Fighting well

I have a reputation in my family as being contentious. I believe this widely-held opinion is rooted in the fact that I tend to wear my thoughts and feelings on my proverbial sleeve. Hmph.

However, as Chris can tell you, I'm not so contentious, really, as toddler-ish. I'm incredibly loving, thoughtful, articulate and self-sacrificing at times, and then at other times I can be somewhat selfish, thoughtlessly dingy, easily confused and tantrum-y. C'est moi!

Luckily, Chris happens to adore this about me.

Like how I ran back into the house to turn my sweater around the front way today. Or how I told him what a knuckle-biter that scary movie was. Or exclaimed that was the best tree fort I'd ever seen when in fact it was a deer hunting tree stand. And how when we go somewhere together with me driving, I just take random turns here and there regardless of where we are actually going. You know, that kinda stuff.

The good news in all of this, folks, is that we fight really well. Like last night, which happened to be a beautiful, fun, peaceful and relaxing evening up until the point I got jealous because he told his ex-wife on the phone that he wasn't feeling well when she asked how he was doing. Now that's childish.

But maybe not tooooooo childish.

So after getting off the phone he bopped back to our chair in the living room and invited me to snuggle up with him. After snuggling for a few moments, I felt my feelings soothed to a point where I felt the release to tell him that it was an old habit of him to confide things to her, and he needs to just break that habit if he wants me to be happy. Or something of that sort.

Chris stiffened, took off his glasses slowly, and looked intently into my eyes and said, "Where in the hell did that come from?!"

A question we'd all like an answer to, no doubt. Including me.

After petulantly explaining to him that although I'd rather she never come any closer to him than the other side of the highway, I know that it is better for us and better for Brandie if we maintain a good relationship with her, but sometimes my strong aversion to her raises its ugly head and I get that creepy-crawly feeling all over my skin anyway. The fact that she is beautiful, of course, has nothing to do with my feelings whatsoever.

My explanation didn't make him feel any better. In fact, he said, it concerned him greatly. He, of course, was thinking not of his ex, but mine.

After an hour of me pouting and him with his sometimes silence and sometimes quiet, serious talking with significant questions and statements, and sometimes staring stonily at the ceiling or wall, we came to the peaceful conclusion that we both have a little bit of a jealousy issue with exes.

After that, we took a nice respite from staring stonily at the walls to stare lovingly into each other's eyes.

And that, folks, was the contentious toddler girl in a typical "fight" with the man who changed her entire life. And made it good. And love-ly. And fulfilling. And un-lonely.

This fighting well thing has something to be said for it.