We fought like dogs most nights. The long, complicated arguments with insults slung back and forth like a political mudfest. And that wasn't the worst of it.
We deserved it.
I've come to the conclusion--now that time is on my side and glacial ice ages of water have flowed under the bridge--that most arguments between couples are about miscommunications. I know that shouldn't be a surprise, hell television shows are full of communication asymmetry. Comedies base their foundations on it. So why do real life couples become immersed in it, consumed by it, and unable to see clearly to the rational side of the tunnel on the other side?
Because we're egotistical beasts. We think we're right. We think our opinions are the most right and our feelings the most valid and that our job in life is to pass on that impressive wisdom to the populace at large. I wonder now, that it's too late, why I wasn't able to let up sooner. Why I couldn't sit back and listen to the other side of the conflict. Why my priorities got so bent out of shape that a pretzel would be envious of my delirious logic.
So now we ignore each other. Occasionally a Christmas card arrives in the post or an email pops up on my birthday. We won't likely ever forget each other, but the good moments have evaporated forever. How was I to know that there was a finite supply of water in the cistern of love? We filled it up in the first month we were together and the relationship ended when it dried out. The smart ones, those who nurture the cycle, manage to make clouds and rain and whatever moisture is lost through attrition barely dips the surface below the full line. But those of us who are too absorbed in our own priorities, we look the other way when some spills to the ground. And we shrug when a cloud blows beyond the horizon, figuring another cloud will be by soon.
But they never return.
We only got one allocation. Next time, I'll treat it with care.
4 comments:
When we are kids or yet youthful, as I am, things and feelings, in their novelty, seem absolute. My first feeling of melancholic nostalgia -- where I yearn for the past that cannot return, an obvious transition point being high school graduation -- seems like something to learn from, as if I can prevent that sort of situation from happening again. Reason is absolute. Gradually, truth is absolute. I take my day to day as if it is possible to not ever repeat my mistakes...
But in relationships, for the philosophy of it, emotions trump reason. The cycles of day-to-day, being caught in the present, being forgetful of our resolve, all are elements to make you who you are today.
Episodes like this you describe make me thoughtful of the challenges of relationships, namely the challenge of making it not seem like a challenge, which is the ideal euphoria.
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