Aaron and I got in a big fight on Monday night. Because he didn't make me a sandwich. There, I said it. It was one of those hilariously awful things -- I knew the whole time that I was upset that I didn't get to eat before I went to work, he knew that I was furious because he didn't take 5 minutes to make me a sandwich, and it just blew up into this big old thing and I didn't talk to him (or eat) for 36 hours. That's the longest any of our fights have ever lasted. Eventually we talked it out -- well, he talked, I yelled and threw pillows and pouted.
I could get into the whole ins and outs of our individual arguments, but the whole point in even mentioning this one here is when he told me that I need to stop getting pissed off about the little things so much (true, but easier said than done) and how he isn't allowed to get pissed off about things because then I overreact more than usual, and I said, "Aaron! You can! You can get pissed off! Tell me, tell me what I do that annoys you, and I won't try to defend it or anything." And he said, simply, like slicing through butter on a warm day: "I love you too much to get angry at you."
GOD. The NERVE of that man. And it's true! He never gets pissed off at me! He never starts arguments -- if he has a problem, he'll rationally discuss it with me, whereas I'll ignore it for a few weeks and then explode at the drop of a hat (or the unmaking of a sandwich). I don't know how he came up with it, but he managed to make me feel incredibly guilty and warm and fuzzy in one fell swoop. Argument over. Well played, sir. Well played.