I read an article in the International Herald Tribune last week that really struck a chord. It was an essay by writer Joan Wickersham about the ways in which longtime couples develop their own private lexicons with which to communicate with one another.
She talks about this dynamic within the rubric of marriage, but her point applies to any long-term partnership. What's crucial is that you're together long enough to have a shared experience that which then evolves into a catch phrase that only the two of you can understand.
By way of example, Wickersham recounts the story of how, right after she married her husband, she got a job in a bank which she hated. Even though her husband had a job that he liked, he convinced her to quit her job (and he his) so that they could move somewhere else and both be happy. From there on out, "It's like the bank" became their stock way to describe any situation that was especially bleak and dismal. Wickersham has another great story about the phrase "We're just not serrated knife people" and what it came to mean within the context of their marriage.
My husband and I have been together for nearly 17 years and I know exactly what she means. I'm one of those people who's obsessed with schedules. Once, on a trip to visit my husband's parents in Atlanta, I perseverated for hours over whether, upon landing at Hartsfield Airport, we ought to go directly to his parents' home or stop by and visit a friend first and risk being late. To this day, whenever I begin obsessing about our travel schedule, my husband will look at me and say: "Should we just go home or should we stop at Douglas Jackson's?" (Not his real name.) It's code for: Are you really going to go on about this all night?
Similarly, we've also incorporated a phrase to describe that feeling you get when you anticipate that someone is going to disagree with you. My husband and I met in graduate school and one of our early bonding experiences was over our feelings about a mutual acquaintance (we'll call him Simon Collins.) Simon Collins was the kind of person who -- no matter what you said -- instinctively responded with something negative. I haven't seen or talked to Simon in years. Nor has my husband. But whenever one of us raises a topic that might possibly prompt criticism, we preface it by saying "No Simon Collins!" to disarm the other person from any knee-jerk disapproval.
Neither of these phrases would mean anything to anyone but the two of us. And that's the point.
I've written before about some of the things that make for a happy marriage/partnership: having shared interests; establishing a division of labor. But Wickersham's column reminded me of one more crucial ingredient: feeling like a team. There are lots of ways to do this, but having a private language -- a "civilization of two" as she puts it -- is one of the principle ways that you can reinforce that bond.
How about you? What strange and impenetrable shorthands have you and your partner devised to communicate with one another?
I'd love to hear them...
Follow Delia Lloyd on Twitter: www.twitter.com/realdelia