Battle of the (Drunken) Sexes
(Side Note: I'm placing my bets now, and I give this Peter Brady/Midwestern attention-whore marriage exactly one year and six months. Quote me on it.)
During all of the alcohol- and bubble-bath-soaked drama, and after watching Christopher Knight and Curry fight and bicker and misunderstand each other and yell their way through at least 47,983 drinks, I had an honest-to-God epiphany about male/female relations and intoxication. Follow:
Mystical Revelation 1: When drinking, men's and women's sensitivity levels go in completely opposite directions. Men become unaware of their surroundings and their actions. Women become hyperaware of their surroundings and their actions.
Mystical Revelation 2: When drinking, a man can tell his beloved to go to hell if they have a fight. He can walk out on an earnest conversation. He can get rip-roarin', red-faced mad. But, at the end of the night, his memory of doing any of this is wiped clean. Oblivious to any emotional outpouring from his lady, he expects a hug and a kiss at the end of the night no matter what. If he reaches his DQ (Drama Quotient) for the night and separates from her abruptly and without explanation to sleep alone in peace (quite soundly, I might add, because of said drinking), he will not think to apologize for the previous night until about 2 p.m. the next day. Before it occurs to him to call the lady he has insulted, he will want to sleep late and possibly eat a plate of eggs before considering picking up the phone and telling his lady he's sorry.
Mystical Revelation 3: When drinking, a woman becomes a lightning rod for any kind of insult (real or perceived) that is flung her way. Don't whisper near a woman, don't touch a woman if she's not yours, and don't even look at a woman wrong, because she's going to hear it/feel it/see it, and her hellfire will subsequently rain upon you. She will remember each and ever insult her man says to her face, and she will not only retell the tale all night to her girlfriends and sit up until the wee hours of the morning worrying about it, she will probably also remember it 17 years later. (Men, you've been warned.) In all likelihood, the woman will be the one to pick up the phone the next day and say something like, "Pookie, did you get home okay? Let's never fight again. 'Kay?"
The real takeaway? From personal experience, it's much easier to achieve emotional (um, and physical) closeness in a committed relationship when Jack, Johnnie, and Jimmy aren't standing in the middle. Not that there's anything wrong with a tossing a couple back every now and again.