Fight Club

A couple of days ago, I had this great post written out in my head.

It was going to be all about the joys of dating as a (slightly) older woman. I was going to talk about how wonderful it is to be free from worrying about “where is this going?” How great it is not to need all those constant little signs, like talking to or seeing each other every day (or both). 

I wanted to talk about allowing each other the freedom to pursue individual goals and take care of the things that mattered long before you entered into each other’s lives, without feeling like that means you’re putting your partner second.

I planned to discuss how living independently for several decades renders moot those traditional “how to know it’s serious” milestones like meeting the parents, meeting the best friends, going on a trip together, etc.

I was going to conclude by talking about the joy of knowing that you’ll spend time together because you want to see him, and you know – without having to think about it – that he wants to see you just as much.

And then my SO and I had the most idiotic fight ever.

I can’t even really call it a fight. It was more like an anti-fight. It was infuriating because it wasn’t a fight. If it had been a fight, it would have been much better. We would have gotten it all out, and then…you know.*

*For the record, I am not a proponent of make-up sex, but I’m willing to try almost anything once.

I’ll probably still wind up writing that dating while older post. It was a good post, and no reason for it to be wasted in my head among the ruins of all the other unposted posts that lie there, taking up precious brain space. But to post it now, while I’m seething, feels disingenuous.

The particulars aren’t important. They almost never are. And I fully expect that by this evening, this too shall pass.

On my way to work this morning, I was tempted to post on Twitter, “Worst morning ever.” Except I’ve had the worst morning ever, and it had nothing to do with a stupid ass non-argument. It was the morning my oldest sister called me to tell me our mom died. I’m praying I never have to deal with anything worse than that. I don’t think even my own last morning on this planet will be as devastating as that one was.

Thinking of that true worst morning ever, two years ago, put it all into perspective.

This is nothing. And if turns into something bigger than just a minor misunderstanding, in a way, that’s good, too. A big part of the relationship dance is testing the boundaries, locating where the pain points and the breaking points lie, and deciding whether or not you’re willing to operate within those established boundaries.

Enough said for now. If you see that dating post on the site anytime soon, you’ll know we worked it all out.


One Response to “Fight Club”

  1. Angela Says:

    I love your honesty and your (mature) ability to put this and everything else into the proper perspective. I really do hope to see the post on dating while mature, because I have so little experience actually dating in the past 16 years, and I’m actually scared to consider the process again.

    As for the challenges you’re facing with your S/O, may it all work out as designed and may you both grow in your appreciation of each other…and yourselves.

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