Lovers who’ve been together awhile tend almost universally to get maddened by what
look (on the surface) like certain absurdly small matters. An otherwise quite reasonable
and decent person might admit to a range of acute sensitivities around some of their partner’s
rather minor habits – and a tendency swiftly to lose their temper on encountering them:
they press far too hard on the chopping board; they don’t put their seat belt on until
after the car is started; in their handwriting ‘b’ and ‘h’ are practically indistinguishable;
they squeeze the toothpaste tube the wrong way (pressing at the neck rather than the
bottom); they use the word the word ‘tragic’ to mean ‘sad’; they leave drawers fractionally
open; when they drink a glass of water they never drink it right down to the end but always
tip out the last few drops into the kitchen sink. Our reactions to such things can seem
wildly out of proportion. We may get extremely worked up – and then feel mean and possibly
insane. In quieter moments, we may wonder how we could ever let such insignificant matters
get to us so much. Rather than tell ourselves we are simply idiotic (though of course we
are all idiots at heart), we should lavish thought and time on the logic of our tiny
points of ire. The little thing – the small irritant – is always a symbol of a large
and in truth very important issue operating in the background of a relationship, though
unfortunately it’s not always easy for us to put our finger on what the real issue is
and therefore to give a calm and accurate account of what is, in fact, probably a genuine
cause for concern. Ironically, we’re very generous about symbols when they turn up outside
our own lives, particularly in art: at college we might write a thoughtful essay on what
sunflowers meant to Van Gogh or why the colour blue was so important to Picasso. With these
artists, we are generous. We don’t think they were idiotic to get so obsessed with
little things. We expend our imaginative effort to trying to work out what the details meant.
We should take a lesson from this patient and investigative approach and do for the
important little details of our own emotional lives some of what art historians did for
the details of their canvases. For the vigorous pressing on the chopping board, it’s not
the potential damage to the wood that’s in essence important. We could probably meet
the expense of replacing the board once a year or so. But our partner’s overeager
effort (as we see it) is a tiny moment in which we catch sight of a much more troubling
and larger quality in them: a sense of indelicacy, roughness and lack of restraint. And we fear
this side of them not so much in their life in general, but in relation to ourselves:
the real fear is that they won’t realise when they are hurting us. Our worry isn’t
for the board, but for ourselves. With the seat belt, the real point at issue might be
around authority. We were always taught to put the belt on before starting the engine.
We obeyed. We have learned to do the ‘right thing’. Why then do they feel they can get
away with breaking the rules? What is this slightly arrogant, entitled sense of being
different? The absurdly tiny detail of precisely when the seatbelt is fastened becomes the
carrier of a grand and in its way properly legitimate concern: will my partner ever understand
the fear of ‘doing the wrong thing’ and sympathise generously with it; will they stop
feeling they are above the rules? Equally important issues are – behind the scenes
– evident everywhere. The few drops of water the partner empties casually from the glass
are not about wastage (in a lifetime it might add up to one bathful only) but the fear that
they might treat us in a similar fashion and (without a second thought, after they have
drunk the best of our years) throw us away. Around the handwriting: their cheery Post-it
note on the kitchen table on Saturday morning ‘gone to buy bread’ (which could be pedantically
deciphered as ‘gone to buy head’) doesn’t genuinely confuse us. Rather, we resent their
lack of worry about being misunderstood. We resent the implication (embodied in this tiny
detail) that they don’t have to take special care to make themselves clear to us. We see
in the note a lifetime of misunderstanding and loneliness. So we are right to worry.
The problem is the way we handle our anxieties. Ideally, we wouldn’t simply curse and get
irritable. We would patiently transfer our attention and concern away from the minor
instance, the symbol, towards the real nucleus of our complaint, which we would lay out with
care, sympathy and a touch of humour. Once the real issues in our relationships are raised,
the annoying details may be less difficult to live with, because, most probably, our
partner won’t be indifferent to our articulated worries. With the riskiest symbols decoded,
love stands a chance of becoming ever more mutual, peaceable
and secure.
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