Dating : Arguments Are Meant To Be Won

I’m endlessly thankful to have a partner who respects me, who listens intently to the things I have to say, and puts in time and effort to internalize it. I’m lucky that he values growing with me. This means that on multiple occasions, when I bring up something I’m upset about, he will understand my perspective. Sometimes, he will feel bad. And most of the time, he will arrive at the conclusion that I have identified in him a flaw that he wants to improve on.

Don’t get me wrong — we’ve both made it clear that he’s not changing for me. I, for one, am not keen on dating a block of malleable dough. He stands his ground when he doesn’t think I have a valid, important point, and he asserts that he’s changing to become someone he’s prouder to be.

It seems like I’m getting what I want, right? The best of all worlds. My discomfort was heard, my suggestions accepted. I’m winning these arguments, right?

It didn’t feel that way; things weren’t improving exponentially the way I so desperately wanted. This acquiescence from him, no matter how much he tried or how well-intentioned, became draining, and all the “serious conversations” got tiring too. I felt more and more like a therapist, focused on coaching and counseling him. At the same time, I felt like the person with endless demands, yet didn’t play their own part in strengthening this relationship.

Re-examining Ourselves

In times like these, perhaps the best course of action is to turn the spotlight inwards. Even if we have tried our best and failed to see our own fault in the matter, there will be actionable steps that we can take to improve the situation.

I found my action in the way I initiated discussions in times of friction.

I’m not someone who is used to being vulnerable. In fact, I often feel far from comfortable exposing my thoughts and feelings, even if that has improved drastically over the course of this relationship. So one day, when I felt down and overlooked after a series of video-conferencing mishaps, it took a lot of indirectness, hesitance, and mental steeling for me to get this out:

“I find it hard to start conversations and share what I’m thinking when we’re using Zoom. It’s weird. Can you help me?”

It’s not a major change. But it’s definitely different from “I’m upset, because it feels like you don’t take time to listen to me.” Instead of presenting a problem for him to fix, it was an admission of vulnerability. Instead of making him feel like he had to improve on yet another aspect of himself, it created a collaborative space where we could work together to fulfill both our needs.

With this change, I’m learning him more each day, just as he learns me. We become aware that we do not live in each other’s heads, and make the conscious effort to share our minds. There was no longer guilt on my part, wondering if I’m being over-dramatic; there was no longer guilt on his part, making him scramble to understand what he did wrong.

Instead of a one-sided attempt at fixing the issue, we focused on mutual support, taking steps to meet in the middle.

This, I’ve come to realize, is partnership in its realest sense.