arguments rarely rely on logic or debating ability. It’s mainly, however, because I dislike the pre and post-argument bits. The argument itself is, relatively speaking, ok. It’s no picnic but compared to the bits before and after, it’s easy-peasy. You can just get on with the actual argument but the bits either side really suck. The ’storm-clouds gathering’ build up with sullen silences and terse one-word replies to any questions sucks aplenty but even worse are the post-arguement deep, deep silences. Silence like you can see in one of those wildlife programs about the deepest oceans with weird-looking fish scavenging on whatever dead and decaying matter manages to sink all the way down to their dark domain. Silence like you would have in space, where nobody can hear you scream (unless you’re on a space ship in which case they can). I’m no good with the silence. It eats at me. Gnaws away at me like those fish I mentioned a minute ago. Sort of. Long story short, it’s shit.
Should I apologise and get on with things? While I’m not 100% sure what the argument was actually about, I think that it wasn’t my fault (although, again, I feel my other half will probably disagree). I know, of course, that this ‘fault’ thing isn’t quite so black and white though. Should I be grown up? Ah shite, I hate this. Men aren’t equipped for this sort of cold warfare. We’re no good at it.
Oh dear. Any sort of argument is shit. Strangely, I’m quite argumentative but I hate arguing. The best bit of advice I ever heard was from the priest who married my cousin. Now, I am most unreligious and also not one for authority but I listened to his speech that day and I’ve always remembered his parting advice to them as a newly wed couple - never let the sun go down on an argument. He was and is so right. I’m not married but might as bloody well be (eyes rolling to ceiling in long-suffering despair) but I’ve always heeded that advice - on the whole I have found it works - with the exception of one really appallingally bad time where nothing would have made much better at that point. Hope all is already sorted out - I’m sure it is and take care. Being grown up is such hard work sometimes it really is.
Comment by rockmother — Monday March 26, 2007 @ 23:18
Thanks a lot RM. Appreciate the advice and good wishes. I’m pleased to say that in a remarkable stroke of serendipity, we both decided to be grown-up at the same time. Bizzare, I know, but true.
Glasnost has prevailed, the wall is down but now I have a crowd of East Germans in my kitchen trying to barter chunks of concrete for my 501’s.
Comment by Trousers — Tuesday March 27, 2007 @ 8:07
I find a quick, I’m sorry, normally gets to the bottom of most things. You don’t even have to mean a word of it. Poor old thing, not to worry, the weekend is only 3 days away. Yes I’m that desperate.
Comment by fatmammycat — Tuesday March 27, 2007 @ 19:19
Cheers FMC. Appreciate it. I’m not so good with the ‘I’m sorry’ without meaning it though. Something in me rails against it. I’m quite happy with it when I do feel I’ve been in the wrong (and am ok with admitting when that happens) just not when I feel I’m not wrong. Stubbornness, do you think?
As for counting the days to the weekend, I start on Sunday nights so you shouldn’t feel too bad.
Comment by Trousers — Wednesday March 28, 2007 @ 7:25