The other day Kate and I couldn’t stop fighting. It was just one of those “we’ve been together for 10 years” kind of days, ya know? Our tempers flared every two hours or so, then quickly subsided only to flare up again over something I cannot for the life of me remember now. We fought like feral cats on their periods. Lots of hissing. Also, lots of “I feel” statements followed by way too many other seemingly emotionally intelligent phrases that we’d learned in couples therapy but had since figured out how to weaponize. Anyway, she was driving me bananas. She drove me so bananas, in fact, that around 8:30 pm, I erected a wall between us in bed. We sleep in a queen and the dog happened to be on my other side, so, all in, the width between us was only about 4 inches. Still, it felt like enough. The pillowy wall was my way of saying, “I do not like you right now!”
But Kate—funny, wonderful, stubborn Kate—was not interested in my wall. Just like she isn’t interested in my deep thoughts on …
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