If you're probing, you're going to get probed

Bea and I had our first fight. Now, I might be willing to take the blame for starting the fight, but only if she concedes that she was making no sense at first, and that eventually I won. That victory came at a heavy price. But, here is the result of that fight:

1. One of us is being a douche. (Its me.)

2. Bea has lost all respect for my personal integrity.

3. You can't reasonably break up with someone for hitting you, if you didn't inform them previously that physical violence is a deal breaker. 
And, finally

4. Things only matter if they matter.

Now, I'm a little hazy on how we came to these conclusions, because I am entirely convinced that I am right all of the time, and everything I think about everything is a fundamental truth of the universe that can only be expressed as semantically null tautologies, i.e. "rules don't count, because they don't count!". Because of this, I am very rarely drawn into discussion or arguments, and rapidly become exhausted at so staunchly sticking to my irrational guns that usually I just shrug and say, "Maybe you're right!" This seems to sate most people enough to give them a sense of victory and let me drop the conversation. Bea probably does the same thing, and would know that's what I was doing. You can't use your robot defenses against your robot buddy, turns out.

Regardless of how we got here, the whole thing started because I asked a question. In light of my complete inability to relate to anyone on a meaningful emotional level, I have come up with a set of questions that I think give me a way to understand how people think and feel.

The particular question this time around was: "Is Bruce Wayne cheating on Selena Kyle, when he makes out with Catwoman as Batman?" Its not as though I am looking for an one particular answer, but how you answer is really revealing of your world view. I especially recommend asking it on first dates.

Bea came back with a solid "No." Now, I am not sure what happened next. But the long and the short of it, according to Bea is this: the sort of person you are is determined by whether or not you shuffle the deck completely once you run out of moves in solitaire. The natural extension of this is that because I rearrange cards when I come to the end of a game, rather than completely restarting, I derive a false sense of accomplishment, lie to myself, and am something of a tramp.

Trampiness aside, my counter point is simple: Who the hell derives a sense of a accomplishment from a game of solitaire??

I find it interesting that this whole topic dissolved to the conclusion that how you feel about something matters. And by "how you feel" I mean how we feel is what matters. Turns out, the only opinions we care about are our own. So, yes, I might be cheating at solitaire, and I absolutely refuse to be judged for it. I made a deal with myself long ago with the understanding that whether or not I've dealt myself a solvable hand of solitaire, my value as a person will remain the same. Bea apparently did not make this deal.

Either way, Bea and I came to a mutual understanding our thoughts and feelings (i.e. that they ultimately don't matter all that much), and I think we've come to a better sense of what our relationship means, and how we can move forward in our old timey love affair.  And in a certain sense, doesn't that mean we both win?

But in another, more accurate sense, I won.