It's like yelling at a puppy who has pissed on your rug.  He tried to mark his turf and now I just wanted to beat him with a newspaper.  But his teary big brown eyes made it near impossible to scold him, to say everything I planned on saying.  I pushed his hand anyway everytime he reached for mine, determined to make my point.  The jealousy had to stop, it was pointless and frustrating.  By the second hour, it was easy to yell, it was even easier to extend the boundaries of our fight and add in extra annoyances just for good measure.

And by the end, I could tell he was defeated, he begged for another chance, pleaded for more time, I had battered him with words he had trouble understanding and bashed his attitude enough.  We rode the tube together, finally agreeing to have dinner with him.  I made him suffer through half of the meal before I gave in, I no longer wanted to fight, I wanted to kiss and have make up sex.  Even though I decided how the night would end, I made him work for every inch.  As we laid in bed, I debated how long I would make him suffer...,.

The question is still up for debate.....