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When we were very young, and we had a lot of small, largely indistinguishable objects (like pennies, at least for the numismatically uninterested) to divide up, we didn't determine the size of the pile, do a bunch of long division, and then count out each kid's stake. No, it was a penny for you, a penny for me, a penny for you, a penny for me. Adults deal cards this way. Small meetings are sometimes run this way. Lining or queuing up is a little different, but retains the same spirit. Everyone gets a turn, and if you've had one already, you can try for another one by getting back in line. On busy days in Disneyland, you may only get to go on a few rides. The first week in February on a weekday, your need to get food and not puke may be the only meaningful limit. One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me creates a rhythm to a relationship that supports a sense of fair play. That rhythm is composed of alternation and of comparable size. The pennies weren't identical, but when we were children, we recognized the kid who was digging through the pile for the shiniest, or the oldest, or the ones with the different back to them and we didn't like that kid. That kid was cheating.
We have surely learned a lot of things since the piles of pennies and marbles. Unfortunately, so has that damn kid. Don't be the damn kid. Take turns, and don't cheat. If someone thinks you are cheating, remember how much you hated that damn kid and try not to be that damn kid.
What should we take turns at? Who approaches who at the party? Who offers contact information? Who calls? Who arranges to go for coffee or out to dinner or to a movie or on a gallery walk? Who pays? Who tells a traumatic or embarrassing story? Who talks about moving this relationship to the next level? Who initiates sex? Who supplies the condoms? Who picks positions? Who decides when to be goal oriented in (or out) of bed? Who commits? Who moves to another city? Who gets a new job? Who stays in a less than ideal job for the benefits? Who supports who through school? Who apologizes first when you've both screwed up? Who compliments who? Who spontaneously takes up a mutually loathed household chore or at least hires someone else to do it?
Yes, we are keeping track. You can say you aren't all you like, but we all have finely tuned antennas to detect lack of fair play, to spot that damn kid who is trying to scam us all. Our rules may or may not be calibrated correctly, but they are calibrated. Figure out a way to recalibrate them if you need to. Be sensitive to what they tell you. Try to communicate it early if your antennas are troubling you, before all you can think about is how that damn kid is cheating again. Dean and Kellie Larue have some excellent advice on turn taking, much of which amounts to making sure you do it. They also say that length of turn matters less than knowing when a given turn will end, or rather, knowing when it will be my turn again is crucial to my ability to tolerate it being the other person's turn for a long time. This can get tricky. A lot of committed couples make a deal that amounts to, I'll support you while you work on X (graduate school, the great American novel). When you succeed or are otherwise done, then it will be my turn. While it would appear that the current turn has a defined end point, the person whose turn it is can manipulate that end point more or less at will. The person whose turn it will be next has less control over when it will be his or her turn than the other person and random chance, the universe at large, Murphy. You can support your partner while they work on the great American novel, but you should set a specific period of time on this endeavor.
Chapter 16 covered ways to create the kind of interdependency that nurtures a close connection between people. If the mechanical details (like who takes out the garbage vs. who mops the kitchen floor) of this interdependency have ossified over time, extending turn taking to this interdependency is a good way to deal with those tasks you feel similarly about, whether you both love them, hate them or feel completely indifferent to them. It can also be a useful way to avoid trapping someone in an expertise they made the mistake of demonstrating early on. Just because one of you is really, really good at arithmetic doesn't mean that person should be stuck balancing the checkbook every every month until death or divorce or breakup do you part.
One of the accounting systems not referred to in Chapter 16 is the social calendar for couples who are behaving as a social unit at least part of the time. Couples who are not behaving as a social unit have to negotiate this on an event by event basis. Couples who are behaving as a social unit, but who do not have a shared social calendar are unusual in continuing to negotiate this on an event by event basis. That can be as bad as dollar by dollar and minute by minute accounting, but I'm leaving that for them to decide. Most couples who behave as a social unit have at least a virtual social calendar which is shared. It may be a physical calendar in the kitchen. They may have matching PDAs and they sync one or more times a day. They may call each other on the phone before committing to something. Or, one person may own it and the other person be more or less dependent on the first person to tell them what they are doing each day.
If one of you owns the joint social calendar, you have to take turns with it. Really, I insist. Attempts to demonstrate incompetency (a la balancing the checkbook) are cute, and even tolerable for up to a decade. After that, you have to put your foot down or you will turn into one of those obnoxious middle-aged couples where one person behaves like an infant and the other person is offensively patronizing. If you really don't know how to schedule your time, it's quite crucial you learn, because you'll never be able to maintain friendships after this person dumps you, or after you dump them for being such a control freak.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 2002.
Created February 9, 2002 Updated November 19, 2003