When the shit hits the fan

Ok, I've been reviewing some of my past blogs and I have to apologize. I vowed to "keep it 100" which means 100% real and genuine. But when I look back over my blogs, I realize that maybe I've left a few things out that are important. I find myself saying things like, "sometimes things are difficult" or "marriage is hard work" but I haven't gotten down to the nitty-gritty. Thus I didn't keep it 100.

Here's the real.

Our anniversary just passed. What I find myself wanting to write is that I ordered my wife flowers and had them delivered to her at work (which I did). I want to say that she bought me an ipod and I finally got to ditch my old Ipod shuffle that I've been using since '06 (which she did buy me). I want all my people to know that I made reservations at a fancy restaurant on the East Side (which I did). Those things are true, but there's another side to the story.

To make a long story short, we got into a big ass argument. One of the bad ones where feelings get hurt. It was the kind of argument that makes you wonder if marriages really work or not. It was the kind of argument that my friends who think we have it perfect don't know about. But it's also the kind of argument that lets you know a lot about your relationship.

Let me qualify: it wasn't an argument over a life-changing event. It wasn't an issue of commitment or money. It sure as hell wasn't about something that's a "deal breaker." It started Friday night when we were at dinner with a couple "friends." I say that in quotations, because they also happen to be parents from the school. For me that automatically means that I cannot relax around them, because our relationship is predicated on my job and our professional interactions. To make a long story short, Lori engaged in conversation about matters at the school which made me uncomfortable...well, it actually pissed me off. I didn't mention anything until the next day. One thing led to another and we ended up in an old fashioned blowout. It wasn't a blowout about the conversation though. It was one of those arguments that had been brewing for months. It was about work, stress, kids, and everything else that goes along with raising a family and maintaining a marriage. It was truly a time when neither of us were willing to give.

By 7:00 we had decided (not really but we were both really mad) that we were not going to the East Side for dinner. She stormed out of the house with steam coming out of her ears, and I proceeded to get dressed for a night out. Of course, our babysitter was in place, so I decided to leave before she got back. Not the best idea on your anniversary.

So I get downtown and spend the night walking up and down Beale Street listening to the blues (while getting hammered). I walked the streets of downtown Memphis wondering how the hell I ended up alone and drunk on the day when we're supposed to be celebrating our years together. I sent texts to a few of my friends letting them know I was in the midst of a terrible evening. I thought about calling her, but decided that I wasn't going to be the one to give in. So I sat in back of some blues bar at a table by myself, looking like the most pitiful man in Memphis. I wondered how we were going to be a successful couple when we couldn't even make our anniversary weekend enjoyable.

We didn't speak much the next day (which happened to be Valentine's day). She tried to make amends, but I was too stubborn to listen. She gave me my ipod and I said "thanks". The day went on in silence as I am the master of psycological warfare. That's my strength. I'm not so good in the heat of the argument, but I'm a sonofabitch when comes to being silent.

By the time 8:00 hit, I had decided that I wasn't going to sit around trying to be mean for another minute. I got dressed and said, "I'll see you later." I went over the Flying Saucer, a local pub with a great beer selection, and took a seat at the bar. Then I got a text saying "This is worst Valentine's day I've ever had...I tried to apologize and I gave you a gift...you repay by leaving?" I know, it was the wrong thing to do, but what can I say?

I texted back and that started WWIII, "The War of the Texts." We went back and forth for the better part of two hours with all the reasons why the other person was wrong. We traded our thoughts that we'd been harboring for some time on a litany of topics. Every once in a while I paused to say, "give me another" to the bartender. By the end of the night, I felt something that scared me: I didn't want to come home. I drove around for a while and even gave some random dude a ride...after I told him I would fuck him up if he tried anything.

The next day started the same: silence. I was determined that it wasn't my fault and not my turn to break. I told myself that it was on her this time and I would wait as long as it took. But then I realized that I hadn't spoken more than two words to my best friend in days. Folks, I realized that it hurt and it was lonely. So I broke the silence. It wasn't the type of conversation that ends with laughter and a play fight. It was some serious shit. We said things like, "you need to make me a priority again" and "I never thought I would feel like this." It was the type of conversation that defines relationships and through the pain, you figure out a way to get back on the same page. It wasn't fixed, but we gained a common ground.

Sometimes the shit hits the fan. It doesn't go right and people get hurt. The true test of friendship is that you fight through it, together. It takes a lot of trust to spill your guts to someone who has hurt you, but you have to be willing to go there. Even when it's a little scary.

I decided to take the morning off today. I invited Lori to Starbucks and we talked for a couple hours about stuff. Not about the argument. We took some time to connect on the level where everything started: as friends. We just talked about stuff that friends talk about, and it was the best morning I've had in a long time. I'm really looking forward to dinner tonight.