One of the weirdest things about The Mister and me is that we don't fight. I have always picked fights with my men. I think it was a way for me to get some power over them. You know how I like control and all. The Mister won't let me. He simply diffuses all of my attempts to start a fight, so we really do have peace about 94% of the time.
I've been mad at him before, but it's usually been some fear based freak session that he patiently waits for me to come to my senses again.
But last week I was tired, the dog was crying, and he misspoke a thing that I'm sensitive about. I was livid. I think my pride reared its head. I hate when that happens.
Don't worry. We talked our way to the other side. We both said I'm sorry. And we cuddled for awhile.
As a former committed-to-single woman, I have to watch my pride because in those tense moments my instinct is to pull away from him and lock him out. That tactic has kept me safe for all these years. Course, it also means I keep him out which I'd imagine is bad for a marriage.
Hooray for new days and do overs.
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