As all relationships do, David and I have not been without our communication foibles. Despite the fact that we both speak english, my Canadian upbringing and his English education has always put us at odds which then quickly desolves into a linguistic debate.
For instance, I say tuna as in toon-ah. David says chew-na.
I also say us as in u-ssssss (rhymes with bus), where David would say uz (rhymes with fuzz).
Over the years, we've never actually resolved these differences and instead have lulled into quiet constant arguement over who is right (even though we both know that I am). It works for us, and is a stupid quirk that helps keep our identities seperate. Because the boobs v. penis wasn't obvious enough. Or the passports from two differnt countries. Or different birthdays. You get the point.
But this isn't about how David and I are different, and is instead about how we communicate. Like a lot of couples, the early days did not involve a lot of communication. They involved sex. And then some more sex. To the point that we were both light-headed with so much blood hanging about our nether regions. And the sex was GOOD. Like I had never known. Who was I to say no to a marriage proposal?
Of course, we then had to decide on where to live, where to get married, what jobs to have, what accounts to merge and not merge. Then the communication barrier was truly recognised. After 30+ years on our own, we struggled to find a way that worked for both of us. Our poor old scottish lady neighbour got more than an earful on most nights, so thin were our apartment walls and loud were my our voices. How our front door was hanging on after the beating it took is beyond my comprehension. These were arguments laced with 'passion'.
Six years later, we're much better at talking. But that's not to say that we couldn't use a little improvment. We've got finances down to an art; an art that includes no finance talk in a small room, daily finances that are handled by email, and the big decisions usually made in an outside forum. It may sound complicated, but this way neither of us feels backed into a corner. We've also agreed not to have financial talks at the end of a working day, since we're both tired and a little tetchy if the day has been hard (and so the day-time emails evolved).
The one area that we're still working on? Family. Or more specifically, what to do about the fact we don't have one...yet. To be truthful, it's more me to blame for the lack of conversation around it at this point. It's a touchy subject, one that can't be raised in a confined area, at the end of the day, when we're both tired and already thinking of what needs to be done for tomorrow.
Obviously, we both know where we're up to. But how do we decide what to do next? How do you have a rational conversation about your biological Big Ben clock without getting emotional, crying and fucking up the whole talk? Because that's what I really want to do. Is figure out how to get to that point so that I can talk about it without cracking up. Do I have to smoke a doobie to get to that mellow ideal? I'm not above that. And you wouldn't even have to twist my arm.
I'm waiting for the weekend. When we've both had some decent sleep, a slow wake-up, a good coffee and can take a walk in the sun. Ok, and maybe some sex. If that doesn't put us in a good mood, I don't have any other tricks up my sleeve to make this work.
I suppose, like most of you out there (with kids or not), I'm waiting for that 'perfect moment'. When
we're all in a good mood and smiling and...well, when we look like some sort of perverse department store commerical. But there is no 'moment' is there? This is a 'close your eyes a leap' sort of thing I guess, which is the only way you figure out if a belly flop or swan dive will work.
