Remember When

[10]

fighting

We used to fight about anything and everything. It started mostly once we both graduated college and then moved in together. I kind of expected us to have problems because obviously most couples have problems once they move into together. But, oh my god, sometimes we just couldn't stand each other.

We had the horrible habit of not censoring our fights. We could fight about anything, anywhere. I think the worst one we had was when you thought it was a good idea to start a fight with me at your sister's wedding. I actually take responsibility for the majority of fights that we had, but that was not one of them. We could both get jealous over the smallest things, and that definitely didn't work. We somehow made it work usually, but if one of us made the slightest misstep while the other was in a bad mood, it was game over.

That day, though, you were drunk. Extremely drunk. You accused me of hitting on your cousin, and I remember shoving you in the bathroom to talk about it before you could make a scene outside. We ended up screaming so loud that some of the guests came in to see what was happening.

That whole thing about couples have to fight to remain healthy was pretty much our motto. If I was having a bad day, I could fight with you about again. You were a lot better than I was, except when you were intoxicated or completely fed up with everything. But even then it could take a bit for you to actually confront me about something. I would go after you over the absolute stupidest things. I knew what I was doing was stupid and pointless, but I did it anyways. I've started fights with you about money or cleaning the apartment, which I suppose was more justifiable than the fights over things like how you cook certain things or how you grocery shop.

We used to get into fights while in the car which has almost made us get into numerous different wrecks. You would usually drive and I would usually start the fight. You would get so distracted when trying to come back at me that you might've even pulled over in a gas station for us to argue. You used to beat your hands against the steering wheel in frustration, and I can find myself doing it sometimes when I'm driving also out of frustrating. I still hate driving on my own.

These fights, though, don't come even close to worst of the worst of the fights we had. I still remember where it started, and I remember everything else we threw at each other. Nothing was off the table, and we got everything off our chests in a three hour long screaming match.

I remember screaming about any person I'd ever seen you take a pass at, every person that I felt even the slightest bit threatened by. I wasn't drunk, I was just hurt because of my stupid jealous tendencies. You had spent more time talking to one of my coworkers - and let's be honest, flirting as well - at a dinner party we had. I didn't talk about it for a day or two until I eventually cracked and started the fight over dinner. At first you didn't answer me, but then you realized that I wasn't going to stop.

You didn't try to make excuses, it wasn't your way. You just apologized and tried to justify, but I didn't believe anything. You tried to hug and kiss me and make everything okay, but I was furious beyond compare over something stupid. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if we hadn't been fighting almost every other day. I felt more and more distant from you, and any time your eyes lingered for a second too long on anyone else, I got so scared that you were about to leave me. Fighting you was obviously not the best decision, but I guess I thought I would fight for the right to keep you.

You eventually began firing back at me, accusing me of so many things that I was probably guilty of and I did the same thing to you. We fought about everything we never had the energy to fight about before. I shouted about how your family will never approve of me and how you didn't care. You shrieked about how I almost let my best friend move in with us when we got our own apartment. At some point you started crying, and I felt myself doing the same. You gave up after a little awhile and retreated to wash the dishes.

I remember following you into the kitchen where you were trying to avoid me. You were trying to remain as calm as you could, but as soon as I said something, you threw one of the plates on the floor, shattering it at my feet. "Why don't you just fucking leave, then?" You screamed, trying to keep yourself from crying again.

I can still feel how much that stung. I hated hearing it, and I hated how sincere you looked when you said it. I caught your eye for the shortest second as you waited for a response, but all I did was walk forward and kiss your cheek briskly. I started making my way to the door as you sobbed behind me. You ripped at my clothes and my hands muttering, "No, no, no, no." You chased me all the way outside where you kissed me and apologized a thousand more times, continuing to beg me.

"You're coming back. You're going to be back." You didn't make them questions. You were trying to convince yourself and me. You hooked you arm on my neck to pull me the absolute closest to you. I eventually pulled away from you and got in my car. I didn't look at you as I drove away and to my best friend's house. He let me stay there overnight, and I was back in my car by six the next morning. You were sleeping on the couch, and I wasn't going to wake you, but you heard me walking around.

Your face lit up so brightly when you saw me, and I grinned in response to you jumping up and hugging me. You kissed me repeatedly, tears running from your face on to mine. "You know I love you." You said against my lips.

"I'm not leaving. Never. I love you." I said back quickly, fumbling over my words because I wanted to tell you everything at once. "I love you." I repeated quieter this time.

"I know."