My partner and I went on our first trip together and it caused a big fight. I feared it was the end of our relationship.

15.09.2024 - 11:54 / insider.com

If I'm being honest, I would consider myself a bit of a scaredy-cat. I fear hanging my foot over the side of the bed, drinking water too quickly only for it to end up in my lungs, and, more notably, a fear of commitment.

I found myself bowing out of relationships when disagreements began to mount. I hadn't cracked the code on what to do when there were rough patches with a partner. To me, a successful relationship means no hiccups whatsoever.

But all that changed when I planned and went on my first vacation with my partner to Europe.

Our trip took place across Paris, Marseilles, Madrid, and Seville. I had never been to Europe and wanted to fulfill my "The Lizzie McGuire Movie" and "The Cheetah Girls 2" fantasy. Turns out that bringing that dream to fruition requires an itinerary — even though I don't remember my girl Lizzie spending hours on Tripadvisor.

While my research consisted of watching TikToks, my partner was inadvertently delegated the role of a travel agent. Imbalance bubbled beneath the surface like a dormant volcano.

The trip started off smoothly. I thought that speaking Spanish fluently would lend itself to speaking and understanding French. It doesn't. My boyfriend dared me to order a pack of cigarettes by myself. I could only muster a single "bonjour" before I crumbled and leaned on him for support. Little did I know this would become a recurring theme.

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One night, we sat on a hill in the Parc de Buttes Chaumont. As he tried to pull my European wish list out of me, he got teary-eyed out of frustration. He wanted to go to museums; I groaned. He wanted to walk around; I groaned even louder. I didn't share what I wanted to do. It's not that I didn't know. I was just petrified. What if he didn't like my ideas? What if he thought all my suggestions were a waste of time? It was a lot easier to complain.

He said that it felt like I didn't want to be there. That broke me. Of course, I wanted to be there, but I had no clue how to say or show it. Disagreements felt like dealbreakers, so I apologized and committed to having a better attitude. Easier said than done.

After a few mishaps in Marseilles, we headed to Madrid. The city is magical, and I'm officially naming my first child Tapas.

On our penultimate night, we went to a concert in a venue that was Berghain meets artisanal coffee shop. We had no idea what to do afterward. My boyfriend wanted to go explore the city. I wanted to go to a sex club. Like clockwork, he explained his desires; I groaned. The better attitude I had promised flew out the window.

The volcano erupted, and it felt like two sticks of dynamite detonating simultaneously. A sick and twisted part of me loved our explosive argument.

"Finally," I told myself.