 An article from relationship writers Evan Marc Katz and Linda Holmes, authors of Why You're Still Single
Evan
Everything I’ve learned about conflict resolution, I learned from Kenny Rogers. I remember one night back in 1977: I was lost, hitting the bottle, causing problems at home. Of course, I was five years old, so you could say that I didn’t know better, but Kenny wouldn’t let me off the hook. At that point, he was known mostly for his 1974 hit, Lucille. But as the beer flowed and the clock ticked, and I talked about how I’d been fighting with my old lady, Kenny laid it all out for me as plain as the Texas summer sky.
“You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.”
Translation: If you’re on the losing end of an argument, you better learn to shut the hell up and apologize.
A girlfriend of mine was really stressing about what kind of dress to wear to a friend’s wedding. It was on a Sunday afternoon in August, so black was out, red was too showy, and white was an obvious no-no. She ended up choosing a hot-looking lavender silk number, which made us both very happy . . . until we walked in and saw that she was dressed like all the bridesmaids.
That wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was that I laughed. Mostly because it was funny. Maybe a part of me thought that we could joke our way past this minor inconvenience, especially since there was nothing we could do about it. Uh uh. Not only was my girlfriend traumatized by the wardrobe similarity, but my jocular manner dug me a hole the size of the Grand Canyon. After a couple of minutes of trying to get her to see the lighter side of the situation, I realized that the only thing I could do was apologize profusely and empathize with her plight. A few days and a whole lot of tears later, we made up. Yet if had I remembered Kenny’s advice from the get-go, I could have saved us both a whole lot of trouble.
“Know when to walk away, know when to run.”
Translation: If you can’t agree to disagree, you’re in for some very
long nights staring at the ceiling or sleeping on the couch.
Explanation: Agreeing to disagree is the single most important part of
Getting Over It, because there's no arbitrator that's going to step in
and award you points just because you're 65 percent right and he's 35
percent right. Even if there were, even if you tallied up all the
argument points that you've ever won over your hapless, ill-informed
boyfriend, what would you possibly do with them? Nothing. "Winning"
arguments takes as much time as winning 3,000 Skee-Ball tickets -- and
has about the equivalent value. So unless a handful of spider rings and
Superballs are important to you, it's generally best to just leave it
alone.
“You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table/There’ll be enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.”
Translation: Congratulations, you won the fight. Now be a gracious winner and never bring up the topic again.
Explanation: Sometimes things are clear-cut. He started a fight with a
guy at the movies. He got drunk and made a fool out of himself at a
dinner party. He forgot that you had plans for dinner and left you
waiting for two hours. In such instances, he has no justifiable excuse.
This doesn’t mean he won’t try to invent one, and it doesn’t mean he
can’t cobble together something that sounds semi-reasonable. But
whatever his motives, his actions were wrong, and he’s gotta step up
and apologize. And you, class act that you are, have to accept his
apology and let it go. No allusions to past disagreements. No storing
up ammunition for future battles. And certainly no passive-aggressive
comments. You’re right, he’s wrong, move on!
A couple I know have their share of marital squabbles. One evening, the
day after a touchy argument that they had agreed was patched up, the
husband came home with two bouquets of flowers. Despite the "peace"
that they had made and the floral gesture, the wife remained as pissy
and stone-faced as if he had just skinned her cat. Not good. After you
make up, you have to let things go, especially in front of other
people. I know another couple in which the wife constantly berated her
husband for his career choice (writer), although she married him
knowing full well his chosen vocation. Not only did her negative jibes
surely affect his confidence, but it made everyone around them terribly
uncomfortable. Of course, the word “sorry” does not heal all, nor does
a couple of bouquets of flowers, but what more can you possibly do once
everything has been said? What value is there in hashing out the same
issue over and over again?
It’s one thing to be all about sharing feelings, and another thing to
always beat a dead horse into some ugly, sticky glue. I would never
compare your precious relationship with horse-based glue, but Kenny
would, and since he’s been happily married since 1997, I think you
should listen to him.
Linda
There's such a thing as a healthy grudge. I bear healthy grudges
against: (1) my bank; (2) the Columbia House Music Club; (3) a guy who
once told me a truckload of lies, causing havoc that took years to
untangle; (4) a vet who didn't properly care for a cat of ours and
later sniped that it was because he was too busy to give us all the
relevant information; (5) one of my college professors; (6) Justice
Scalia; and (7) a kid who regularly plagiarizes my writing on the
internet. I dislike all of these people and entities based on their
past (and, in some cases, ongoing) misdeeds, and I do not deny it. I
won't be getting over it, I won't cotton to any platitudes about
bygones, and if I see any of them walking down the street, I will flash
them a dirty look like you would not believe. Not that you can really
see the Columbia House Music Club walking down the street, but you get
the idea. I learned a long time ago that the ability to live peacefully
in a universe in which you have enemies will save you years of misery.
But grudges against people you're supposed to love, or like, or be
related to? Those are not so healthy. The great thing about being angry
at that college professor is that I never have to see him again. In
fact, I don't feel the need to achieve resolution of my feelings in any
of those cases, and I don't feel the need to be forgiving. Why would I
forgive the vet? He never apologized. The hell with him! My cat died!
Bad vet!
But when you feel like you've been wronged by somebody you care about,
it's sort of like singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," in that everybody
knows how to keep it going, and nobody knows the graceful way to end
it. And if you don't end it, you will wind up having the same
relationship with your boyfriend that I have with my bank, and believe
me, you do not want that to happen.
Of course, the way you put away your anger depends partly on what you
have to work with. If you get lucky, you'll have an honest conversation
about it. You'll work out whatever caused the fight, and you'll feel
comfortable that the problem is solved. The biggest hazard is probably
"winning" the argument -- which you will do from time to time, in the
sense of extracting a flat-out, unqualified apology -- and then feeling
the need to go back and "teasingly" bring it up over and over again,
which you should not do. Unless you enjoy being reminded of everything
you've ever done wrong, shut up and forget it.
Things are naturally more difficult when you expend a lot of effort,
and when it's over, you still don't feel like you've solved anything.
You've been offered a dubious explanation, or you still think he was
wrong and he still thinks you were wrong, and no amount of discourse
has changed anyone's mind. What to do?
Sometimes the smartest thing is to ask yourself this: What is the worst
thing that will happen if I resolve to never think about this again?
Women -- especially women who have never had close, platonic male
friends -- wildly underestimate the prominence of "Oh, my God, would
you fucking drop it" in the list of male complaints about women. If I
were to pick out one area in which men have us at a disadvantage, it
would be that of not thinking and talking the life out of everything
that happens until everyone involved is a dried-out husk. I once got
into a fairly heated email exchange with a male friend who worked in my
office, and it went on all morning, and then at about 11:00, he sent me
one that said, "We have to be friends again by 11:30, because remember,
that's when we have to leave for lunch." And we were. Ding! Fight over.
Because it didn't really matter, and when it doesn't really matter, you
can just declare it over. And it is. You can even shout "Ding!" if you
want, but make sure the guy knows what you're talking about, or you'll
get funny looks.
Copyright © 2006 Evan Marc Katz and Linda Holmes from the book Why
You're Still Single Published by Plume; May 2006;$13.00US/$17.00CAN;
0-452-28738-3
Evan Marc Katz is the founder of E-Cyrano.com, an online dating
consulting service that partners with JDate and other dating sites. He
has been featured on CNN, Fox, NPR, and the Today Show, and, yes, he
is, in fact, single and living in Los Angeles.
Linda Holmes writes as "Miss Alli" for Television Without Pity and is a
frequent contributor to MSNBC.com. She lives in Minneapolis.
Visit www.whyyourestillsingle.com for more information.
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