I have this distinct fighting style.

I absolutely despise that this is the way I fight. I cannot control it. It just is. And it’s basically the worst.

Exhibit A: The Curious Case of the VISA Bill

(Note: This particular fight may or may not have happened in real life. Twice.)

Him: Ali. Look at this VISA bill. I mean, really? Do you have any idea how much money you spent at the Gap this month? And, wait, what is this? $70 on special flour from Ireland. FLOUR?”

Me: Look, I don’t trust any of the bakeries here. Do you really want me dying of anaphylaxis? I mean, $70 on flour seems a really small price to pay for my life. You know, in the grand scheme of things. And the Gap thing. Well, I can’t help it. I get 1,462 daily emails from them offering me 30% off my entire purchase(s). It’s almost like the Gap isn’t giving me a choice in the matter.

Him: Erm. You DO have a choice. Because it’s not free, you know. You do know how discounts work, right? You may be getting 30% off, but someone is paying the other 70%. Wanna guess who pays that 70%?

Me: VISA?

Him: This isn’t funny.

Me: I’m not trying to be funny.

Him: What are you doing?

Me: Oh, I’m giving you my VISA card.

Him: What? Why are you doing that?

Me: Well, obviously, I’m not fit to carry it, right?

Him: Um. No. Actually that’s not what I’m saying. I’m asking you to be a little but more conscious of your online purchases.

Me: But shopping online is so tricky.

Him: Well, tricky or not, you are overspending.

Me: Well, here’s my card. Do you want my Starbucks card too? Maybe my library card? Take my whole wallet. I can’t be trusted.

Him: You are being a crazy person. I didn’t ask you to give me your library card.

Me: Well, there’s no other solution. Obviously I don’t know how to not spend too much money.

Him: All or nothing is not the answer.

Me: I’m done here. I can’t have this conversation. And I’ll probably die from an allergic reaction to Canadian flour now too. I hope you’re happy, and that you remember how to use the epipen.

“put ’em up, put ’em up”

All or nothing. It’s always the answer with me, it seems.

And I’m really big into throwing up my hands as the international symbol for “I give up. I’m done having this conversation because I can’t win it.”

And, you know, there’s the sarcasm layer too.

And I throw a lot of assy FINES in there. “Fine. Fine. Fine. Whatever. Fine.”

What I’m saying is that you probably should never fight with me, because, well, you’ll probably lose…

…your damn mind.