The argument stalemate: that deathly silence that hangs over you both while you quietly, but very angrily, huff and puff your way through your household chores, barely acknowledging each other as you pass in the kitchen.
It’s that no-man’s land of couples’ fights. That space just after a big blowout, and well before any sheepish reconciliation. It’s that thick, charged space where whoever speaks up first has somehow, regardless of what they say, admitted defeat.
In argument stalemate, the fight is never over the original disagreement. The fight is about principle, power and being the last one standing.
I know argument stalemate well. As I write this, I’m in one… and you can bet I’m not about to do anything to get out of it. At least not first. Not before he does. It started simply enough.
Etienne didn’t want to spend his Sunday doing what I wanted to do, and I sure as heck was not going to spend a sunny Sunday inside, wrapped around a glaring computer screen.
Neither of us would change our minds. So a few choice words were shared across the bedroom, a door was slammed and that was that. Argument stalemate. Now I’m downstairs refusing to go upstairs (that would make me the first in the fight to capitulate – I may as well tell him he’s always right, all of the time), and he’s upstairs, refusing to come downstairs (with, I’d bet, pretty much the same thought process going through his head).
So now neither of us are doing what we wanted to do on Sunday afternoon, but that’s become irrelevant. Now Sunday afternoon is about who folds first. The problem with me, as I wait out argument stalemate, is that I sit and stew. My mind goes crazy and I race through every situation, every past argument, every word ever said between us, that could possibly justify me not going upstairs to sort things out.
Past issues that have long been put to bed (or have they?) are rearing their ugly heads, convincing me that this is not about Sunday afternoon plans, but about the principle of standing my ground, for all those times Etienne may have annoyed or irritated me.
I’m not quite sure how justified that principle is either, or whether it’s even worth it. But in my argument stalemate mind frame, it makes perfect sense. And so I clatter around the kitchen, clearing away last night’s dinner as loudly as I can (can he hear that I’m doing all the work? Do you think he at least feels a little guilty? Maybe it’ll make him realise what a terrible human being he is and he’ll throw the towel in and come to me first?), angrily reminding myself that no, I’m not behaving like a petulant child, I’m obviously just trying to make a point.
The problem is that when Etienne is in argument stalemate, he pretty much just switches off. He zones into some mindless state, like watching a mindless TV series or editing his million and one photographs on the computer. (Oh yes, I remember now… he loves his photographs more than me, too. Just another reason to be totally obstinate about not being the first to break this argument stalemate. I told you I was right all along.)
He’s oblivious to the pots and pans being hit out of shape as I fling them angrily around the kitchen. Give him 30 minutes and he’s probably forgotten he’s even in argument stalemate at all, at least until that episode of The Big Bang finishes.
The result? By the time we’re forced to end argument stalemate, I’m re-hurting over about a million arguments we’ve had since we started dating, Etienne doesn’t even know where to start and just wants to cuddle, and the irony remains that neither of us did any of the things we wanted to on Sunday afternoon.
So I’ve decided I’m going to try new tactics, before argument stalemate hits. First up: not walking away in the first place. If you don’t leave the argument hanging, you have to carry on until it’s resolved.
Having said that, sometimes it’s definitely worth walking away from blowouts. I can go from rational human being to screaming banshee in about four seconds. Not the best frame of mind to thrash out your issues.
In that case, I’m going to try and re-Zen my angry self by walking away and listing what I’m annoyed about. 1) Etienne didn’t take the bin out even though I asked him three times. 2) He’s been cleaning his camera lens for about four hours. 3) So obviously, Etienne loves his camera more than he loves me.
Not only does this isolate the issues, but when you write it down like that and re-read it, you quickly realise the rational issues (he didn’t take the bin out, again!) and the bizarrely irrational issues (he obviously loves his camera more than me. Yes, obviously). Bingo – a much easier starting point from which to attempt a recovery.
Failing all of that? Humour. It’s hard to see the funny side when you’re fuming about something, but cracking a joke or trying to laugh is the quickest way to kill tension, and in doing so, argument stalemate.
Even if you aren’t moving from a sheepish giggle into resolving the issues, it’s hard to keep up an angry argument stalemate if you’ve softened the tension with a smile or two. (Just don’t crack jokes about his mother, or your ex. Experience suggests it could lead to the most catastrophic argument stalemate ever.)
Does argument stalemate go away over time in a marriage? I doubt it, mostly because I don’t think arguments ever really go away. But can you figure out how to minimise its impact, not only on your marriage but also on your life? Absolutely. And that’s what I’m going to try from now on.
Which, right now, means I have to suck it up and head upstairs, armed with a good sense of humour and a huge dose of humility. And a reminder that it doesn’t make me weak or in the wrong. It just makes me the one who doesn’t want to waste any more of my Sunday afternoon.
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