If you're gonna start some shit, you better have a plan and a reason.

I'm 30. Have I mentioned that yet? I'm not the most mature of 30-year-olds, but I have changed decades thrice now, and you'd think I have some sense in my skull...somewhere. Sometimes? Not so.

I embarked on what I like to call the "most unwise pursuit of knowledge in megan's glorious career" last night with P. Poor man. I'd been feeling wonky and out of sorts for a few weeks now (thank you, hormones and ginormous glob of gelatinous post-partum GOO stuck to my stomach and creating the strangest shape my jeans have ever experienced. You m-fers...), and him being the closest life form with a pulse and the ability to speak whole sentences in range, well, he seems to absorb all the collatoral damage. And the blame. And my insecurities and wild imaginings.

I was convinced that an inkling I'd been feeling was very, very legitimate and that he was the cause of it, somehow. Despite him being a very level, grounded and wonderful human being,in my mind (a nonsensical place I like to call "Megan-land") he'd managed to make me feel isolated and out in the row boat of life (and our relationship) all by myself. (Stay with me. By the time this drama I had been creating came to fruition, I think I was ready to blame him for the original sin, global warming, and the blister I had on the back of my ankle.)

Cue "the" conversation.

Thinking things out using logic and having clearly defined goals aren't exactly my strongest assets. (Yeah. Put those two right up there with keeping my purse organized and putting away my laundry in a timely fashion.)

I steered us down the "why are you so mean to me?" road (paraphrasing and summarzing, obvi) and when we finally arrived at the crux of what I thought the matter was, he did the damndest thing. He wanted to know more about what was causing this "issue" and what it was that I wanted, so he could fix the problem. (WTF?)

Well, damn, Mr. Helpy-helperton. I hadn't thought that far ahead, thankyouverymuch.

I sit in sort of amazement/stupor even now with how precisely unprepared I was to have a conversation of that magnitude. Granted, my previous relationships were with absolute asshats, so logic never entered the equation, nor was it ever required. It was enough to get really angry and dramatic and, honestly, solve nothing, but at least I felt better, right?

Not so with Ol' Man Logic.

Sitting here now, as I write this, I feel petty and absolutely silly that I wanted to pick a fight with him. There's a great line in my favorite Joe Walsh song, Life's Been Good. It goes something like: "I can't complain, but sometimes I still do..." and there was that A-ha moment I must have been looking for with P in the beginning.

Only his logic and rational way of dealing with me turned it all back on me. Was there really an A-ha moment up for grabs, anyway? It's not like we have a tumultous, agonzing relationship and I finally stood up for myself (A-ha!). So missing those combative, explosive elements, what sort of moments do the more subdued, mature relationships have? More of a "Hmmm...Okay" moment? Perhaps it is one of those I had, but not the one I'd originally felt entitled to.

Amazing what you learn when you attempt a moment of importance (in your own mind, anyway) without knowing what you're really looking for. So my lesson learned in this endeavor?

"If you're gonna start some shit, you better have a plan and a reason."

Oh, and P is the awesomest ever. The end.