You may or may not know that I'm extremely insecure. Underneath the erotica-writing, legislation-reading, public-speaking exterior, I'm still the sniveling little girl on the playground running around asking, "Why don't you like me?" Which is why, every time I get into a "discussion" (code for argument) with my husband, we have this extraordinarily awkward period afterward where I have no idea whatsoever how to approach him.
I have this completely irrational fear that he'll stop liking me, stop loving me, wonder why on earth he married me in the first place. If I were to play armchair psychologist, I'd say it's because my dad ran off with his secretary when I was 2 and I'm terrified that my husband will leave me similarly. Perhaps that's it. But that doesn't matter.
He's never given me any indication that he'd do such a thing. I have absolutely no reason to think that he might. But that sniveling little coward in me still takes every single argument we have as a commentary on the strength of our relationship. It takes a lot of thinking to realize that the fact that we're still together, even after all those stupid little fights that come out of nowhere, is a better testament to our marriage than the fact that we have those arguments at all.
