How Not to Compromise With Your Partner By David Leonhardt
Do you ever disagree with your spouse? Or your boyfriend or
girlfriend? Of course not – she/he/it is perfect, right?
You can imagine my shock when my friend confided in me that he
and his wife often fought over tiny things.
"You're kidding."
"Yes, we fight over the tiniest, most unimportant things," he
confirmed.
"Well, why don't you just let her have her way then?"
"Because we also fight over big, important things," he admitted.
"What about compromise?"
"We do that all the time," he responded.
"So what's the problem?"
"The problem is that she wins most of the compromises."
Compromises are never easy. A reasonable compromise is when both
parties feel they won. A truly great compromise is when both
parties know they lost.
The problem is that even the most modest of us, when thrust into
the perils of compromise, have inflatable egos.
For instance, my wife and I were recently waging compromise, and
I don't even recall what diplomatic gaffe I had committed. But
she was determined to set me straight. "Don't be so premature,"
my wife scolded.
"Premature?"
"Amateur, then," she said.
"Amateur?
"No, the other word. Stop acting like a such child!" she
shouted, looking for a dictionary.
God gave us dictionaries so we wouldn't have to spell. They are
big books with small print, and trying to find anything in them
shortens fuses and, in the heat of compromise, can only lead to
dictionary projectile injuries. Fortunately, our house is messy
enough to conceal even the largest dictionary.
Which is why, when compromise is imminent, I occasionally find
myself dripping wet.
Water never hurt anyone, I tell myself. Then I remember Noah.
And Jack. And Jill. But so far, I have avoided drowning in my
own sorrow, which probably means I am losing fewer compromises
than my brother.
Our house lives in an era of an uneasy truce. Fortunately,
nobody is bent on world domination.
If I would just learn to put the toilet seat down or wipe the
counter after myself, I could strike a diplomatic coup. However,
if I did, I would have to fork out for an embassy reception, and
my wife is the only caterer in the house. Plus it would force
her into a most uncomfortable corner of having to put the other
toilet seat down and close the lights when she leaves the room
to avoid a diplomatic faux pas.
Being a loving husband, I am determined to protect my wife from
any discomfort in her own house (or having to cater a diplomatic
reception), so I resist the temptation to score such a
diplomatic coup and I continue to leave counter tops wet.
It is sometimes for the greater good to allow a friendly
exchange of sniper fire, taking cover if it looks like it might
get out of hand. The world is a much more peaceful place when we
just accept that we can all happily get along, and that we are
in no real danger living perpetually on the brink of compromise.
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