Tuesday, 19 May 2015

Desperately trying to get it wrong

I’ve spent my life trying to get ‘it’ right –‘it’ being anything from a new recipe for a lunch party, to a science exam, to the accessories for a new outfit…

Well, now I’m truly paying the price for my genetic vagaries, through having responsibility for the bringing up of a mini-perfectionist in the form of my young daughter.

On her first day at school each child had to draw a picture. My daughter, along with several other girls drew an intricate, carefully depicted picture of a princess. These pictures were detailed, as accurate as they were able, and coloured within the lines. On the other hand, most of the boys’ pictures were barely recognisable as anything at all. My daughter screwed up her face to her little male friend ‘what’s that?’ she asked disparagingly of the few dramatic orange lines in the middle of his piece of paper. ‘A road’ he intoned. She looked puzzled and screwed her face up at the picture for a while - ‘It’s not a road, it’s a scribble!’ she finally concluded. Laughing inside myself, I bent over and whispered in her ear: ‘you must be nice about everyone’s picture’.

Looking back now, I’m ashamed. I wish I’d instead said very loud ‘Of course it’s a road! I can clearly see it is a very fine road indeed!’ I’d made the wrong point and missed the chance to encourage her to go with the flow, to use her imagination, to allow for self-expression rather than following the rules.

Not, mind you, that I necessarily want an anarchist in the house. But we women all know that the average man (or 5 year old boy) doesn’t care as much about ‘right’. All of us have sat in meetings where men have presented information which ranges from the ill-conceived through the blatantly wrong to the laughable as indisputable fact, whilst we (generally better-informed) sit in silence or in meetings where the men give voice to questions or comments which we were thinking but didn’t say for fear of sounding stupid or wrong (and invariably someone in the room says ‘great point’. This happens every time. It’s a rule).

Annoying. And yet, let’s think about a meeting made up entirely of ‘us’. A silent affair, with intelligent, informed people busily thinking things they do not voice, where nothing is put on the table for fear of being half-baked and so we all leave as we came in: holding cake ingredients but not an actual cake.  

The problem is, from a mother praising her daughter for a well-drawn princess through tidying up, to having her hair neat to school and university grades; girls learn early to get praise for getting it right. Meanwhile through natural inclination, social conditioning or both, boys get more comfortable early on with getting it wrong; with falling over, with getting dirty, with being messy, with passing off a scribble as a road.

When we hit the workplace where the schoolmarms’ rules no longer apply and we are forced to live by the rules of men, we no longer succeed by being correct, or good, or neat. Many a woman spends many a decade just getting on with excellent work, in a corner, unnoticed and undervalued because we are in the boys’ playground now and their rules apply (and the boys have far fewer rules than we would tolerate in our playground, dammit! For some reason they just don’t think that rules are fun).

There are massive advantages to getting it wrong; so many scientific discoveries from penicillin to Velcro have happened by mistake. Christopher Columbus was, after all, looking for India!

Trying to let go of getting it right is actually pretty hard: risking getting it wrong in public - mortifying. But unless we join in, and work together on that half-cooked dough the boys are throwing around whilst falling over, there won’t be cake at the party.


Monday, 22 September 2014

What I've learnt from tennis lessons

Being tired of slowly and surely being demoted a league or two every four months at my tennis club, and finding myself getting the same losing scores in league 27 as I did in league 23, I decided to get some tennis lessons.

I was amazed at the things I was doing wrong: not just the number of them but their utter obviousness and worse, how hard it was (still is) to implement the simplest changes.

Having now had half a dozen lessons; I've reverted to the cheaper method of repeating various mantras to myself whilst knocking up with various elderly women, and it occurs to me that the mantras are, perhaps not co-incidentally, just as relevant to my life off the court as on:

Mantra number 1: Keep your eye on the ball

I mean, really, this is such an obvious thing to do if one is playing a ball sport that the phrase has made its way into everyday speech. Nonetheless, keeping my eye on the ball all the way until it hits the racquet and leaves it again is a nigh on impossible task. As soon as the ball is near hitting distance my mind has immediately started to look at where I want the ball to go, worry about where the other person is, what they are doing (which generally is running towards the net in justifiable certainty that they will be able to intercept my poor return with a winner at the net) and what I will do next rather than just keep my head down, look at the damn ball and hit it.

In a horrible flash of realisation I see that this is indeed something I do all the time; look to the next thing before fully implementing the current project; jump to the next thought without letting someone finish their sentence or think about how stressed I will be when I finally get to 'that promotion' or 'that second baby' without just nailing the current situation.

Ambition is all very well but not if in all the scurry I end up muffing the shot. And although there are only a very few ways in which to hit a ball well, there are indeed a hundred ways to hit a ball badly (with the rim of the racquet is a favourite of mine).

Mantra number 2:  No one can do much with cooked spaghetti except eat it

Not having much core strength, I’ve spent the last 25 years playing tennis with my arms. Wrong wrong wrong. Like literally everything else, it needs to come from my core, my stomach; I need to hit from inside, not flop my extremities around like cooked spaghetti. A ball hit by a spaghetti person is out of control, is a directionless splash of pasta sauce.

Until I can hit from my core, my tennis coach can't teach me accuracy. I can’t get better.

In life outside the tennis court I often feel indecisive, unpredictable even to myself, too open to change and external influence; unable to make up my own mind to do something and just do it free from a constant loop of second guessing myself and wondering if I’ve got it right.

Mantra number 3: The person stopping me following through is me

More power! That's what I need! And so I turn my shoulders and exhaled and kept my eye on the ball and clenched my core and guess what? My left hand catches my racquet as it swings through and absolutely and completely stops my right arm from being able to follow through. Foiled yet again, my right arm halts dejectedly halfway through its stroke and the ball loops dismally into the bottom of the net.

And there I was trying harder, preparing early, breathing right, but no, another part of my body would stop me and I didn’t even realise it!

God why? And why so easily metaphoric? Why do I say something insightful in a meeting but lose impact by whispering it? Why do I pronounce something with great authority and then backtrack because someone gave me a funny look? Why do I power dress then simper annoyingly? So ridiculously, inexcusably anti-productive: and yet so difficult to stop.

Mantra number 4: Balance is everything

Falling off one's feet whilst hitting the ball does not boost consistency.

Yup, I needed a tennis coach for that piece of wisdom. Yup, it’s really and truly easier to hit the ball when both feet are on the ground than whilst falling over.

I paid money to learn that.

Mantra number 5: If you don’t know what you are doing wrong you can't get better

And that’s the light at the end of the tunnel. Squirmingly embarrassing though it is to realise that I needed a professional to tell me to watch the ball in a ball sport, to try and not fall over and to attempt to let my left hand know what my right hand is doing, the fact of the matter is that these simple rules will (if only my body would obey) revolutionise my game.

 The things I do ‘wrong’ in life and at work may be inane and obvious-even-to-a-five-year-old but I can’t help that now. Best take a deep breath, plant my feet firmly down and give it another shot.  

Saturday, 24 May 2014

Squandered Wonder

They say men think about what they want to do (e.g. go to the pub, get home in time for Match of the Day or have sex) whilst women worry about what they want to be (e.g. ‘be’ thin, ‘be’ attractive’ or ‘be’ the kind of woman who is confident, attractive, successful and manages to explain the offside rule succinctly whilst putting a child to bed in record time thereby demonstrating good mothering skills before pulling together an immaculate 3-course meal whilst engaging in light banter and ‘being’ appreciated by partner and guests. Meanwhile of course any man involved is just trying to have a beer and a sit-down, those happening to be the things he wants to do at that moment).

This obviously is not the case across the board or at all times but it is true too often for comfort.

The reason I wish it wasn’t even partially true is that trying to ‘be’ something is terribly tiring.

The other downside is that there really isn’t any point ‘being’ something amazing unless someone notices. And waiting about for someone to notice can be even more tiring than ‘being’ something in the first place.

Worse, many of us promptly spiral into vicious cycles of outdoing our own amazingness (e.g. all of the above just with a promotion and skinnier) and then having our new more wonderful selves not noticed and so on we go.

Until we get exhausted: Exhausted in the kind of way that you can only get by using up your fuel towards being something worthy of notice and then not being noticed. A more debilitating version of what a girlfriend and I used to refer to as 'squandered prettiness' when we got all dolled up and had no one to see and nowhere to go.

Now although I might have implied I’m some kind of lunatic in all this I’m not so sure I’m that unusual. Specifically, for those girlfriends of mine who have been talented, smart and pretty in their early lives, the sudden drop off in recognition can be traumatic. The worst-hit being those of us who have had almost constant validation and notice from parents, school teachers and then later, boys. Suddenly in our mid or late-thirties, married or partnered for life, perhaps a child or two, successful at our work or study, working hard to maintain our drive, our figures, our position in the tennis leagues and juggle the complex logistics of busy lives with ease and skill, we find that our male spouse (who in our heads has the job of letting us know we are doing well overall, in place of parents or teachers) just doesn’t give the kind of feedback and notice we are used to or feel we deserve.  This makes us irritated, then angry, then frustrated, and finally desperate.

God forbid if anyone should come along who notices us and ‘sees’ us for all the wonderfulness we are. I accept no liability for the consequences.

If we don’t wish to go down those dangerous and potentially illicit paths then the only options we have available to us is immense compensatory recognition from people or institutions that are freer with their compliments and recognition: the two most obvious candidates being (1) our places of work (who are content to exchange their compliments and a small part of their cost base for our hard work and intelligence) or (2) our babies.

Both options are entirely valid and important, but ticking bombs in one way or another. Babies because they grow up into horrid adolescents who, horrid or not, will leave us one day, presumably at a time when more illicit options are much less available, and our places of work because in the end all they can give us is not entirely satisfying however much we love our job, power or money.

We can ignore the ticking time bombs or we can recognise them and feel generally unsettled.

Those who are making do with the easiest available options immerse themselves in career success or re-define everything they do to be amazing Super-mums to attain recognition from other mothers and their children.

It works for a bit.

But what are we going to do at 50? What if we aren’t really good enough to be CEOs or find the cure for cancer? What if, in spite of all the organic homemade bread, our children are indistinguishable from children who ate Sainsbury’s wholemeal bread with the 20 E-numbers in it? What then?

I want to energise and recognise myself. I don’t want to mind when my husband doesn’t know or care when I’m being amazing at work, mothering or the other million and one things I’ve taken upon myself. It shouldn’t matter that I notice him; he shouldn’t have to notice me nor should I have to replace him with another external alternative.

Does that make for a distant relationship? Can we really every detach ourselves from wanting recognition and notice when we’ve had it all our lives? Is there a line between independence and separateness that I can find? I don’t know but I have to try and find it.

Whatever we do, however loved we are, however beautiful, however clever or talented, we are going to be alone someday. Children grow up, we retire, our spouses divorce us or die.

Not the most cheerful stuff, I agree, but certainly something to focus the mind.

The happiest old-and-alone people I know are those who get their fuel from doing things (gardening, reading, working in Oxfam). The saddest and loneliest are those who are waiting for notice, for a call or for a careless child to visit.

I want to do something about it now while I have so many options open to me and build those personal reserves of self-love and recognition which seem to come so much easier for men. Alright, alright, the bar is lower for men, they seem to be able to love themselves for growing a beard or not falling over when they've had 8 pints. But what's so wrong with that anyway? How lovely to have such an easy recourse to immense recognition from your drunken self! How much more set-up-to-fail we are if not only do we set the bar for success higher but then have to win recognition from outside ourselves on top of it!
Perhaps a good place to start is doing what I want to do and stop worrying about what that makes me 'be'. If I want a piece of cake I’ll have it and if I want a conversation with my husband I will start it. Let me judge myself, reward myself. If I'm useless, so be it, if I'm Wonder-woman, points to me. Either way, it's clear that the outcome is not dependant on whether or not anyone else wants a beer and a sit-down, nor should it be. And this isn't a nasty 'I don't care what anyone thinks' thing. I just want to hear my own voice in the audience to which I'm playing.  

A hard change to make. But I’m going to try knowing that the success of this piece of hard work will bring me a lifelong reward and recognition from the person who (should!) love me best: me.

Monday, 31 March 2014

Positive Gender Discrimination at work - friend or foe?

‘Foe’ of course, right? You, I and the other hard working women who totally and utterly deserve the advancement we come by through hard graft and lack of bullshit are going to strongly resent any implication that we got our jobs for any other reason. And how we feel is what matters right?

The real answer depends on whether we want equality in the workplace just because at this particular moment we are working hard and quite want to be rewarded for that or if we feel that by and large human institutions and processes would by and large benefit from a greater heterogeneity of view, risk appetite and talent than it has at the moment.

In many areas (including genetics, cooking or friendships) heterogeneity wins hands down over sameness (nothing worse than being too matchy-matchy).

Why not then in business?

If we say that in general (and, smarting from the recent financial crisis, some have been saying this a bit louder recently) a more varied attitude to analysis, risk assessment, or communication style would benefit business and therefore the wider environment, how the hell do we get there at a less than glacial pace?

Let me be clear, I’m not talking here about full scale regulatory quotas. But as we stand today, without some affirmative action, we aren’t going to get to anything like the mix we need in my working lifetime. In fact, it feels like in London at any rate, with the rising cost of living / childcare and increased hours demanded at work, we are going quietly but quickly backward.

In every other aspect of life, we KNOW that equality in the future is an entirely useless way to make up for an inequality that exists already. Adding 1 to both sides will never make 3 equal 3000 and if I and my extremely skinny friend both put on weight  at a rate of 2 pounds a month, guess what? She’ll still be thinner in a year’s time.

Anyway, let’s face it, equal policies don’t work in practice anyway.  The path up will be harder and managing to stay up there and keep your sanity will be way way way harder for a woman on average than for a man.
In other words unless there is positive discrimination the end result will never be equal and we’ll all be worse off, both men and women.

The fact that you and I instinctively don’t want our achievements to be ‘devalued’ by positive discrimination shouldn’t be the main factor and constantly surveying women who have ‘made it’ how they feel about gender-related affirmative action is like asking an oligarch whether he thinks lots of other people should own gas pipelines too. It really isn’t the point.

The very fact that we are worrying about the slender chance that in some scenarios we might be ever so slightly advantaged just shows how unequal this is! Ever heard of an old boys’ crony network worrying about whether they might not quite have earned their job, construction licence or presidency? Me neither. Ever heard a city boy turning down a promotion because it isn’t quite fair that he can work 18 hour days and then shag his secretary whilst his wife stays home and wipes his babies’ bums? Nope, I’ve not heard that one either.

Of course it’s possible for an individual woman to 'make it' without positive discrimination. Indubitably, in order to sustain her progress over time, and certainly if she has a family, she is going to be need to be a lot better than her male competitors to do so. The real question is, therefore, is it possible or fair to expect millions of women to all be better than all their male competitors by such a margin that the overall environment begins to equalise?  

It is inspiring and energising to find women who are better, faster, more capable, break more boundaries and are just downright braver than their male counterparts. It is however, in my view, deeply unfair to demand it as ‘standard’ of our entire sex.  

Tuesday, 4 March 2014

Why I love talking about cellulite

A very good girlfriend of mine tells me that when I look ugly, I look really ugly.  

If my husband told me that I was extremely ugly one morning I would feel very hurt. I would immediately take care not to let him see me in that state again, and add to the cycle of un-feminist primping I already undertake.

So how come I positively like the fact that my girlfriend calls me ugly? More generally, why are women, when they talk, so keen to convince each other of their hidden weaknesses? A routine conversation between women may well proceed as follows:

Woman A: Wow you look fantastic!
Woman B: God no I put on 5 pounds in the last week!
            Woman A: Really? I can’t see it!
Woman B: I’ve got stomach-holding-in underwear on.
              Woman A: Well no one would know; you look great.
Woman B: Thanks but I must go on a diet.
Both women walk away from this conversation feeling better.

I made a new acquaintance in the gym last weekend. Within 5 minutes, she had told me she didn’t like her thighs but thought her bingo wings were under control. This didn’t feel merely like an exchange of information, it was a friendly overture.

Why do we do this? Do men routinely immediately share their deepest and hidden flaws? I don’t think so. And yet I don’t feel a woman is being friendly / genuine until she does. Someone who talks about her ‘cellulite’ (i.e. insecurities/mistakes/weaknesses) on day 1 is therefore someone I like.

A lot of common wisdom claims that in general women see each other as competitors; that living in a man’s world as we do, we compete for the scarce resources of good men, power or career status. Much as I love my girlfriends and wish them only success and happiness, I will admit that this is partially true although it is not competition as a man would recognise it.

Man’s ‘compete’ thought process

Woman’s ‘compete’ thought process
a. What game or competition is on?

b. I want to compete to determine whether or not I am better than you

c. Now that we’ve competed I know whether or not I am better than you.
a. What are you most outstandingly good at?

b. I feel rubbish because you are better than me at the thing you are best at.

c. Now that I feel rubbish, I need to invent something I am better than you at to cheer myself up.

d. I have now added to my feelings of worthlessness by competing with the sisterhood.

e. Moreoever, I still feel rubbish because even though I’m better than you at making cupcakes, Kate Hudson’s thighs are thinner than mine.

And so, I’m not really competing with my girlfriends, I am competing with the best aspects of every other woman in the world simultaneously. It isn’t a competition, it is a voluntary thrashing. Whatever I get from this futile exercise, it certainly isn’t a feeling of superiority.

I think it is true that I do this because I cannot help myself; that we are more critical of ourselves than we need to be and/or that we are well aware that women who are perceived as ‘perfect’ elicit eye-rolling from both genders, whereas the same league of guy would not. But this is not a post about why women are down on themselves; this is a post about how in spite of suffering along with millions of other women from this incurable disease of self-depreciation, how in spite of demonstrating its nastier side effects of judging other women, though not as harshly as I judge myself, how in spite of all this, girlfriends are of incredible and growing importance to me:

1. They let me know it’s OK: They reflect me back to me in a more truthful way than I can obtain from a (heterosexual) man. Many men, after all, do not consider me ugly. Magically, in spite of seeing me as I am, in spite of the ‘judging’ (let’s be nice and call it ‘assessing’) which women do to each other, some of them still like me. They think I am ugly yet talk to me anyway. Their good opinion is more difficult to get and is greatly prized.

2. They show me how to be better: Grateful for some of their imperfections though I am, I admire their talents and can learn from or emulate them. This makes me better at things; from tips on how to apply mascara to disciplining my child.
Girlfriends are the exact opposite of how many of us feel we have to act at work or in relationships; from the first scary job interview or date onwards, we try to portray ourselves as our best. If we falter, we get told to act more confident and quite rightly so; out there it’s a man’s world and we act ‘up’ or fail.

But with our girlfriends, with my old and honest friends or new and forthright ones, we can relax. We may wish we didn’t worry about ourselves as much; we may wish we were less judgemental. Maybe it’s our fault, or the fault of men or society. Whatever the truth of it, like getting older, it may be something we cannot help. But by acknowledging that many of us feel the same, and by letting others see our fears, it is so much more comfortable a world! Comparing cellulite may be as good a way as any to signal our oneness.

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Do women really change when they have babies?

In my opinion, no they don’t. Not really, not underneath.

After giving birth a woman’s working hours may change, her ability to go out on a Saturday night be curtailed and her reactions to Oxfam adverts move from academic concern to actual tears BUT she is fundamentally the same person.

Let me explain what I mean.

The women I know who continue to have career aspirations after a baby, always had long-term career aspirations and never imagined their lives differently.

Those women who may have worked extremely hard and been extremely successful before children but do give up work, always had only short-term career aspirations and/or always wanted and expected to raise a family at home. Or hated their job.

The women who take picture perfect cupcakes into the school fetes were the ones who had matching dinner services and crystal at their dinner parties before they had kids, like designer clothes or expensive home d├ęcor i.e. perfectionists or the highly competitive.

The women who take in shop-bought fairy cakes or ones covered in globs of imperfectly mixed icing to the school fete were the ones who always considered it OK to bring friends home for dinner when they weren’t entirely sure what was in the fridge but thought they might have some ketchup somewhere i.e. pragmatists who know that once you’re drunk you’ll eat anything and that this is a golden opportunity to get rid of the out-of-date hummus.

What I’m trying to say, not very articulately, is that our daily activities may change, but our quintessential characteristics - ambition, pragmatism, sense of humour, young-at-heartedness, stinginess, selfishness - don’t change.

Why does it matter?

For two reasons.

Firstly, it matters to those women who haven’t had kids, who are thoroughly enjoying their current lives, work, social or otherwise but fear that birthing a baby will somehow change them beyond recognition and that this scary new person may well turn out to be much less fun to be. Be comforted; you will remain yourself unless you let yourself be lost (and, in my opinion, the tendency to allow yourself to get lost is a quintessential characteristic in itself).

Secondly, to the on-lookers, (partners, bosses, work colleagues of both genders), who can be incredibly patronising to as-yet-childless or pregnant women; acting as if everything she does or says before becoming a mother, cannot be trusted because she ‘will change’.

Aaagh! She will not change! Or if she is forced to become something she is not by economic pressures or society’s demands, she will become increasingly unhappy exactly because she hasn’t changed!

Details change, principles do not.

And yes I do know that the number of women, as a percentage of the world population, who have a reasonable degree of control over the structure and content of their lives is pitifully small. Far too small. But if a woman somewhere is standing up and saying ‘this is me and this is who I am’; we shouldn’t bat her down by saying ‘ah yes, but only until you have a child’.

Monday, 20 January 2014

Trading partners

How do you deal with it when what you want and what someone else wants (husband, boss, or friend) wants something else?

Answer A: Ignore what the other person wants or what you want (bitch or doormat)

Answer B: Ignore the problem entirely (storing up trouble to burgeon and propagate like a Ponzi scheme before you end up exhausted and plumping back for Answer A)

Answer C: Trade (relies on you having something the other person wants)

Answer D: Negotiate a win-win (may not come naturally and/or is difficult)

Ok so there’s no easy answer.

There is another option which is what many of us heartily wish was a viable answer:

Answer E: Our wants and needs are proactively identified, prioritised and granted from the sheer intuitive and psychic goodness (or guilt) of the other person.

Let me illustrate:

In the 2006 film The Break Up, the Jennifer Anniston character (Brooke) feels unloved and let down by the thoughtlessness of the Vince Vaughn character (Gary), whilst Gary feels nagged:

Brooke: It would be nice if you said thank you and helped me with the dishes

Gary: OK I’ll help you do the damn dishes

Brooke: No, come on, you see, that’s not what I want

Gary: You just said you want me to help you do the dishes

Brooke: I want you to want to do the dishes

Gary: Why would I want to do dishes? Why?

Brooke: See, that’s my whole point!

Gary: Let me see if I’m following this; are you saying that you’re upset because I don’t have a strong desire to clean dishes?

Brooke: No, I’m upset because you don’t have a strong desire to offer to do the dishes.

Gary: I just did!

Brooke: After I asked you!


What Brooke meant of course, which every female watching the film knew immediately, is that she doesn’t give a shit about the dishes. She wants to be loved enough that Gary’s disinclination to wash up loses to his desire to help her.

In negotiation tactics, Brooke's approach here is called 'Appealing to the Giver' i.e. appealing to, or being dependant on, the other person's desire to give. This is a lovely thought but is an approach fraught with disappointment because is based on a win-lose solution.

Human history will easily show that it is a far safer bet to rely on selfishness over selflessness. So a solution which appeals to the other person’s ‘Taking side’ must, on average, succeed more often.

The easiest way to do this is to Trade.

Trading is easy to do when the stakes are relatively low and when both parties have ‘resource’ to trade with.

For instance, because my husband and I both work and want to spend time with our child, exercise and socialise, time is accepted as equal value to us both and, (extremely importantly), used for similar purposes by both. ‘I’ll go out Thursday night and you can go out Friday night’ doesn’t make me feel like either a bitch or a doormat, nor am I likely to burst into tears if one time he wants to trade a slightly different way.

But the trade agreement falls over when the value or significance of time is different for each. This happened to me when I was on maternity leave (“can’t you get home at 7 o’clock when you say 7 o’clock I’ve already bathed the baby now” being translated as “You pretended you wanted a family but now you’ve got me up the duff and trapped in this clearly loveless relationship, you are out having fun safe in the knowledge I’ll bathe your bloody baby for you).

I had a lot of time. Time wasn’t what I needed. I didn’t have a lot of company. He thought I wanted time but I wanted his company.  Gary in the film thought Brooke wanted help but she wanted consideration.

Stands to reason that if your trading partner doesn’t even know what resource is at stake you aren’t going to feel fulfilled. It’s like asking for a boiled fish but secretly wanting a lovely rack of BBQ ribs. The fish may come your way (maybe maybe) but it sure as hell won’t hit the spot.

Of course you can only trade if you’ve got something the other person wants and that is of accepted equal value. Therefore, with more nebulous things like ‘love’, ‘company’, or ‘thoughtfulness’, trading is difficult if not impossible. It is not the same to say ‘you think of my needs above yours today and I will think about your needs over mine tomorrow’ (especially difficult if you are secretly resentful that you are always aware of his needs, whatever day it is).

Definitely then, the ideal approach is to negotiate for a win-win i.e. to co-operate, not compete for a win-lose.
Ah, added complication, he needs to know whether you are going for win-lose (competing) or win-win (co-operating) else you’ll end up battered:

  • If you both cooperate, you will both have good outcomes.
  • If one cooperates and the other competes, the co-operator will get a terrible outcome and the competitor will get a great outcome.
  • If both compete, you will both have mediocre outcomes.
  • In the face of uncertainty about what strategy the other side will adopt, each side's best choice is to compete.

Since most of us don’t have our conversations holding out large placards which say ‘today I think we should co-operate because I don’t feel I have a resource to trade with’, the problem of ensuring everyone is on the same page can be overcome by what is known as ‘framing’ i.e. how you start the conversation by articulating the problem:

Frame 1: ‘I never get time to go out but you go to the pub every Friday’ = I want to compete or trade but, as I’ve just reminded you, you already get what you want so it’s not in your interests to change unless I can trade another resource of equal value and this is a very complicated sentence but not nearly as complicated as the process of winning from such a desperate starting position

Frame 2: ‘Didn’t you say you wanted a poker night every week? How about you have it here on a Thursday and I’ll go out and leave you boys in peace’? = Think of the poker! You know you want the poker! Think of the Nachos you could eat in peace! And I’ll be in such a good mood when I get home I won’t even notice the crumbs!

I find the framing /negotiating for a win-win thing comes naturally at work but doesn’t even make an appearance with the terrible nebulous love-and-care-based things at home. There is so much at stake, emotions can be so near the surface, and the value we place on ourselves and on each other so dependant on not having to explicitly negotiate that even to think about framing / setting objectives etc. seems manipulative, unnatural and unromantic.

But, as a wise person said to me recently “there is a difference between natural and magical”. To expect, in our busy lives, someone else (particularly males) to be psychic / have the required magical powers to divine what we want and then to have the goodness to give it to us at personal expense, is not only naive, it diminishes us...it both dismisses everthing we have as not trade-worthy (and being wonderful, strong, talented people, our resouces are valuable and we, not they, need to be the first to recognise them as such) and ignores our ability to use our brains and intuition to come up with a solution that works for both sides.