wittering away.

i was talking to a co-worker yesterday and she ended up telling me about a huge barney she had with her boy the other night. i was dismayed that our conversation has led down the path of more intimate details.  i hardly talk to the girl and i would rather have kept the conversation to the weather and how i’m settling in australia.  oh well,  too late.  so she’s going on and on,  i’m vigourously stirring my coffee, occassionally nodding my head but i keep stirring, looking straight into my cup,  thinking that if i stir hard enough, it’ll make her disappear.  i’m lost in thoughts of how to exit this conversation “yeah, that sucks.  well,  see you later” / “dump him. back to work!” / “i think that’s my phone ringing” / “i speaka no good english.”  finally, shes’ done talking, and she says to me “i mean, you know what it’s like right?”  i should say “yes i do,”  pat her reassuringly on the arm and walk away.  but no, i don’t know what it’s like. so i said “well,  actually,  we don’t fight.”
“don’t fight a lot, or don’t fight ever?”
“don’t fight ever.  i dunno,  we just don’t fight.”
“that’s not normal.  i mean,  you’re not perfect. surely you’ve done something or he’s done something that riled you up.”
(oooh, touche!  flashbacks of tandoori chicken incident from a couple of weeks ago – but wait,  the Brit didn’t get mad.  he just waited for it to pass and offered to go out and get me my damn chicken)
“i have my moments.  but we don’t fight.”
“that’s totally not normal.  if you’re in a healthy relationship,  you fight so you know each other’s opinions and where you stand on issues.  if you don’t fight,  you’re afraid of something and fear is not healthy.  i go to a counselor and that’s what they tell me.  i don’t believe you don’t fight.  you’re so weird.”

and with that,  she smiled at me and patted me on the arm like i’m the one that needed reassuring and walked back to her desk.  wtf?  i know i’ve talked about this before,  but this is the first time someone has actually told me that we’re not normal.  the Brit and i talk,  we have debates, and we certainly don’t agree on everything but we’ve never fought.  hey, i’ve even tried to pick fights with him.  i prefer not to fight.  my voice gets all high pitched and i start to cry and act PSYCHO.  so i avoid it at all costs.  i don’t think the Brit has a mean bone in his body.  seriously,  he is SO nice.  everyone tells me how nice he is.  he makes me feel like an asshole sometimes – that’s how nice he is (right, i know, doesn’t take much to make me feel like an asshole).  and as long as he can put up with me and wants to stay married to me,  then i know i’ve got it pretty damn good.