Casey and I have fought about some pretty stupid things, but our fight about bowling will probably go down as the dumbest marital fight in history. It’s even a notch below the time I forced us to sit at separate tables at a restaurant so we could both get free meals using sneaky coupons.
Sure, it was a fight about bowling, but there was quite a bit more to it than just throwing the balls down the lane. Casey took the first four or five years of our marriage trying to get me to be more social. She didn’t understand how much I hate being plopped down in a social situation and expected to thrive. It’s just not who I am and I feel pretty uncomfortable when those situations arise. She had never been around someone else like me before and she couldn’t comprehend why I had such a problem with it.
Casey, on the other hand, is the most social person I’ve ever met. She can go into a room of people and end up being friends with all of them. She’s so good at meeting new people and making new friends. But when you put me and Casey in a room full of people, I gravitate to the walls or the corners and I do all I can to stay out of the crowd and it forced Casey to do the same. It made making friends as a married couple pretty difficult.
We had made a few friends here and there, but there weren’t many and they weren’t what we’d consider to be every day friends. They were occasional friends when it was convenient for both couples.
Casey wanted us to make more friends and not just the occasional types of friends. She wanted friends we could hang out with regularly and who we could talk to on a regular basis or just call up on the spur of the moment to go do things. Whenever the opportunity arose to hang out with new couples, Casey always jumped at the chance.
We were invited at the spur of the moment to go with a group of couples to a bowling Alley. Addie was only a few months old at the time and Casey was dealing with some pretty serious postpartum pregnancy depression. I was me—meaning I didn’t want anything to do with the group of people and I didn’t understand the seriousness of postpartum depression.
We went to the bowling alley with the group of couples and we began bowling. I had never bowled with Casey before and Casey had never been around me when I was playing a sport (and yes, I’m using the word playing very loosely when discussing bowling). I’m super competitive with sports and Casey’s the complete opposite. Throw my competitiveness and my social awkwardness together and it was a recipe for a huge fight.
As Casey dinked around as we bowled just trying to make some new friends, I started to give her a few pointers on how to improve her game (I’ve had a college bowling class—not kidding—but I’m probably the last person who should be giving out pointers when it comes to bowling). Casey blew off my pointers and continued to dink around. Her blowing off what I was telling her frustrated me. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to get better. Casey couldn’t understand why I couldn’t just relax and work on making friends.
I asked her why she wouldn’t take it more serious and why she didn’t want to improve at whatever she does in life. Yeah, I took her nonchalant approach at bowling that serious, and that began one of the dumbest fights in the history of marriage. I think it ended with me grring in frustration and Casey crying with sadness, and we never did make married couple friends from the whole experience.
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