Smartmom was pretty sure that Hepcat had read the article in Tuesday’s Science Times. He always makes a point of reading that section cover to cover.
The fact that he called on his way home to see if he should grab anything from Met Food was another clue. It had been months of too much work (and too much neglect of Smartmom, if you ask Smartmom) since he’d thought to ask if she needed something from Seventh Avenue.
And when he came home with six bottles of Yuengling Black and Tan and two cans of garbanzo beans, she knew for sure.
“Hellooooo,” he cooed sweetly as he came in the door.
That settled it. Hepcat may be irresistible, but he is rarely so effusive when he comes home. He was scared. That was all there was to it. He’d read the article about the health benefits of expressive fighting and he wasn’t going to do anything that might cause an expressive — and healthy — fight.
Smartmom decided to just come out and ask him if he’d read the article.
“Which article?” Hepcat answered. Smartmom smarted. He knew perfectly well which article she was talking about.
“The one that said it’s healthy to have fights,” she told him.
“Ha. Only you would construe that article to mean that it’s healthy to have fights,”
“So I guess you read it,” she said.
Gotcha.
“Yeah, I read it,” he said quietly.
“Listen to this,” Smartmom gleefully opened the newspaper. “‘When you’re suppressing communication and feelings during conflict with your husband, it’s doing something very negative to your physiology. … This doesn’t mean women should start throwing plates at their husbands, but there needs to be a safe environment where both spouses can equally communicate.’”
“See? Expressing yourself during a fight is good for your health,” Smartmom squealed.
“I don’t think that’s what the study is saying,” he told her. Before she knew it, they were having an argument about the article about marital arguments.
Typical. Hepcat and Smartmom have been fighting for 20 years. She can remember where they’ve had fights the way some people remember where they kissed when they were dating.
Stromboli Pizza: that’s where they had the fight about Hepcat being an hour late for their second date.
The Sleepy’s Store just above Spring Street: that’s where they had the fight about whether they should get a full- or a queen-size mattress.
In front of Citarella on Broadway: that was the fight about whether they should serve poached salmon or trout at Teen Spirit’s baby shower.
They’ve fought in the Volvo, in a sleeper train enroute to Florence, on Seventh Avenue, in the Third Street Playground, in front of their kids, in front of their relatives, in front of PS 321, at the Pavilion after seeing “The Squid and the Whale,” at Patois on Smith Street and at their friends’ wedding at the Montauk Club.
They’ve had so many fights over the years that they all just sort of blend together. Sometimes it seems like what they’re really fighting about is how to fight.
Smartmom comes from the Jewish, high-volume, high-voltage, go-for-the jugular school of fighting. Say what you feel and apologize later.
Hepcat hates conflict almost as much as alternate-side-of-the-street-parking and will do almost anything to avoid it, including parking himself on the other side of the apartment when Smartmom wants to have one of her little talks.
To meet him half-way, Smartmom has adopted a more WASPy, repressive style of fighting. There’s less vitriol and more teeth-grinding. She has, in fact, learned to suck in her feelings. But she has increasingly felt that this is not a healthy situation. In fact, if the study in the newspaper is correct, this repression is killing her (and necessitating expensive root canals).
“‘In men, keeping quiet during a fight didn’t have any measurable effect on health,’” Smartmom continued from the article. “ ‘But women who didn’t speak their minds in those fights were four times as likely to die during the 10-year study period as women who always told their husbands how they felt,’ ” according to the July report in Psychosomatic Medicine.
“I feel vindicated,” Smartmom told him. “How did you feel?”
“Left out. When we fight, I can feel the negative hormones coursing through my veins attacking all of my delicate organs. Repression makes me sick, too.”
This stopped Smartmom in her tracks. He was actually admitting that his tendency to suppress his feelings wasn’t good for him — or the marriage. Progress.
“Maybe men put up with so much stuff that the extra step of putting up with their wives doesn’t make that big a difference,” he said.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” Smartmom said and they were off and fighting again.
According to the study, the way a couple fights was a “powerful predictor of a man or woman’s risk for underlying heart disease. Strangely, it’s more of a predictor than smoking or high cholesterol.
“So this is good. You don’t have to be so terrified of fighting anymore,” Smartmom said expressively. She told Hepcat to think of it like jogging in Prospect Park or going for a ride on his expensive Bianchi bicycle that he rarely uses anymore.
“This argument could save your life,” she screamed with just the barest hint of victory.
