Three years ago on October 2nd R convinced me that he should be my boyfriend. You can read more about how that all went down, but just know that I didn’t say okay because he was right (which, of course he was). I said okay because he knew what he wanted and didn’t have time for games (which is still his MO when it comes to everything from which couch to buy – the brown one – to what to order at any given breakfast spot – the breakfast burrito).

Last year on this day I wrote about my #1 secret to a successful relationship. I’m proud to say it’s still my #1, though obviously far less secret.

Today I thought I’d continue the tradition by sharing another secret to “success.” This one is way weirder and oddly personal than we’re-both-nice-to-each-other-all-the-time. In fact, it’s exactly the opposite.

Sometimes I like it when we fight. In this really strange way that I’m going to attempt to explain, I think I sort of need it. 

To be clear, R and I don’t “fight” in the TV movie sense of the word. Nobody has ever yelled. Nobody has ever cried. I think the most heated exchange we’ve ever experienced was about a flip cup tournament (somebody got a little competitive and somebody else is a total sissy when it comes to competition).

But like any couple/roommate/family we can get snippy. Sometimes someone repeatedly does the exact same thing “wrong”, and that’s annoying. There are times when one of us is in a mood and the other tries the wrong tactics to make things better. And throwing a dinner party out of a kitchen the size of a walk-in closet would be challenging for the most saintly among us, for example. 

And so we get into a thing. Maybe it’s called a “tiff?” Words get shorter. Eye contact lessens. Somebody says whatever in the same tone they used throughout all of middle school. You get it.

I hate these moments. I’m angry because of whatever is angering me, but I’m more angry that I can’t just get over it. I know R feels the same, but when two people are at odds it doesn’t just go away with a “sorry” and “it’s okay, but try not to do it again.” It lingers, and that lingering is miserable.

But then, and I can’t explain how this works, it sort of lifts? I’m sure the better word is dissipates, but it really does feel like there’s a curtain hanging between us that somehow just decides to raise. I look at R and decide I’m over it, or that I was wrong and he was right the whole time, or that I have something I want to tell him that’s going to sound super dumb through my mad voice. And so I take a step out of awkward-mad-us and into normal-fun-us – or he takes a step first and I decide to follow – but after a few minutes we’re back to how we are – or maybe who we are?

And then I feel this deep sense of relief. I think – yes, we’re doing it! This is a relationship! We had a mini fight but now we’re fine. This evidence suggests that we’d be fine if we had a little bigger than a mini fight! We really love each other! Okay! This is good! This is what it’s all about!

It’s not that I enjoy any part of the process that gets me to that thought. I think it’s that once I’m one the other side of the thing I’m grateful for the experience of knowing we can get there. I gives me a sense of security in our relationship. And for that reason, I like it just a little bit – like the way you like a tough work-out or one of those movies that’s really a thinker, I guess.

And if you’re under the impression that I think all these totally bizarre thoughts to myself and don’t – say – share them with R in the form of very educational pillow talk – my final, deep thought offering before drifting off to sleep – then you obviously haven’t been reading this blog for long. I think it’s as important to celebrate the good times as it is to celebrate getting over the bad, and luckily R agrees.

Plus, since he’s the one who convinced me to be his girlfriend (and future wife for that matter), I think it’s nice to let him know that I’m still very pleased with my decision – three years to the day later.