As I was getting ready to go out this afternoon, it occurred to me that M and I argue about only two things: ‘issues’ and ‘dinner’. I recognise, of course, that we’ve been together under two years and that there are plenty of things just round the corner that can cause schisms and upset. But we also haven’t had an easy time of it, with life-threatening illness and bereavement causing stress and pulling us closer together in our first year. The first few months of our relationship reflected pretty well the intense people that we can definitely be. And for the most part we rode those waves and continue to do so, whereas add in a political concept after a night out and we’ll entertain the whole carriage.
Obviously booze plays a part- we both love a drink and we go to a lot of comedy and gigs together so the journey home is like drunken Question Time with only lefties. But to be honest, we can argue about this stuff all day and all night, sober. And so often we barely disagree with each other but we’re both such irritating Guardian readers that we have to debate the details for an entire journey home. I remember the first time: I don’t know where we were coming home from but I know we argued the entire way, and for about an hour and a half when we got in, about whether as a terrorist it was ever justified to use civilians as targets. I dare say we went round and round the same arguments for hours but neither of us could believe what the other was saying. Other recent examples include a row about whether it is ok to give money to a beggar, bearing in mind that it’s more effective to give to charities that support the homeless. And Saturday’s argument was over whether M would characterise himself as a feminist or not. Leftwingproblems.
The other thing we argue about is much trickier to work through because it combines the thing that we’re both pretty good at- communicating honestly with each other- and the thing we’re not- expressing what we want when we know it contradicts what the other wants. We argue, regularly and with tears, about where to eat dinner. In the past. We both play down where we want to go and try to be flexible, and the other doesn’t know we’re doing it and resentment builds. Minor, petty resentment that we find it hard to put into words and then comes spilling out after a bottle and a half of rosé. The anger that we’ve compromised and the other doesn’t appreciate it.
My part in all this is that I cannot state my preference without overwhelming guilt. As I sit here, that sounds bizarre and I can’t explain it, but in the moment it’s the most ridiculous thing- I can’t say “M, I don’t feel like Nando’s”. If it’s something he fancies then I just really want him to have that and I feel uncomfortable arguing for my own preferences. Part of this will be that I come from such a close-knit group of women, who double-check and re-confirm at every step of the decision-making process, that I partly expect someone to argue for my choice even if I’m not. I also have some messy little self-worth issues that play in to it. And what of M? He’s so much happier than me to say what he wants and yet it seems he still doesn’t.
But we’re making progress. It’s finally, after the last argument we had, out in the open and being talked about more fully. I’m not sure why this has taken so long but I guess every relationship is a work in progress. I think we’re both aware that it extends to other things, like our hobbies and the films we want to watch, but we just have to be more frank with each other. It’s the sort of small flaw in a relationship that if we don’t nip in the bud, can extend to how we spend our weekends, holidays, and beyond. Neither of us are passive aggressive in general at all but it’s a symptom of knowing we’re both opinionated people, I think, that finds us trying to rein ourselves in. Thankfully we’ll probably never stop debating the minutiae of lefwing politics- which is fine as that’s what makes us us.
Category: Life