Ours was on the internet, because we met there, and I think we may have been talking politics, or something, I don't know -- but we got into a wild argument on email, and called it quits. I was so angry I deleted all of the emails I had kept from him to that point, etc. But then a day or so later I got his picture in the mail, and he had gotten mine, and I saw his -- I have this moment cemented in my memory -- and I remember seeing it and feeling this zzziiiinnng and thinking "Shit, what did I do?" and he must have thought/felt the same, because then we started emailing each other again and met for the first time a month or so later (and he moved in a month after that).

I still have that picture in my wallet, though it's pretty worn out. I do regret that I had deleted all the emails!

Sam

Oh, I so remember that spat, and he does too...in excrutiating detail, although at least it makes him laugh everytime he retells it.

I had my own apartment and he used to spend weekends with me. We were preparing a lovely meal together...he was putting together a salad and I was making homemade marinara sauce, and we were standing at the counter, sipping wine and chatting. He pulled out a head of iceburg lettuce and began tearing the leaves off and ripping them into small pieces with his hands. I had worked in a restaurant during college (preparing salads) and I had a different method...I'd smash the head of lettuce down on the cutting board to dislodge and remove the heart, and then I'd slice it all up with a big knife.

So I told him that he should slice the lettuce, and he disagreed, saying the knife would cause the lettuce to wilt, or some such thing. But I insisted, even pulling out a cutting board and handing him a big knife. Now a prudent person would have seen his expression and backed off (moving the knife safely out of reach), but not me. Nope...I really wanted him to do things my way. He took that knife and skewered the cutting board with it, and told me if he was going to make the &*&%# salad, then he'd damned well do it his own way and if I didn't like it, then he'd leave and I could make it my own damned self.

I think I made a little squeaking sound and told him he could do it his way. We've gotten much better at compromising on things, but when he has salad duty, I leave well enough alone!

Hi, Jeannie and Sam and Karen,

Now I know we've had spats and still do... for the life of me, I can't remember what the first one was about or when it was. I'm sure I'm blocking it because it likely isn't nearly as entertaining in the retelling as your tales. (And possibly simply painful ;)) These days I think nearly all our spats are about the same thing--I'm unperturbed by the clutter in the house while the same stacks and piles are driving him completely mad. Argh! (I'm not sure we could have predicted this way back when--it's interesting how many things we gloss over in the first blush of a relationship ;))

I don't remember the first. Maybe because we've been together for 22 years. When we met, I was a single mum and I just remember a lot going on those first few years.

One I do remember well involved the weather.

We had made plans to go biking one weekend. For us, that means packing up the bikes, taking a ferry over to Seattle, getting on the Burke-Gilman trail (52 miles of bike paths), riding about 20 miles, getting on another ferry, coming home, unpacking the bikes and starting dinner.

We had planned to go on Sat but on Sat I just was not in the mood. I wheedled until we didn't go with the assurance that we would go the next day.

We woke up on Sunday and it was pouring. Absolute sheets of rain. None of which had been predicted. I, playing little ani sunshine, tried to convince him that the weather would be better over in Seattle.

So we loaded up the bikes, and headed for the ferry (a good half hour away). We were actually in line for the ferry and looking across the Puget Sound and it was grey and rain as far as the eye could see. He UTurned and we headed back home.

The mood in the house was darker than the skies outside. Finally, just as we were going to bed he said, "If the weather is good on the day we say we're going to do something, let's just do it. No excuses." I agreed.

Of course, a few years later we were supposed to drive from Sac to LA with my MIL (not the best of travelling companions) and he decided to wait one extra day.

It was raining sheets when we got up and we were stuck in a car with his mother for 7 hours with nothing to look at to divert us.

I didn't say a word but he knew what I was thinking.

ani

that we're British, lol.

We're not really arguers--though we've had a few, I must admit. Which does mean our first one just doesn't register in my memory. Keep in mind, our "discussions" are riddled with phrases like, "I'm not saying this to offend you, but..." or "I don't want to use the word "(blank)", but..." and the eternal classic, "Okay, I understand that. You're right. Buuuut...."

Believe me, a transcription of our arguments read like a passage from a Victorian novel, but the tension is very real and so is the anger at times. My sisters regularly accuse me of not having any passion, but as those are the same sisters who think a fist fight with their significant others is part of passion, lol, I think I'll live without.

Though, one argument does come to mind. I believe it was whether or not we were going to church of all things. All of a sudden I was yelling at him, he was giving me the silent treatment (at that point, he was of the opinion that if he showed me his face when he was angry, I'd be afraid of him--snort. He's since learned I'm not afraid of him in any state) and I just short of started throwing things at him. Totally, irrationally pissed, I stormed out of the apartment, passed my stunned speechless sister and clomped three blocks away before I realized I had no idea what I was mad about.

As you can imagine...three weeks later I realized I was pregnant. LOL!

Dee

I can't exactly remember the whole situation but I remember it had to do with his clothes lying everywhere and him not doing his share of the laundry chores. What started as a minor spat turned into a critique about each person's habits. I have since learned not to bring up previous disagreements and not to start complaining about his person.

Our first spat was over his dirty clothes. He just threw them at the hamper, not caring if they went in or not. I told him I would not wash the clothes that landed on the floor---he got mad and said I would. After three weeks of not washing the clothes on the floor, I noticed that there were fewer and fewer on the floor and more in the hamper

What a wonderful story, Jeannine. I can particularly identify with the loss of leftovers as my DH sees those as fair game. After 20 years I've learned to tag the ones I want for myself before they even make it into the frig!

Our first spat occurred in the second year of our marriage right after the birth of our eldest daughter. She had been sick with a bad ear infection and sinus infection and was having trouble breathing. She was only two months old and the time to leave for his family's house for Christmas was quickly approaching. The pediatrician told me not to take her on an 8 hour drive to the in laws house but his mother was insisting and he was not willing to disappoint her. I was so very angry with all the fury of a mother lioness protecting her cub and he was as stubborn as a pack mule tired of his burden. I don't think I've ever been as mad before or after this experience, and still after all these years feel my back go up with the retelling.

The kicker -- once we arrived the meds finally started helping and she seemed so much better. His mother made plenty of "I told you so" comments and you can only imagine how I took those.

Just recently I found a letter I'd written to him expressing my frustrations about that situation and all the emotions of that time came flooding back -- 18 years later!

We don't have too many arguments but the ones we do have always center on either the kids or house clutter.

I remember ours vividly. It was our first night together and the next morning I got up to make breakfast. I cooked bacon and like my mom does, I got it pretty crispy. He said it was burnt and that he didn't eat burnt bacon. I was so ticked off that I barely spoke to him the rest of the day. LOL

Deidre

I was young at the time and I was annoyed because my husband (boyfriend at the time) had a last minute band practice and I was hoping to see him that nite.

Dh had gone to a 'work' meeting in the nearby town with someone else driving. I didn't know that the usual was a 'few drinks' for some of the employees at a local bar after the meetings. I was so angry when he got home that I let him have it with both barrels as they say. Poor guy couldn't do anything because he was a passenger in the car and had to wait for the driver.

I do. Our first fight was over my husband planning a weekend fishing trip with his brother and not telling me. I found out about it from his brother. I was furious.