It’s OK to Go to Bed Mad

I wonder if the person who said “never go to bed mad” knew that this truism would go on to fuck with the heads of many innocent people who find themselves in real life relationships where sometimes things suck and you know what? You just have to go to bed mad.

OK, I just looked it up and it turns out that Phyllis Diller said this! What? That’s disappointing because Phyllis Diller was a rad fucking feminist lady whom I respect and now I feel bad for ragging on one of her most popular quotes. Here it is in its entirety:

“Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight.”

With all due respect, Ms. Diller, Why? Why? Why must we stay up and fight when one of us is clearly emotionally maxed out and can’t handle one more minute of this conflict? Did you have any idea that this catchy little line of yours would worm itself into the heads of many a hopeless romantic and become a golden rule of relationship communication they’re terrified to break because maybe then it means their relationship is doomed and Oh My God, we’re going to bed mad, what does this mean?

Well, I’ve come to learn it doesn’t really mean a goddamn thing. It means we went to bed mad, slept for a while, and then woke up.

It took me a while to get over this fear of going to bed mad. But for me, and my relationship, this isn’t the worst or scariest thing to do. The first time it happened, I lay there in bed with the covers pulled up tightly to my chin. Then I tossed and turned vigorously, hoping this would make my dude pay attention to me and continue the conversation he just told me he couldn’t have anymore that night. When that didn’t work, I flipped to my side and my mind rattled with all the reasons why he was the worst and all the things I needed to say in order to prove it. I closed my eyes and composed a smart and tidy list, each item seared into the back of my eyelids and punctuated with a sharp little bullet point of anger. I couldn’t wait to share these things with him in the morning.

Eventually I fell asleep. Around 5:30, the N Judah train whirred to life and clattered up its worn tracks the way it does every morning. And our cat, waking at the noise, leaped onto the bed and burrowed down into the cat-sized spot in the covers between us and started to purr. Upon being woken up by this familiar little series of events, I opened my eyes to the sunlight glowing through our thin white cotton curtains and searched for that streak of the sunrise that pokes through where the curtains don’t quite close, a thin slice of coral and peach. There was my guy next to me, one arm flopped over the cat, just like any other old weekday morning. I tried to recall my master list of Things Gone Wrong. But in the thick silence and warmth of dawn, I couldn’t. What was I going to say again? I thought as I nestled into the flannel pillow, the weight of the cat against my back, and fell asleep.

I don’t remember exactly what happened the next day, but I do know that when we woke up all of those hard edges had softened a bit. It’s amazing what eight hours of sleep and a little perspective can do for strong emotions — e.g., chill them the fuck out.

Maybe, God bless you, you will never go to bed mad. Maybe in your relationship you are both the kind of people (like me) who can talk and analyze emotions for hours and hours and never feel worn out or depleted; maybe you even like doing this. In that case, go for it: stay up and fight. But I’ve learned the hard lesson that not everyone is programmed just like me. Trust me, it sucks. But it’s so real. As it turns out, there are goodhearted people out there who need space alone in order to process their thoughts and for whom hours of emotional conflict is like being hanged, drawn, and quartered, all in the comfort of their own living room.

If you are this kind of person, or if you share a life with this kind of person, I’m here to tell you that it’s totally OK to go to bed mad. Take the time you need. Do what feels best for your relationship. Phyllis Diller, bless her heart, nailed a doozie of a quote — but let’s be honest: she didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. None of us know what the fuck we’re talking about when it comes to love. We have to wing it, and sometimes that means doing things that are uncomfortable. But even if we’re scared at first, chances are we’ll come out on the other side to find that we are still alive, still in our own skin, still in love, and maybe - just maybe - not even still mad.