I had to think about this a long time. I live alone, but I'm assuming arguing with myself doesn't count. If it does then my last argument was 10 minutes ago when I tried to whine my way out of writing this.
A real life face-to-face argument? That's another story.
I don't like to argue. I enjoy a lively discussion with passion and sometimes elevated voices, but not that chin out heels dug in kinda event. An argument to me is not generally about deciding a compromise that works for both parties. It's a socially acceptable way to beat up on somone who hurt your feelings or who has the gall to disagree with you. It is often about ego. I might go so far as to say it's always about ego and nothing more. That insane need to be right, perfect, and come out on top.
I don't not like it because I suck at it. Quite the contrary. Growing up I was continuously counseled into law because of my mad arguing skills. My favorite target back then was my younger brother Phil whom I filleted with my words until he cried. When you are abused, you often look for someone younger, smaller and weaker to act out your feelings. I am glad we overcame that hate. Because against all odds that's exactly what we did. Especially since I count him among my best friends. I am so sorry that I was such a fucktard.
I try not to argue. I try to figure it out way before it comes to hard words. Sometimes I fail. Sometimes dramatically. I have spent the last ten years teaching myself to recognize when a discussion jumps the shark to an argument. Certain feelings in my body. A clenched feeling in my heart, in my stomach. A complete loss of active listening - instead I use whatever time someone is talking to form my rebuttal to their assinine nonsense....er....point of view. Elevated heart rate. Clenched teeth. Balled hands that twitch with a desire to deliver the two of a one two punch on the heels of a lengthy tongue lashing. In that moment, I take a deep breath and excuse myself. I find someplace quiet and alone where I can just close my eyes and breathe until those sensations go away. When I am calm again, I kinda rewind and replay the movie of the discussion cum argument trying to idnetify the moment when my shit got activated, the moment when I stopped listening and started defending, the moment I stopped being in the place of love and enetered the house of smackdown. Generally I can identify it. Then it's up to me to do something with that info. Usually go back to my fellow UFC debator and explain what happened from my end. It's great if I can hear something similar, if not, I have done all I can do. The argument is dead to me.
So, when was the last argument? Probably way back in March while I was in Portland with Duz. I was tired. I was cold. I was wet. And I desparately needed to stay put for the day. Thing is I didn't KNOW that's how I felt until much later. After the argument. I was a BITCH! Snippy, short, cold, vile. But Duz handled it well and it blew over in no time.
The most successful person to consisitently punch the launch sequence is the maternal unit. But then she installed it, so what can you expect. Still working on disabling that one. Let's see do I cut the red wire.....or the blue?
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