Make War, Not Love

While walking along a beach in West Kerry my wife (Stef) told me that a couple-friend of ours never fights. The girlfriend told her this.

She didn’t say it in a braggy way. It wasn’t like she was faux-complaining about how her boyfriend is too muscly or spoils her too often. It was just a fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green and this couple doesn’t fight. They never argue or yell, they barely even bicker. They are the Brady Bunch in doublet form.

This wasn’t the first pacifist couple we’d encountered. I’d heard of two such couples, my wife knew a third. As we continued around the peninsula, we discussed these peculiar beasts. We convinced ourselves that there must be some underlying issues. It was the relationship version of the San Andreas Fault — the fault line that extends through California which will inevitably lead to a disastrous earthquake. For a couple, this could mean years of peaceful, passive aggression. Then a peanut butter-covered knife is left on the counter and a decade of suppressed tension erupts in a profanity-laden, divorce-inducing tirade.

It’s not that Stef and I fight all the time. We’re not the couple that hides black eyes under dubious cover stories. We’re most definitely not in one of those sexy Latin relationships where fiery passion leads to constant fighting followed by intense love-making.