MODERN LIFE SHANE WATSON
Grounds for divorce
Why it’s the little things that finish us off I could get on to surface wiping (spread, smear, leave scourer in middle of table and exit), but I’ve got to stop somewhere
That ongoing story about the woman who has been refused a divorce because the judge didn’t consider her husband’s behaviour unreasonable enough has got a lot of women thinking. Apart from: “Hang on, they can stop you?”, we have been reflecting on the definition of “unreasonable” and now we see what’s happening here. In the judge’s mind, “unreasonable” equals “extreme” – the husband moving his gorilla into the marital bed, for example – whereas anyone who is married knows that it’s the little unreasonables that are far more likely to finish you off.
Right on cue, as it happens, a marketing research study has concluded that disagreeing over household brands (he likes Gold Blend, you like Café Noir) has a more corrosive effect on relationships than the big bust-ups. Sounds weird, I grant you – couldn’t you go crazy and get one of each? – but the principle is spot on: little unreasonables trump big, because you have to deal with the big stuff while the small stuff is quietly driving you nuts.
Brand incompatibility has not, so far, been an issue in my marriage, though almost everything else kitchen related is. Most days, I find myself asking: “What possessed you to buy this?” (boilin-the-bag rice); “Throw out that” (brand new J-cloth), “Put fat in the gobbler that has been broken since 2008”, and “In God’s name, how much washing-up liquid did you use?” (when one end of the kitchen looks like foam night at an Ibiza club). Those are just some of the little unreasonables that occur regularly in a three-foot-square section of our kitchen.
They’re not the end of the world but, combined with a fresh upload of hormones, a sleepless night, and discovering a sausage abandoned plateless on a fridge shelf with a bite taken out of both ends, they’re not marriage enhancing. I could get on to surface wiping (spread, smear, leave scourer – WRONG IMPLEMENT
– in middle of table and exit) but I’ve got to stop somewhere.
To be fair, I’d rather have this type of unreasonable behaviour to deal with than those dogwhistle irritations: a noisy chewer; or a waitresscharmer; or a fake phone voice; or someone who’s super fastidious in the kitchen, who does lots of chopping prep and arranging things in bowls, and who then turns into Sean Spicer when the time comes to serve it up: Now. Now. Quickly HAVE the Sauce.
I’d rather my “unreasonable” than those husbands who have a system in the supermarket and a bag-packing formula. Or a remote-control controller who always has to have the same Sunday night routine. Or the ones who give you the once over before you go out, and might suggest a change of shoes or a less armrevealing top. Or a sulker who gets easily bored of being out with your friends/people who don’t know anything about his job. Or one of those who really hates it when you spend money on clothes because you’ve already got cupboards full. (Don’t you hate those?)
And what you really don’t want (one of the unreasonable behaviours cited by the woman who may not divorce) is a husband who berates you for your bad conduct in the past – in her case, an affair.
In the judge’s world, clearly an affair is the pinnacle of unreasonable. But the one thing worse, arguably, than a cheater is a self-pitying harperoner. Making us feel bad when we’ve already said sorry once, that’s a killer small unreasonable right there. Hinting that we might need to lose weight, or sharpen up our act – that’s another.
I’m starting to feel quite lucky, after all.