Bob

Batz

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October 22, 2007

Mounting a Comeback in the Argument Standings

I noticed the other day that I’m getting closer to my wife Sally when it comes to winning family arguments.

The last time I checked, she’d won 3,613 squabbles and I’d come out on top in seven.

I know that sounds like I’m getting thrashed big time by the feisty, 85-pound native of Buffalo, N.Y., but my excuse is that I got off to a slow start after we exchanged “I do’s” 44 years ago.

According to my figures – yes, I do keep track of our disagreements – she won the first 766 arguments before I launched my stunning comeback like a Kentucky Derby thoroughbred.

Early on, Sally clobbered me in disputes that involved things like family finances, the naming of our four children and what TV shows we would watch on Tuesday nights.

My initial victory came when we were arguing about the color of a new car we were getting ready to buy.

I wanted a white car.

She wanted a black one.

We ended up buying a white car. Bam! I was off and running. Buoyed by that initial triumph, my confidence soared.

But, alas, as fate would have it, Sally got lucky again and won the next 232 arguments.

Yes, it was frustrating for me. How frustrating? Well, during one of those tiffs – I forget what it was about – I told her, “Oh, yeah, we’ll if you aren’t careful I’ll . . . I’ll . . . I’ll leave this house and run off with a beautiful, dark-haired Flamenco dancer and move to New Jersey. So there!”

Two days later when Sally stopped laughing, I said, “I could have done it . . . if I wanted to.”

I’ve tried a variety of strategies over the years to gain an upper hand in these disagreements.

Once, after being soundly whipped by her in a squabble about what to have for dinner on a Thursday night, I dramatically pulled my suitcase from the closet and declared, “I’m outta here!”

Sally, much to my dismay, countered my dramatic threat by packing the suitcase for me.

My best effort since then came on a day we had a little spat while talking to each other on the telephone.

I realized right off the bat that I had the edge in that argument, so I dropped what I was doing and hurried home to clinch my long-awaited victory in person.

As soon as I entered the house, I launched into a polite but determined tirade to let her know that this time I was right and she was wrong.

And, much to my delight, not once during my tirade did she utter a single word.

So, needless to say, I was feeling pretty darned good about my chances of ending my lengthy string of defeats as I strolled nonchalantly into the kitchen to accept Sally’s apologies.

That’s when I found a note on the cupboard that said, “Went shopping. Be back at five. Love, me. P.S. I was right.”

© 2007 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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