I hate rowing, especially with someone I love. How we've managed to get by for over a year without a row is honestly amazing, considering our personalities ... so I guess it was only to be expected that sooner or later we'd get on each others tits - that's a British expression, in case you were wondering.
It affected me deeply - probably more than I should admit; because I really, really thought that 'it' was all over. And all over paltry petrol money too. Stupid.
It was made worse because we were on our way to see friends - who knew nothing about the problem, so well we behaved in front of them.
When you know someone almost as well as you know yourself, you know all the right buttons to push, all the snidey comments to make to maximise the hurt ... and Lord do we know each other well. Too well maybe.
It's over now, but it's left a bitter taste that's going to take a while to totally dissipate. My rock wobbled, and I reacted badly. So much for predictive plate tectonics.