Stephen: Bomb Squad Expert (In Training)
We had our first married fight.
It happened during the biological and emotional hurricane women politely refer to as “that time of the month”, so things didn’t look good for Stephen from the outset.
It should have been a simple resolution.
“It hurt my feelings when you did that, because of the following reasons.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I won’t do that again.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that in the first place.”
That’s how it normally goes, when I possess the ability to coherently communicate my thoughts and feelings. But we went in circles, accomplishing nothing, for at least an hour. The whole thing was ridiculous. By the time we stopped, I couldn’t really remember what we were talking about.
Stephen said he felt like he was trying to dismantle a bomb. So the new rule about arguing while I’m TMSing is:
Step 1: Cautiously offer me chocolate. (cheese also is an acceptable peace offering)
Step 2: Suggest a bath. Light candles. (optional)
Step 3: Get the hell out of the house for at least an hour.
Step 4: Return to a relaxed and less volatile Rachel who probably will have appreciated your thoughtfulness, realized her own error, and likely will apologize immediately.
Step 5: Make up.