He thinks I’m controlling. I think he’s a moody pain in the…dum, dee, dum, dum….where was I going with this?
I’ve often wondered where couples go wrong. Where’s the turning point of no return? In a happy marriage, there will be lots of disagreements. Should we be honest here? Let’s call them what they are – fights. It’s healthy and normal and without conflict you are unable to learn about eachother, and yourself.
Sometimes when we argue I can’t imagine calming down enough to hear him, let alone forgive him or compromise that perhaps it was my fault, too. But always, we’re civilized and kind. No name-calling, no Jerry Springer-esque outbursts. I guess we’re just not theatrical.
Somehow, in this happy marriage of ours, a resolution always materializes. Tonight it came in the form of a foot rub. After a day and a half of being irritated by eachother for various reasons, we were sitting on the couch watching a movie and, as is the norm, I had my feet on my husband’s lap. If he’d asked me, I would have said No, thank you. I do not want anything rubbed by you right now. I didn’t move, though.
Eventually I began to relax, tension dispersing slowly, and I felt less and less like duking it out and more like watching the movie and laughing and figuring out a way to express my feelings in an olive branch sort of way.
They say when a little kid has a tantrum that he’ll calm down if you hug him firmly. Don’t suffocate the kid, just hug him. The theory is that the closeness – whether through scent or body heat or whatever the heck it is – allows the child to relax and ditch the tantrum.
Was it the same here? Are my feet the secret to lulling myself into zen-like compromise with my husband?
I’m not sure, but I do like when he rubs my feet.
What do you argue about? Is anyone getting a foot rub out of the deal?