It was one of those moments that you see in a damn romantic comedy movie, except it definitely wasn't romantic. Under the circumstances that things had been in for nearly my entire visit, I knew that it also probably wouldn't end in comedy, either.

It was about 15 minutes before I'd planned to leave, and I figured that I should go to the bathroom before I left, as I had a long drive home. Tensions had been high during the visit that I'd paid, and although I wasn't looking forward to leaving, I figured that it would give me time to think about the state of the relationship and sort out all of the mixed signals and bent statements that had taken place over the course of the past couple days.

Instead of worrying about the trip, though, I was standing in her bathroom watching the toilet fill up and nearly flow over. It was clogged, there was no doubt, and after looking around frantically for a plunger, I came to the stark realization that she didn't even own one. I washed my hands and splashed some water on my face, knowing I had now had one more possible argument or bad conversation before I left.

At first, I thought maybe I'd just leave without saying anything, and it would be sort of a fitting end to a weekend spent in miscommunication and bad feelings. Our conversation level of old had nearly come to a stop, and several times we'd ended up arguing over little or nothing at all, simply because one of us felt like being stubborn or was trying to feel a little bit better about themselves by winning an argument.

Instead, I walked straight out and told her, hoping that maybe by chance it would turn into a funny situation that we could both share a laugh about before I got on the road and left again.

It didn't, though, and it became yet another small situation that turned into a flashpoint between us. She was upset because her toilet was clogged, then I got upset because she got so upset over such a trivial incident. As happens, she got even more upset with me being upset with her, and things again spiraled downward from there (pun intended).

Eventually, we somehow came to the agreement that I'd just go out and buy one, then come back and fix it before I left. We left the apartment together and walked to the corner market, three or four steps apart. It was just the distance we'd been apart nearly all weekend, in conversation, and I wondered why I found myself so damn upset over such a trivial incident.

I walked into the corner market and made the purchase. My temper nearly came to a head when the clerk made a smart remark about the purchase, but my glare must have been enough, as they quickly dropped their joking attitude and looked the other way.

Walking the couple blocks back to the apartment, words were again exchanged, but I had a hard time saying much of anything. I could tell that things were getting closer to a resolution, but I couldn't let it drop for some reason. I just couldn't believe that someone could get so upset over a trivial incident with such a simple solution, and I couldn't shake my mood.

Soon after arriving back, I had the toilet working just fine, but then it was time for me to leave. Instead of cuddling and hoping to reconcile somewhat after the weekend like I hoped we would, we'd instead spent the last 15 minutes of my visit arguing just as we had in the days previous.

We said our goodbyes and told each other than things were normal, but I knew that they weren't, and hadn't been for a long time. About an hour into my trip back home, I started laughing about just how ludicrous the whole situation had been and just how out-of-control it had gotten. It wasn't that I thought it was something funny or that I knew things were going to be OK, though. I was emotionally spent after the weekend and didn't even feel like crying because it would take too much energy. So I laughed, knowing that things between us were over.

back