WHEN TWO PEOPLE decide to raise children together, there is a (wildly inaccurate) assumption that love and good intentions are all you need, and that once you have these secured that everything else will just follow along naturally.

But sadly, this is not the case.

Opposites attract, after all, and we typically fall for people who are the polar opposite of ourselves, and then we try to blend ourselves into one household where we have to maintain a united front for the kids.

It’s like trying to mix oil and water; if the oil really wanted to buy a new car and the water was strongly insistent that they live within their means. And sure, they are both right, but there can be only one winner.

Let me begin by saying that I am a reasonably mature adult who understands that compromise is the cornerstone of a healthy relationship. As an example, earlier today I even left the screws that he left from some DIY project or other on the side of the counter, and I fully intend to leave them there for definitely no more than two days at which point I will sweep them into the bin before denying any knowledge of their location and even help him look for them when he notices they are missing.

The art of compromise

I do this because I know that communication and compromise are key. Learning how to compromise in a relationship is an art form because there is a very fine line between getting what you want and starting a war.

Sure, compromise is hard, but do you know what isn’t? Winning. I love winning. Sadly, so does my partner. And when he suggested that instead of buying a new car that we can’t afford, we ‘live within our means’, it felt like a personal attack.

You see, I completely lack the ability to say ‘OK, let’s do it your way’. Honestly, I think I would burst into flames on the spot. I also don’t have the option to ‘let things go’. No, when I hit that button, it just shovels feelings of anger and furious injustice deep down inside the lining of my stomach, where it presents as an ulcer in six months’ time. Is that really what you want?

I know you have to find common ground and choose your battles carefully, because you can’t die on every hill. But, and bear with me here, what if every hill is my hill? What if I try very hard to compromise, but I also have an undeniable urge to win? I’m not saying I can’t compromise. I’m just saying that, hypothetically, if one of us is right, and the other is tragically, horrifically and undeniably wrong… then shouldn’t we all just agree to want what’s best for the relationship? (Which is me being right, and a new car in the driveway).

Meeting half way

I can’t go along with a wrong decision, and I also can’t just enter a discussion and hope for the best. I don’t just argue, I deploy. I have a relentless inner lawyer who starts preparing closing arguments from the second someone sends a contradictory opinion in my direction.

‘I just don’t think we need a new car’ he says, while Judge Judy is scrambling through all of the dusty old filing cabinets I have gathered over the past 15 years of our relationship, trying to find each and every example of times where we bought new things that we didn’t need and lived to tell the tale.

Judge Judy says we need a new car. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo

She’s like a one-woman debate team, and she does not miss. I’m nodding my head while she is frantically copying and pasting into a PowerPoint presentation called ‘Why I’m Right: A Journey’.

This is not a conversation. This is a courtroom theatre, where I am both the lawyer and the judge. I’m also the jury (we have already decided that I’m right). Sometimes the people on the balconies clap, but mostly they are just there for the show.

‘Opposites attract’

Don’t get me wrong, he’s just as well able to argue his side of things, and this is where the yin/yang relationship tension lies. Because compromise is the base line of relationships, but it’s also such a drag as an adult. When you’re a grownup, you’re supposed to have autonomy, and mostly you do… in your work, your finances, your circle of friends, etc. But in your relationship, the decisions aren’t just down to you. And that’s a challenge. 

If it all sounds exhausting, it’s because it is. I don’t like it any more than you do. But do you know what else is exhausting? Driving a car that always smells like stale yoghurt, and for no reason whatsoever, births an entire family of moths every single Spring.

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Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo

Now, before you accuse me of being difficult (rude, but also fair), I actually don’t argue about things that I don’t care about, and there are a great many things that I do not care about. But if he wakes Judy, all bets are off. I cannot be held responsible for her actions.

And although people may say that in relationships you have to lose a little in order to win a little, these people have clearly never felt the intoxicating exhilaration of winning an argument that you had absolutely no business winning.

Now look, obviously, the most important thing here is love in a relationship. Not winning. Not compromise. Not even that alluring new car smell. Our love for one another is the glue that holds all of this together. It’s what keeps us humble, ready to apologise, and maybe even open to negotiations.

And if, one day, that love happens to drive us to our local car dealership, and write a cheque for a new car, well, that’s just destiny. Because maybe I didn’t choose this hill to die on after all, maybe the hill chose me.

Margaret Lynch is a mother of two and is parenting columnist with The Journal.