The Old Mexican Stand-Off

So here's how our marriage used to work - when we'd get pissed at each other, we'd end up not talking for days and sometimes weeks at a time. I suppose that's better than yelling, name-calling or physical abuse, but it still wasn't good. I used to try to break it early in the game - but I was usually met with a cold shoulder - and it didn't take long to realize that she wasn't going to stop being mad until she was ready. So I just took to backing off and giving her space until... I don't know... until I got a sign from God or something. What I didn't realize is that while she didn't let me smooth things out - she still expected me to try. Thus, my lack-of-engagement really did nothing but make her more mad - which then prompted us to continue the stand-off until... I don't know we both got a sign from God.

...Might I add that I'm an agnostic, and she's a staunch atheist....

What she didn't take into account was my ability to fortify my psyche - to dig in and preserve myself indefinitely if need be. You see, my whole world depends on positive energy - I thrive on it. What I generate for the sake of others comes back to me tenfold (ah, if only more people knew that). But when starved of it, especially in the one relationship that is supposed to provide it more than others... I find myself forced to rely more heavily on other sources.

Just to be clear - I'm not talking about an affair.... When things are kind of tense at home, I find myself talking more with friends, laughing more with students, playing a little more with the action figures on my desk, and singing a little louder with the radio. None of it is a real substitute for good times with the wife - but collectively it gets me by. (The only down side is that I'm prone to spend money in this state.) I might also add that I strongly believe that each of us, no matter our relationship status, is ultimately responsible for our own happiness - and this philosophy has gotten me through many a dark hour (most of which were not caused by marital stress.)

Now, here's the part where Dr. Phil jumps in and gives a lecture on healthy communication. Believe me I subscribe to that - and I used to work towards that from the start of any conflict. The problem is, I started to feel like I was the one responsible for communicating - she was the one who was allowed to be mad (and silent) until she was ready to cool off. I got tired of the one-sidedness, and I stopped trying. Call that lazy and irresponsible, but it was kind of a game of emotional cops-and-robbers where the cops had to play by the rules, and the robbers didn't. I think anyone would get tired of that after a while. I'm not saying I had the particular moral high ground - when we got like that, it was usually over something stupid that I did.

Anyway, that was the "old" us. We hadn't done that for years... until yesterday. I got home first and went straight to bed - mostly because I didn't get any sleep the night before ( first day back to work and all... great timing, huh?). She came home a couple hours later and went right to the kitchen to make dinner. When she was done, she came in and woke me up - poking me and saying "Time for dinner." but using a tone that said "I called your name three times - why the hell didn't you answer?"

It felt like bait - I let it float by.

I staggered out and ate - feigning more drowsiness than I really had. Afterwords I put my plates away and disappeared into my man-cave for a couple hours.

See, in the old apartment - the stand-off was more tense, because there wasn't really anywhere to hide. Two basic rooms - the kitchen/dining/living room and the office/bedroom. Okay, well there's the bathroom, but damn - who wants to camp out in there for hours on end? She could pass through a room and, without saying anything, manage to communicate her displeasure by the intensity of her stomp. I always felt sorry for the downstairs neighbors when she was mad.

But the new house? Oh no... I have my own official sanctuary now - complete with cable TV, internet connection and plenty of toys to distract myself with. Of course, it is situated directly below the kitchen, a position that gives her stomp more presence than before - and she doesn't even have to be in the room. Fortunately, years of on-the-job training has given me the ability to filter out big booming noises. The man-cave affords me an easy strategy: lay low until the stomping disappears, give it another half-an-hour or so - then it's probably safe to go into the bedroom, where the angry spouse has probably already pouted herself to sleep.

And that's pretty much how last night played out.

Tonight started out similarly, except that I didn't go straight into nap-mode when I got home - I had been working for about an hour in the man-cave by the time she showed up. The stomping set in immediately (funny, she waited to get inside before she started - no stomping up the porch steps) as she made her way from the door to the kitchen. More stomping combined with frequent slamming of the child gates that separated the kitchen from the dining room/living room and the hallway leading out to the stairs... that went on for about an hour.

Finally, she called "Dinner's ready"

I took a deep breath and went up.

When I got there, I found a meticulously prepared steak dinner, complete with sauteed mushrooms, seasoned cherry tomatoes, fancy bread and a bottle of red wine.

I don't know if it was meant as an "I'm sorry".... honestly, it didn't have to be. I definitely took it as a cease-fire - and after only 48 hours. Not exactly the Alamo... and certainly better than Masada. We started off being civil - talking about the wine and whether or not the steak was cooked enough. We didn't talk a lot, but it wasn't the 'frozen dinner' that the night before was. Afterwords I kissed her on the forehead - said "Nice dinner." washed the dishes, and disappeared back into the man-cave (actually, I had work to do).

It's a start.