George E. Atwood, PhD |
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gatwood@rci.rutgers.edu |
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Strange Memories, Odd Stories, Goofy Thoughts~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Ninety-tenA few years before he died, my father turned to me and said, “Yep,
Georgie, it’s ninety-ten.” I asked what it was that was ninety-ten.
His answer: “It’s the balance that keeps a marriage intact,
it’s what determines whether people stay together or break up.”
The further explanation was that, according to all he had seen in a life
then of seventy nine years, marriages only work when one of the two parties
involved carries ninety percent of the adaptation, the adjustment, the
accommodation. The other party only has to do ten percent. Any departure
from this particular division causes the marital relationship to break
down. This is because one of the two sides has to give in pretty much
completely, while the other one rides high. This is not about who does
the housework, who cuts the lawn, who spends how much time with the children.
This is about who manages the tensions in the relationship itself, who
creates the harmony, who gives in, who apologizes and sets things right.
My father added: “I know people talk about fifty-fifty, about sharing
the work of making a relationship last. I tell you, that is all bullshit.
I have watched marriages all my life, and the ones that last are ninety-ten.”
I wondered what happens when it is ninety five percent and five percent
in the division of the accommodation. Or, even more extremely, what about
one hundred and zero? That would be when one of the two partners carries
the burden of ALL of the adjustment, and the other does NOTHING. I did
not ask my father about this, but I wish I had. Presumably this too would
not work and the marriage could not survive, because it would simply kill
the one that carries the one hundred percent.. After this discussion,
I asked my father which was he: the one who did the ninety, or the one
that did the ten. He answered: “the ten.” At first I thought
his answer was commendable, and I said so, because ordinarily the ten
would be so self-satisfied that there would not even be a thought about
how seriously he was taking advantage of the ninety. And yet here was
a ten owning up to his own tenness. But then another, rather depressing
possibility came into my mind: my father was married three times, and
all three wives predeceased him. Maybe he was not a ten at all –
I began to think he was pretty much a zero, and their carrying of the
hundred killed them all. I had been wishing that he was alive so I could
ask him about this. But then he came to me in a dream, and he said that
I was right. His admission is definitely commendable, and I admire him
for it; but it is also kind of sad. .
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