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Doug Loves Sarah, Week 12 of 52

The Philosophical Ones

I have heard, many times, that money is the surest death toll to a marriage. Well, not money, that root of evil, but the argument over money. If any one incompatibility is to ensnare loving hearts in its blackness of character, it is the fight over how much one should spend on the animals, the house, the clothes or food. I believe this general rule of thumb is owed to the fact that we are blind to how much the other works, how hard, and see greatly our own toils, so that any expenditure seems to rip the very skin from our back and mock it while, at the same time, barely dints the other's soul.

In other words, we lose the loves of our lives over money because we are stupid, selfish tits.

For me, the worst sort of argument is the philosophical one. All fights over practical matters can be won, more or less, but honest appeals to a plan of action. Not enough to buy that lovely dress, then this much put back for this long and it will work out. You do not want me to go out tonight and do this, well then you and I can compromise by this or that.

I talk about this in simple terms because Sarah and I largely do not fight on bigger ones. We end fights in under an hour, most times. I almost fear having kids because deep down I know that the coming of our spawn into this world wi11 herald something upon which real arguments can be based. Harbingers of me sleeping on the couch.

What we do occasionally get into are those philsophical arguments that have no real plan, and therefore no real solution. I disagree upon some notion she has about the proper way to solidify a class-struggle free heiarchy. What can one do about that? Monus Podens and Quid Pro Qua* means nothing to a angry wife with a taste of Locke upon her breath.

This we call an impasse. A roadblock.

I have no real solution. If you are reading this, hoping for me to say "The best way to get out of a philosophical argument with a loved one is..." then the quotes you just read are the only light in the tunnel for you. The only cure is to not have them, and if you think you can be married AND agree on things then you probably think that cake is meant for both having and eating. Or, if I surmise the attempted but failed meaning of the phrase, for having after you have eaten it.**

No, the only thing you are going to get from me is love one another and hope for the best. Don't be afraid of a few bruised egos. Know you are right, but let her think the same. And kiss her like you did on your first date. Though it seems to appeal to the baser instincts, a little lovemaking never lead anyone astray. Well, I suppose you have that whole "bathing on the roof" and "front line of battle" incident, but that is neither here nor there.

* The Latin is meant to be garbled. I am sleepy.

** Word order counts for a lot in the meaning of something. "My wife has stabbed Tim" and "Tim has stabbed my wife" are genetically twins, but much different things, except in the eye of the Law and the baby Jesus, to whom both all stabbings are wicked.

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