I don’t do conflict. In fact, I do everything to avoid it and that might perhaps be why I have a lot of friends and few enemies – maybe no enemies. I’ve never raised a fist, rarely raise my voice and when I’m angry I might sigh or grunt, but in the end do what’s expected.

This has been my life except, of course, in many of my dating relationships where conflicts came up and I got pissed off but never confronted. But then, it was rather easy because as soon as the going got tough, as soon as the confrontation was to take place, I split. In short, as soon as my beloved stopped kissing my ass and hanging lovingly on my every word I saw no reason to be in the so-called relationship.

Ah, how different a real relationship is, one where love’s involved, where forever is the goal, hell, forever is only way because being apart for a day is painful, a week unthinkable.

Love is maddening. When you’re not accustomed to conflict, a turned back becomes a storybook of hate and a sentence of criticism elevates to mean brutality in mere seconds. A raised voice sounds like a screaming maniac, and dark eyes turn black and spell trouble and hatred.

It’s all about fear and insecurity, “Of course, this is it, it’s over, he doesn’t love me anymore. (And nor I him, how dare he challenge anything I say, not worship the ground I walk on?)

But love, my god. Love. Words fail, really. It’s enchanting and beautiful, the most comfortable place I’ve ever slept, where I take on his dreams and taste pumpkin pie. The rain sounds like a round of applause, and the wind recites poetry…words fail.

The conflicts, the spats, I hate it. He doesn’t agree with everything I say, doesn’t hang lovingly on my words all the time or kiss my toes in worship. He listens and challenges me and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, scream or whisper.

So many emotions to deal with in this relationship thing. Now I understand the cat ladies and loners. I do.

But only to a point. Because I’m not one to be alone, I’m a lover of love, a believer in relationships and Dharma & Greg.

But all this … stuff. And with jobs, kids and everyday life to screw things up.

He once said it’s ours to fuck up. And I suppose it is. That’s why if he’d just learn to worship the ground I walk on, and ya know, hang on my every word in loving agreement, we’d be all be set.

But I suppose that wouldn’t be love, would it?