It all started with a kettle. A full one, I should add. Too full, I said, for tea for two. “Think of the wasted energy when you boil all that water! Is this what happens when you make the morning tea?” Breakfast was ruined. My beloved told me that I was a green bully. Worse than that, he tried to blame the row on what he infuriatingly called “my controlling tendencies”.

To prove my point, I demonstrated how seven cups of tea could be made with the water he had boiled (perhaps this was overdoing it). He said if I cared so much why didn’t I run off with Swampy. Anyway, it escalated, as these things do, and before we knew it, we were in the grip of a fully fledged domestic. Except that this one was different. Like everything else, it had gone green.

Looking back, I recognise it as our first eco-argument. Instead of traditional rowing subjects that have rattled couples for generations — who does the washing-up and why the shared bank account is overdrawn — we had slipped into new territory. Our raised voices belted out words such as Fairtrade, food miles and flight restrictions. Accusations of carbon criminality were hurled, along with other less articulate insults. That was six months ago, when I had renewed my efforts to implement the changes that I write about in the Eco-Worrier column.

These days, our pea-green domestic disruptions come thick and fast. There was the time I nipped back to the flat we share in North London for my packed lunch. Lo and behold, my planet-trashing other half (otherwise known as Gervase) was in the bedroom with the electric blow heater on full blast and the window wide open. What better way to abuse electricity. If I hadn’t had to rush off to work, it could have turned nasty. Switching lights off is another well-trodden battlefield. Five minutes is the amount of time you need to be out of the bedroom to make it worth switching off the light, I say, quoting the Energy Saving Trust. “But I was about to go back upstairs,” he mumbles, slumped in front of 24.

I realise that your sympathies may be with Gervase. You’re probably already painting a picture of me as a holier-than-thou eco-vangelist. Indeed, I began to wonder myself, as I punched the TV standby button off for the umpteenth time, if I am the only one saving the planet at the expense of my relationship. Will I end up a lonely old biddy hanging out used teabags? A post on the Eco-Worrier blog, asking others to air their eco-arguments, reassures me.

Tracy Stokes, a 35-year-old fellow green blogger, who set up www.ecostreet.com, reels off her complaints. “Why does he take so long in the shower? Why won’t he press the eco-button to save water while he’s in there? And why does he have to drive over the speed limit on the motorway, creating more carbon dioxide emissions than necessary?” she writes.

The subject of heating is what sparks off Anna Robinson, 34. “I prefer a cold bedroom and to turn off the heating when we’re out,” she says. “He likes a tropical environment and maintains that my method is more wasteful because the heating has to work harder when it comes on.”

Meanwhile, a friend who recently installed a wormery (against the wishes of her boyfriend) confides: “It has come between us. He won’t go near the thing, talk about it or acknowledge the existence of 2,000 worms in our backyard.” Worse than that, she worries that he’s looking for a way to pay her back by doing something that she hates. I tell her to stay firm and repeat the mantra: “Love me, love my worms.” When I set up my own bin a year ago, I set the important ground rule that Gervase would have to, at least, feign enthusiasm for my pet wrigglies.

All this wrangling is quite normal, according to Penny Mansfield, the director of One Plus One Marriage and Partnership Research. “Like where to send your children to school, whether to go to church or your political alignment, environmental conduct has become a subject which reflects core values,” she says.

“It’s understandable that you want them to be shared by your partner. The rows become about who you are and how you see the world.” When you consider the sparks that fly when the terrible trio of politics, religion and private education are dissected around the kitchen table, it is little wonder that we’re getting rattled about going green, often referred to as a 21st-century religion. “This is sharpened when you have children,” Mansfield adds. “You have to decide on a family policy on the environment; it’s no longer possible to skirt the subjects that you know you don’t agree on.”

But don’t think that all eco-arguments are about principle, she warns. “Think about whether this is something you really care about or whether it’s just an excuse to let off steam. Most rows are based on the same old tensions about who does what in the home.” In other words, we are inclined to dress them in green clothing: to kid ourselves that a spat over who takes out the recycling is about lofty principles, not domestic drudgery.

The moral dimension to an eco-argument is one of its most maddening features. When Al Holland, 29, comments on the blog that he argues with his girlfriend about their holiday plans, he admits that he enjoys it when she asks if they can fly to Greece. “It’s an opportunity to restate all the evils of air travel,” he writes, smugly. Virtue is certainly on the side of the green. If all else fails, there is a secret weapon. Guilt. Arms can be folded, long faces pulled and the words “Think of our grandchildren” delivered emotionally.

I had been hoping that this breed of row would evolve as the prerogative of the fairer sex. Instead blog feedback indicates that men are just as likely to be wound up by noncommittal partners. The work of the eco-auditor Donnachadh McCarthy, who visits people’s homes to give advice on how to minimise their carbon footprint, backs this up. “One half of a couple is usually more enthusiastic and committed to change than another,” he says. “But I’ve seen as many men obsessed by the small steps that make a house environmentally friendly as women.” That said, the areas we leap to defend are likely to be gender-specific.

An Npower survey conducted last year, in association with a Leicester University psychologist, found that food-related activities such as reusing carrier bags, turning off appliances and buying eco-friendly products fell to women. Men were more concerned with the bigger picture; the battle to reduce energy or to set up DIY energy generation.

According to Anne Campbell, an evolutionary psychologist, the development of gender roles over thousands of years explains this. “On a biological and psychological level, there are differences between the sexes that can be traced back to our hunter-gatherer origins,” she says. “It is to be expected that environmental information is processed and manifest in different ways, even though men and women have been equally exposed to it. Women would be likely to keep it within their role in the home, while men might let it influence things outside of it, such as their choice of car.” Staunch confirmation of gender stereotypes this may be, but it also suggests that the division of green chores, as much as unequal commitment to the planet, is causing conflict. Especially if going green gives your other half an excuse to buy new wheels every month.

McCarthy believes it is also a problem when one half of a couple switches into change mode, wanting to shake up their life, while the other hopes that things will stay the same. “The solution is always to look for compromise,” he says. “If one person is aghast at the thought of collecting kitchen scraps for compost, I’ll suggest keeping them in a bucket outside the kitchen.”

Mansfield’s advice on resolving differences is to wait until you’ve cooled off before you address them. “Don’t speak to your partner during a flare-up,” she says. “If it’s something that is important to you, allow your thoughts to settle for a day and then talk about it. Explain why it matters to you.” Sounds sensible, but what if your attitudes cannot be harmonised?

In my case, I suspect that I’ve taken the challenging path of falling for someone who doesn’t always echo my world view. Will we reach stale-mate? “As long as your partner respects your values, he doesn’t have to share them,” says Mansfield. “Many people would die of boredom if their views were never questioned in a relationship. As long as it doesn’t involve constant opposition, difference is a good thing.”

Come to think of it, I’m perfectly happy that I’ve claimed being green as my patch. I wouldn’t take kindly to competition. One eco-worrier per household is probably enough.

Mr Eco-Worrier’s strategy

GERVASE DE WILDE, Anna’s partner, draws up a checklist for a quiet life

First, a warning: there is no way back. People do not become less green, and a passing interest in environmental issues in your partner will not fade. Even if they don’t write a column in a newspaper about their eco-worries, you might still find that their awareness turns to full-blown obsession. This can touch on every aspect of your life, from where you do your shopping and how you carry it home to whether it’s OK to take holidays any farther from London than West Wales. Once I got used to this brave new green world, it was time to work out ways of living in it.

Learn the terminology, the trick to seeming like you’re getting with the eco-programme. Become fluent in the language of Fairtrade and carbon footprints. Otherwise you’re destined to lose your foothold on the moral high ground and find yourself floundering in arguments about overfilling the kettle or buying ingredients for dinner that are covered in wasteful packaging.

Cultivate opinions on carbon offsetting and the value of composting worm bins, or face arguments that end in unfavourable comparisons with your greener half and their more sustainable way of life.

Make some eco-jobs your own. Learn to agree, gracefully, to turn off lights, music and computers, while keeping less green habits quiet (hide the Sainsbury’s bags as soon as you get back from the shops). Undertake the manly task of carrying a heavy box of recycling outside and the eco-credits accumulated may well come in handy when you’re making your case for a short break in Marrakesh.

And when it all gets too much, remember that even a solitary trip to the pub, where your drinking vessel, is washed up and used again (in what I now know is an impressive demonstration of sustainable practices), can have its eco-friendly side.

Times recommends

• Jamie Oliver's boiling over
• Family homes for the 21st century
• What makes men commit?