The Six-Year Pre-Itch
2004-01-12,

I�m really looking forward to year 8 of my relationship with H. Then the stigma of the itchy year 7 will have passed and we can move on.

7 is also an itchy number because it�s approximately how long H�s relationship with her ex lasted. She�s been fretting recently about the impending numeric landmark. We both do this, really, this worrying over our relationship. As maddening as it is, I think it�s a good thing in general for us, as it keeps us on our toes. Either of us would be hard pressed to take our marriage for granted when we�re so worried all the time about what would happen if things fell apart. Oh, in case you were wondering, H and I celebrated the 6th anniversary of our fateful meeting this last New Year�s.

We�ve had many of the normal problems that relationships can have. We get angry at each other, we miscommunicate, we procrastinate to the other�s dismay, etc. We still haven�t had a whiz-bang knockdown drag-out yelling match. Or even much of a normal yelling event. I can�t help but feel that this is abnormal. I also can�t help but feel that this is a good kind of abnormal, in that we are able to settle disputes without resorting to being hurtful. I abhor being hurtful, maybe to a fault, as it sometimes prevents me from conveying some of my issues. And the thing is, I know I have the ability to be very hurtful, not because H gives me lots of ammo, but because of my inevitable succinctness; I can pare down a nasty comment to a very sharp and high-velocity point. But I keep from using them because I know that it�s fruitless and can only damage something that I cherish to no end. At the same time, I (and we, I�d like to think) try not to let things build up inside, because that leads to either explosions or bitter resentment, both of which are killers. I�m generally not fond of killers.

So I try to be careful. And so does H, as she knows she�s got the clich� Italian temper and knows how to use it. So as far as I�m concerned, things will work out fine. It�s when I stop worrying that I�ll start to worry, if that makes any sense.

Meanwhile, H is going home after work rather than staying in CH for orchestra practise, which means I�m not going to get to sit about and play video games for most of the evening, which was in my original plan. I might just have to be productive or something, dammit.

-- End Transmission --