Same Words, Different Conversations: the Language of Marriage

Picture the scenario: Man slumps home to his young family after work, barely speaking, shoulders tight, forehead creased.

The actual conversation:

She says: “Are you okay?”

He says: “I’m fine.”

She says: “You look tired.”

He says: “I have a headache.”

She says: “Ouch. Is there anything I can do?”

He says: “No.”

Within this brief interchange is a world of unspoken communication, a whole theatre of marital misunderstanding. Permit me to elucidate.

After 23 years of practice, and the help of a gifted marriage counselor – who can finally put in that pool thanks to us – my husband and I are experts at decoding the murky messages underlying such communications. We may not always choose to use our powers for good, but it’s there for us anyway.

For those of you who may still be struggling with the, for want of a better explanation, language barrier, I’d like to offer up my expertise, free of charge.

Here’s how that brief conversation above plays out, in his experience:

Man comes home to young family after work, slumped, quiet, tense.

She says: “What’s the matter with you? And don’t blame me. I’ve done everything I can do to make your life easier, at incredible personal sacrifice. And you just walked in the door, for god’s sake!”

He thinks: I’m a man. I’m fine. At least, I would be, if you’d get off my back, for one single second. And I just walked in the door, for god’s sake.

He says: “I’m fine, honey, just a little tired. You look very pretty. Can I help with dinner?”

She says: “Don’t ‘pretty’ me. That’ll get you exactly nowhere. You think you’re tired? You don’t know the meaning of the word, buddy. You should try spending a day running after your hell spawn. I hope you’re not hungry because I didn’t have time to get groceries.”

He thinks: Well you clearly didn’t spend your day cleaning. But I should cut her some slack. It’s my fault her life sucks, after all, I got her pregnant. Ah the good old days, when we used to have sex.

He says: “Sorry I’m such a bear, darling. I have a teeny little headache, that’s all. I’ll try not to inconvenience you with my pain.”

She says: “”YOU have a headache? Well, I’VE got a migraine. Why, right now, I believe my head might explode, splat, all over the kitchen. Probably because it’s my time of the month, hormones you know. It’s hell being a woman, you have no idea. Can you watch the kids for a few hours? I need to lie down. I’m cramping. And I blame you.”

He says: “Of course, sweetness, I only wish I could spend more time with our precious angels.” Dang, I’m a good husband. Too bad it won’t get me some.

Here’s how she experiences the same conversation:

She thinks: Uh-oh. Rough day, by the looks of it. I was hoping for some help with the kids, but I guess not.

She says: “Are you okay?

He answers: “I’m fine. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

She thinks: That hurts, but cut him some slack. Maybe it’s not me. Someone needs to be the bigger person here, and that’s clearly not a Y-chromosome kind of job. But I’ll tell you what, there’s no sex tonight.

She says: “You look tired. Can I rub your feet? I’m hear to listen, if you’d like to talk. Or just be together, quietly. Whatever you need, sweetheart.” Except sex.

He answers: “I have a headache.”

She thinks: Well of course! That explains everything! I’ve had enough headaches in my life to understand just what you need when you’re feeling rough. And you’re a man, so you naturally have a lower pain threshold. I can take care of this.

She says: “Oh poor you! Can I give you a neck massage? Get you an ice pack? Some Advil? Here, sit down, put your feet up.”

She thinks: Dang, I’m a good wife. But you’re still not getting sex.