Warren told us that he and his wife get along so incredibly well that they only have about one fight a year. As my husband and I listened to him tell about their last fight (he was very open, by the way), words flying back and forth at each other, until he said those words that a spouse just falls apart when they hear - I don't want to be married anymore - and she didn't respond with "ok, then go." Thank God. He never did say what she said but he told us it "broke her." I'm sure it did. It probably broke her heart and rendered her brain practically scrambled.
When he got through all of that, Aaron and I just looked at each other. Aaron and I don't fight often, either. I'm not talking about getting a bit snippy with each other, I'm talking fights. Fights that seem rooted in differences in principles and beliefs. Fights that when you are in the middle of it you have to fight against the rage and anger and not say things you can't take back. We've had a few of those although most of them happened at the beginning of our marriage. The last one was late last summer, early fall (even when we had our last big fight caused a bit of debate in our home last night... that gave us a good laugh when we realized it) and it involved, of all things, a bowl of pretzels. Whatever we were fighting about (and neither of us can remember), escalated to the point where I was so sick and tired of yelling at each other that I was ending it. Bowing out. Shutting down is more like it. When I did that, I grabbed the pretzels I'd been snacking on and sat down on the couch. As Aaron continued to talk, I ignored him. That didn't last long because that infuriated him so much you could see the steam coming out of his ears. Next thing I know, that bowl of pretzels has been knocked out of my hands, pretzels are EVERYWHERE in the living room, our lamp is laying shattered on the ground and he's walking out the door. At that point, by the way, I was quite happy to see him go. Fortunately, I was even happier to see him come back.