moon. At dinner one night, he told my husband how much
he was in love.
"It's like nothing I've ever felt before!" he said so sweetly
that it was easy to forgive him the cliche.
"I know," my husband said smiling at me. "It's great being
in love."
"No," our friend said shaking his head. "This is different
than what you have. We never fight, ever."
I winced, but my husband maintained his gracious smile.
"That's great! We can't wait to be at that wedding."
Six months after their wedding, I got a call from our
friend. I could tell something was bothering him. "Are you
alright?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "It's just that we fought and it was really
bad."
After talking with him some more, I learned that a "really
bad" fight meant that she walked out of the room on him
only to return a half-hour later to apologize.
I told him about our fights. I told him how we had both
slammed doors, said really horrible things, stomped, and
not only left the room but left the house for hours on end,
returning to fight again instead of make up. I told him how
I, in a fit of anger, had thrown away an entirely good batch
of cookies just so my husband couldn't eat them. I had
also hidden cookies, turned up the thermostat and left
every single light on in the house (including flashlights and
closet lights), just to irk my husband. Also, once, I air-
conditioned the outside. I still haven't apologized for that.
When I finished, we were both laughing and my friend was
breathing easier.
When love is newly minted, it's easy to be insular and
believe that you and your partner have everything figured
out, that nothing can ever shake you, you will never fight,
and nothing so stupid as socks on the floor could ever
make you raise your voice at that adorable face. I don't
mean to be condescending. It's a great time. Every couple
has it and it is my sincere wish that it lasts as long as
possible.
But it doesn't.
At some point in every marriage, you will find yourself
sobbing into your pillow over toothpaste caps and if you
don't, you're a Stepford Wife.
When Dave and I got married, no one told us about these
ugly moments -- when something as simple as sweeping
the floor can cause you to question whether you've
committed to the right "forever after." A friend once told
me that she felt horrible for questioning her choice of
spouse until she told her mom, who has been married for
50 years. "Oh honey," her mom said, "I ask that question
at least once a week."
In the early days of our marriage, I felt ashamed about
coming clean about our arguments. Wasn't I being
disloyal? Wouldn't people think horrible things about us?
But the truth is, the more I talked to married couples, the
more I realized how normal it is to occasionally slam a
door, or hide a cookie, or lay in bed and wonder if you just
committed to the same old remote control fight for as
long as you both shall live.
I am forever indebted to a couple who told my husband
and me a story about their epic battle over putting
together a bookshelf. During the heat of the fight, the
husband walked out of their apartment. The wife then
decided the best way to make him sorry was to eat an
entire pie his mother had made for him. When he came
back, he found his wife, in the middle of the kitchen floor,
her face covered in blueberry pie, crying. He grabbed a
fork and joined her. They've been married for 20 years.
At the time, I remember feeling shocked. How could they
say they had a good marriage when they were both that
ridiculous?
That, of course, was before I stooped low and hid the
cookies. Now, I cling to that blueberry pie story like a
talisman. On my worst days, it reminds me, we can be
both dumb and happily married. I'm not condoning acts
of childishness or silly fights. It's good to always keep
perspective, but the truth is you can't always keep
perspective. In those moments, when you've lost all
dignity and you are covered in blueberry pie and crying on
the floor, just know, it's OK. We've all been there, whether
we admit it or not.
Recently, during a fight, I told my husband, "You know
what? I'm OK with this fight. I know I have the rest of my
life to spend making you learn how to do the laundry."
"That's right," he said, "and I have the rest of my life to
train you to turn the lights out in the house." Then, we
went to bed, still a little angry, but very much committed
to figuring it out as long as we both shall live.
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