Friday, July 26, 2013

Stones, Guns, and Silence

Our marriage philosophy has always been that, if we are in disagreement about something, the person with the stronger preference wins.  You want relish in the potato salad and I don't care?  Relish it is.  You want to send photographs with the Christmas cards and I think sending cards is stupid, but you really love the holiday mail?  Christmas cards with photos it is.  This philosophy of ranking preferences has served us remarkably well so far.

But now there's this thing.  It's a thing that's creeping around our house.  My husband wants to do something I am adamantly opposed to him doing.  He is adamant that he really wants to do it.  We are both incredibly strong in our preferences.  As of right now, I am winning because the non-action is the status quo, but that is, it seems to be, a temporary situation.

I am ideologically, emotionally, and intellectually opposed to what he wants to do.  He thinks I am being "emotional." Every night he finds more articles supporting his position and reads parts of them to me out loud while I'm brushing my teeth or washing the dishes.  I refute his arguments, using my own logic and, yes, emotional appeal.

Just so you don't think I'm out of order here, you should be aware that my position on this action has not changed since we have known each other - his position is the one that is changing.

In the end, it doesn't matter. He will do what he will do and I retreat to a stony silence.  Or he won't do anything and he will retreat to a stony silence.

I want this to have a happy ending, you know. I want this to be about how we compromised and came up with a solution that will make both of us happy.  Only there is no middle ground here. He does it or he doesn't.  No one is going to win and someone is going to be unhappy and think that the other person is selfish and unreasonable.

Life. It's what makes us miserable.


  1. Based on the title of this post, I am going to assume (I assume, shoot me, your husband wants to get a gun and keep it in, you know, your house.

    I, like you, was not only ideologically, emotionally, and intellectually opposed to guns, I was also petrified of guns - convinced that they were animate and had the capacity to move about and fire themselves or, worse, would go off the moment an innocent human hand hovered above them.

    And then I met and moved in with Lex. Lex, who grew up with guns. Lex, former Navy. Lex, gun owner. When I first found out he had (more than one) a gun, I was angry, terrified, appalled. Eventually, in order to keep the peace, I told him, "I understand it is here in our house but I don't want to see it or know where it is. Period."

    And then, during a conversation with Diva, a gun owner and concealed weapon permit carrier, I had an epiphany about guns. I wrote about it on the blog.

    Don't get me wrong. I still don't like them. I still think they suck. I wish that we lived in a world in which guns didn't exist. I wish we lived in a world in which people didn't want to hurt/kill other people.

    But we do.

    And, as long as we do, as long as many of us refuse to subscribe to the love/hug it out philosophy, I would much rather have guns in the hands of people I love and trust implicitly, I would much rather know how to use a gun myself (which I now do), than leave myself and those people I love at the mercy of someone who doesn't have the same moral compass.

    It wasn't easy to resolve myself to it. It still makes me sad. It still scares me. But I also know and, grudgingly, accept the score.

    Guns don't kill people. People kill people. By any means available. No matter what I think or say.

  2. I just don't really understand what a gun in the house protects against. How often do home invasions happen? Yes, they happen, but how likely are they? What are some of the scenarios he's envisioning?

    I just think that guns in the house, in general, make for itchy trigger fingers. Literary trope: Chekhov's smoking gun...introducing a gun into the story means it has to go off at some point. Art imitates life and vice versa.

    I mean, I somewhat understand. And I use the term somewhat loosely.

  3. Oh no. Not polyamory!


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