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Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
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1:23 a.m. - 2013-02-05
And you thought it was too good to be true.

I spent the last 24 hours completely honked at Mick. It was a variation of The Fight. Our only fight, really. Every couple has their version of The Fight. It never gets resolved. It can't. The Fight is always about turf and who we think we are as individuals and there's this thing that the other one can never, ever give over about because their way is just as valid and essential as their partner's. No matter how happy they are. Doesn't matter that both are willing to put in the grunty effort toward making their relationship work. 99% of the time they could be real life versions of those little naked people in the 'Love is...' comic and still there will be The Fight. Every couple has one, and if you're good it's the only one. What ours is about is moot. Suffice it to say we have our Fight. Nasty thing crops every few months to stink up the joint and remind us that we're still human.

So Mick and I got snarled up in The Fight. Here's the thing I really like about us- we always talk. Eventually the pissy grudge holding gives way and we remember we truly love each other and neither of us is a bad guy and we talk. Doesn't mean The Fight is gone forever, but this is of no nevermind. The important thing is how we let go of resentment. Honestly and with an eye toward decency. We put all our defensive shielding away, look at each other with complete trust we'll be heard, and find our way back to the middle where we live almost all the time.

He and I are deeply vested in our happiness together. And nothing, not even The Fight, is allowed to get in the way of that.

Wise in name and wise of soul, my dear Mary taught me something I use every single day. Namely that happiness is a choice. Especially happiness with one's mate. She taught me I could choose to focus on the stuff that pisses me off or I could step back and see the bigger picture and decide if the sum total of the good outweighs the bad. For many years I did that with the ex, that compromise of self and spirit, but it was a false equation. With the ex the sum total of misery and lack of anything sustaining was HUGE and what tiny crumbs of 'not so bad' didn't add up to doodly-squat and there was zero good. Mary's definition was much more fair. To both of the people involved. I don't know exactly what goes in the neg column with her guy, that's their business. What I do know is how much fun Joe has given her. They have a great son too. And have racked up trips all over the world and a pilgrimages to Green Bay and Ocean City. And decade's worth of support and hockey games and TLC and inside jokes and (I'm guessing here, but I'd lay money on it) lots and lots of good sex. And a hug in the dark when the future is scary. And all the other great stuff that goes with a good marriage. I know they are best friends as well as being spouses and parents together and co-owners of property and keepers of the memories for each other. Mary's gentle encouragement helped me to insist on that for my own self.

And I have that with Mick. Even if we still have that damn Fight.

Sunday into Monday evening was NOT pleasant. There were a couple times today I was glad Mick was many miles away on the Uber-Sports school's campus because if he'd been handy I'd have chucked something heavy at him. I'd have knocked him upside his thick Irish skull and not have minded a bit if his eyes crossed and his ears rang. I was that angry. And hurt. And wanting to give back even more than I got. Gypsies, man, we can be all about the vengeance if we let ourselves. Yet on some level I knew it was only The Fight and we'd get around to hashing it out and making it okay again. Hence when Mick got in tonight I was making dinner (soft tacos with all the fixings) and still went in for the "Yay! You're home!" hug. HE knew something was up with me. And I knew he knew and didn't mind overly much. Coals of fire on his head to go with the lovely meal. "Here. Eat the dinner I spent the last hour making. Yet be wary of me, old man. You have aroused the wrath of She who is menopausal. Uh huh."

I never bought into the foolish notion that a good relationship meant there was no conflict ever. What I did hope was there were easily arrived at cease fires. And good intentions on both sides. And that even when you wanted to split his head open beneath the heat of the moment there was love. Faith. Belief in your guy.

There is.

I know I have posted this once before in the Mick Years but it holds as true today as it did five years ago.


Working it out, ~LA

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