First Fight

by Nicholas Allen — September 29, 2007

Patricia and I had what might be termed our first official fight last night. It wasn't so much a fight, actually, as a profoundly uncomfortable moment. And it began, as so many of these things seem to, with a badly timed phone call from an ex-girlfriend.

We were at my place, having dinner and watching an old movie, when the phone rang. The number on the caller ID wasn't one I recognized--and, looking back on it all, if I had only obeyed my impulse not to answer a call from a number I didn't know, none of this would have happened.

But when you don't know who's calling, you also don't know whether or not it might be important. So I answered. The caller was an ex-girlfriend, calling completely out of the blue (unless she had some kind of sixth sense that let her know I was with another woman at the time...I wouldn't put it past her).

This ex and I didn't part on the best of terms, but we aren't exactly what you'd call "enemies" either. So when she called just to chat, I was willing enough to spend ten minutes or so catching up. The fatal error in judgment I made, apparently, was deciding to go into the other room to take the call.

Most of the calls I get at home are from my guy friends, and they're usually brief and innocuous enough that I don't go behind closed doors to have a conversation. So Patricia's curiosity was piqued, naturally, when she saw me leave the room. She asked a few questions when I came back. Unfortunately for me, I was so uncomfortable about the whole thing that I couldn't help but convey an impression of guilt to Patricia--who jumped to the conclusion that maybe I still had feelings for this old flame. If not, why had I bothered to leave the room to take the call?

I'm a guy, so I'm not always good at explaining my exact feelings--and fumbling around for answers only makes things look worse. But if I'd had quick words at my disposal, I would have explained to Patricia that my instinct to leave the room didn't come from a desire to conceal the conversation from her, or even the fact that it was an ex-girlfriend calling. I mean, who cares? That girl was then ("then" being about five years ago), and Patricia is very much now.

I left the room because I had an impulse to screen Patricia from anything that might make her uncomfortable, and I had a sort of vague feeling that her being around my ex--even if it was only in the sense of being in the room while I talked to my ex on the phone--might make her uncomfortable. I know that I was sure as hell uncomfortable!

I guess most of it springs from typical early-relationship insecurities. If Patricia and I had been together for eight years and an ex-girlfriend called, I can't imagine (at least, I hope not) that it would have rattled her cage that much. But, even when you've made the formal commitment not to date other people, it's hard to feel like you're on completely solid ground when you've only been together for about eight weeks.

So I did what I could to ease Patricia's discomfort, and to assure her that my leaving the room in no way meant that I was hiding this ex-girlfriend from her, or that I secretly hoped the two of us might someday get back together.

I thought I did a pretty good job, eventually. Still, the mood when we got into bed last night wasn't as...um...upbeat as it usually is when the two of us head into the bedroom together.