(My fiancé is a Marine. We are arguing because of a poorly worded statement about the worth of civilians. We both have tempers; his causes him to deny the problem exists, and mine causes me to go cry and go non-verbal at times because I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling through words. His mother is in the room, attempting to mediate.)

Fiancé: “Why am I always the bad guy?”

Me: “I never called you the bad guy! I told you that you said something that could be interpreted as f*****-up. My problem at this point is that you refuse to take ownership of it!”

Fiancé: “There’s nothing to take ownership of! I didn’t say anything wrong!”

Me: “You insinuated that I was worthless because I’m a civilian, and made mistakes. How is that nothing to take ownership of?”

Fiancé: “I didn’t say it about you, so I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m not apologizing because I’m not in the wrong here! Maybe you should learn to listen and ask questions before you jump to stupid conclusions.”

Me: “God, you came back from boot camp and you suddenly think your way of thinking is the only right one!”

Mother-In-Law: “Easy now…”

Fiancé: “Well, maybe I should go to [USMC base in Japan]! I’ll be with military people with the same military mindset as me, and I won’t have to put up with people making me into the bad guy for nothing! How’s that work for you?”

Mother-In-Law: “Oh, god! Don’t be silly!”

(My temper flares, because he has brought up something he knows will hurt me; him going overseas and leaving me behind.)

Me: “You… I…”

Mother-In-Law: “Honey…”

(I grunt in exasperation and stomp my foot.)

Mother-In-Law: “Use your words, honey.”

Me: “Go fu—”

Mother-In-Law: “Not that one!”

Me: “You… hurt… me. I spent years trying not to feel worthless, and what you said to me made me feel worthless.”

Mother-In-Law: “Keep going…”

Me: “What you said hurt, and you don’t care because you’d rather be right than sorry. It doesn’t matter if it was an accident; it still hurt. Why doesn’t that matter to you?”

(I burst into tears. My fiancé stops and stares at me for a minute, then pulls me into a hug and apologizes over and over. His mom smiles, and starts talking to him.)

Mother-In-Law: “Son, you were in the wrong here, not because your statement had malicious intent, but because you refused to acknowledge that you hurt her. You felt that her complaint wasn’t valid because you didn’t see a problem with your statement, and you didn’t want to be wrong and admit you’d hurt her. You need to understand that your reality isn’t the only one; different people experience things differently. You two are talking about spending forever together, but forever’s a long time to spend with someone who can’t see the other side of a story. You need to take accountability when you hurt one another, even if it’s an accident.”

(We both nod, and his mom pulls out his baby book. We spend the rest of the night cuddled up, laughing at pictures and discussing where the comment went wrong until we both fall asleep. I don’t think I can ever properly thank my mother in law for what she did, because I’m almost certain the relationship would have ended that night had she not brought me down.)

(My wife has a bad kneecap, and has dislocated it several times. She also has a genetic nerve disorder, so she is very practiced at using all sorts of aids, canes, walkers, wheel chairs, and crutches. She’s graduating, and losing her internship, and her coworkers take her out to eat downtown.)

Coworker: “Oh! Here, let me help you get your chair down off the curb!”

Wife: “No, no, no! Watch this! Watch what I can do!”

(She shoos all her coworkers back at least five feet, then rolls her wheelchair backwards up to the edge of the curb. She promptly falls over backwards, slamming the back of her head into the roadway. We take her to the ER.)

Doctor: “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve looked over the x-ray of your head, and I didn’t find anything at all.”

Me: “Can I have that in writing? And a copy of the x-ray?”

(My family and I are sitting down for dinner and my dad hands out forks and spoons to everyone. Admittedly, the spoons he gives us are relatively large.)

Mom: “Honey, this spoon is not appropriate for soup!”

Dad: “How so?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m fine with it.”

Mom: “Maybe you are, but I’d like something that’s appropriate for the size of my mouth, thank you.”

Dad: “Fine.”

(My dad takes my mom’s spoon and leaves the dining room.)

Mom: “Honestly, your father sometimes!”

Me: “It’s just a spoon.”

Mom: “I know, but—”

(Dad comes back and hands Mom a shovel.)

Dad: “Here you go. Is this the right size for your mouth?”

(My sister, brother-in-law, and I are driving home at night.)

Me: “When I walked into your house this morning, the TV caught my eye.”

Brother-In-Law: “What was on?”

Me: “Sesame Street. Cookie Monster wanted to get in to the Cookie Connoisseur Club.”

Brother-In-Law: “Oh, and he wasn’t following the rules; he got kicked out!”

Me: “Yeah. I felt so sad for him. He finally found a place where people understand him, but they wouldn’t let him stay.”

Brother-In-Law: “He couldn’t follow the rules. Rules are important in places like that.”

Me: “I know; it was just sad. He finally found the one place he’d been looking for his whole life, and they couldn’t even accept him.”

Brother-In-Law: “It’s not like the rules were that hard to follow. He wasn’t asked to run a marathon and climb a mountain before eating the cookies. He just had to look, sniff, and taste. If those rules were too hard, then maybe he didn’t belong there.”

Me: “Well, that just makes things even more sad. He thought he found where he belonged; it turned out he didn’t fit in there either.”

Sister: “Do you guys realize that you’re having a serious conversation about Cookie Monster. A puppet on a children’s show?”

Me: “He just wanted to eat cookies with people who understand him! Isn’t that what we all want?”

(My cousin and her husband are having a conversation.)

Cousin’s Husband: “Our new dog has a weird habit.”

Me: “What’s that?”

Cousin’s Husband: “He sits on the second floor of the house on Sundays, and barks and growls at the people leaving the church.”

Cousin: “I taught him well.”