You’re driving home together at the end of a long, draining day. It’s almost dinnertime, and the thought of cooking feels impossible. So, you turn and ask, “Would you like to stop someplace for dinner?”
“Not really,” comes the answer.
That’s it. Two words. And suddenly the car feels a lot smaller.
Didn’t they notice how tired I am? Why do they get to decide?
Meanwhile, the other person has no idea anything went wrong. They heard a question, so they gave an honest answer. Maybe they’re exhausted too and just want to get home. Maybe they’ve been quietly worrying about money this month. As far as they’re concerned, the conversation went fine.
Same words. Two completely different conversations.
I learned this the hard way
I’m a morning person. I get up about 5:00, and I’m wide awake five minutes after my feet hit the floor. By 9:00 p.m. I have trouble forming words with more than one syllable or walking upright.
My wife, Diane, is the opposite. Her mind is just getting warmed up when mine is shutting down.
We discovered the problem about two weeks into our marriage. I was drifting off to sleep when I heard four words that make any husband’s eyes snap open: “We need to talk.”
For her, it was the perfect time. She’d been thinking about something all day and finally had my attention (she thought). As a young husband, I panicked because I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care. So, I kept telling myself, “Don’t fall asleep . . . don’t fall asleep . . .” while she described the situation. She assumed that her new, caring husband would be happy to talk through the issue. I really was interested, and I did really care. For me, it was a test of survival. I really did care, and I desperately wanted her to know that. So I kept telling myself, Don’t fall asleep… don’t fall asleep…
I fell asleep.
She was talking into thin air.
We had to do some damage control the next day. But that night taught us something we’ve relied on ever since. We weren’t failing to care about each other. We were assuming the other person heard what we meant.
It’s not just marriage
This happens everywhere:
- A manager says, “Let’s revisit this later.” You hear “no.” He meant “later.”
- A teenager says, “I’m fine.” A parent hears “leave me alone.” The teen meant “give me some space – then ask me again.”
- A coworker replies to your email with one line. You hear irritation. She was voice texting on her phone in a parking lot.
We think communication breaks down because people don’t care. More often, it breaks down because we assume they share our meaning.
One simple shift
Next time a conversation leaves you frustrated, try this: say the thing underneath the question.
Instead of “Would you like to stop for dinner?” try “I’m wiped out. Could we grab something on the way home?”
Instead of guessing what somebody meant, ask: “So, when you said, “Not really” – what did you mean by that?”
It feels almost too simple. But most tension comes from what we didn’t say, not from what we did. People aren’t mind readers, even the ones who love us most. When we give them the meaning along with the words, we stop talking into thin air.
What’s going on
Today only (September 30), my book I Wish He Had Come With Instructions is on sale for Kindle for just 99 cents. It’s written for women who want to understand what’s really going on inside the men in their lives, but the core idea applies to every relationship: understand the differences instead of trying to fix them. Today’s post was drawn from that book – and it’s the most highly rated of all 10 of my books on Amazon (highest number of stars). If you haven’t read it, this is a great chance to pick up a copy for under a buck!
(But do it right now, because the sale ends tonight.)
More soon. I’ve got some things I’m excited to share with you coming up!
Have a great rest of your week!
Mike