Introduction

       What makes for a good marriage isn’t necessarily what makes for a good romantic relationship. Marriage isn’t a passion-fest; it’s a partnership formed to run a very small, mundane and often boring non-profit business. And I mean this in a good way.

      — LORI GOTTLIEB, Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough

      I made an important discovery thirty-eight years ago while working at a local agency as part of a counseling internship. I was sitting with a married couple whose love and commitment were strong, yet they couldn’t stop arguing about how to manage their money. Paul saw money as a ticket to freedom and pleasure — a chance to buy the sports car he wanted, enjoy the best restaurants, and purchase the latest climbing gear. Amy, whose priority was financial security, wanted to live frugally and put away as much money as possible. Each partner was scared of the other’s style. Amy was frightened of what she viewed as her husband’s recklessness with the checkbook, and she worried they wouldn’t have enough money socked away for the future. Paul, for his part, believed his wife was trying to leach all the fun and adventure from his life.

      Their arguments were fierce and unrelenting. By this point, the blame and anger they were hurling at one another had become a bigger problem than their differences in spending styles. Even as a relatively new therapist, I could see these two weren’t going to resolve their conflict by just talking it over.

      Meanwhile, I was teaching a class on interpersonal communication at Oregon State University and had recently introduced my students to “pillow talk,” a process in which two people discuss an issue they differ on. They begin by sitting on a pillow and stating their position. Then they move to the other person’s pillow, talking about the same topic from the other’s point of view. This gave me an idea. What if Paul and Amy didn’t need traditional couples therapy? What if they would benefit more from the simple practices I taught in my introductory communications class?

      In our next session, I suggested that Amy and Paul try the pillow-talk exercise. I asked them to describe their feelings, beliefs, and concerns about their money issue, then shift sides and describe their partner’s perspective with as much conviction as they could, as though it were their own. Next, I suggested they think about how each side was right and how each side was wrong. In the last part of the exercise, I asked both partners to verbally acknowledge the truth in both positions.

      Amy and Paul dove in willingly. Within a short time, I saw them make extraordinary progress. For the first time in their twelve-year marriage, they’d gained a genuine understanding of what it was like to be the other person. Although they still didn’t agree about money, something between them had softened; they were gentler with one another and had fewer arguments. Over time and with practice, the couple learned how to allocate money in a way that at least partially accommodated both of their needs and how to be a little more tolerant of their partner’s different way of doing it. Despite their ongoing disagreement, they managed to stay connected. In short, they were developing and honing their love skills.

      The truth is, most couples don’t lack love; instead, they lack the skills to communicate compassionately while hurt, upset, or holding a different perspective. It’s usually the way we manage our differences — not the differences themselves — that causes pain.

      Improving your communication skills is a familiar concept in the work world, but we tend to practice it less often in our love lives. After all, most of us “fall in love.” “Falling” doesn’t require competence, intention, or practice. It just happens. The necessary elements of a healthy relationship — making time to be together, pleasure in pleasing and listening to one another, acceptance of differences — come naturally at the beginning of a relationship. But over time, as the dopamine high of infatuation fades, we begin to experience our differences in a new way. Increasingly, they feel painful, more glaring, and sometimes impossible to navigate. We start to think something is terribly wrong. We may believe we’ve “fallen” out of love and conclude that we’ve chosen the wrong person.

      The heart of my teaching — and the heart of Love Skills — comes from the Love Cycles model, which explains that relationships develop in predictable stages, each of which presents its own challenges. With knowledge, commitment, and practice, we can usually work through these challenges, even when they initially feel insurmountable. Contrary to conventional wisdom, people don’t meet, fall in love, overcome a few trials, and then live happily ever after — nor do conflict and dissatisfaction between partners necessarily mean a couple is headed for Splitsville. According to the Love Cycles model, lasting love develops in five stages: The Merge, Doubt and Denial, Disillusionment, The Decision, and Wholehearted Love.

      Amy and Paul were stuck for a long time in the Disillusionment stage and were almost ready to give up on their marriage. With just a few skills, they were able to find their love for one another again and move on to a new and happier stage of their relationship.

       The Merge

       Doubt and Denial

       Disillusionment

       The Decision

       Wholehearted Loving

      Love Skills will teach you how to stay connected even when you’re feeling hurt, angry, or distant. You will acquire a tool kit to navigate the thorniest issues and learn how two imperfect people can love one another as perfectly as possible.

      The Case of the Dirty Dishes

      Over the three decades that I’ve worked as a therapist and couples coach, I’ve participated in countless training programs and acquired numerous certificates and degrees, but my primary source of knowledge — especially when it comes to the cycles of love — is my own thirty-five-year marriage.

      When Tim and I began our relationship, we never expected that the qualities we most loved about each other would become the ones we were most determined to change. I was infatuated with Tim’s strong moral compass, his idealistic commitment to living a meaningful life, and his reliability. He, in turn, was charmed by my spontaneity, my bubbling enthusiasm for life, and my relaxed attitude toward time and money (my motto: “Don’t sweat either; there will always be more”). We had no idea this initial magic was a euphoric but temporary state caused by a biochemical cocktail. We had no clue we were in Stage One of the Love Cycles model: The Merge.

      Five years after we rekindled our relationship, he had sold his veterinary practice and his boat and arrived at my house with a well-packed trunk filled with clothes, books, and two silver candlesticks from his grandmother. We got married and adopted our dream child: an Alaskan malamute we named Sylva. We had pulled it off: we were together forever now. We believed we were off to Soulmatesville and a lifetime of magic and wonder.

      But that’s not what happened. Instead, within a short time, I began to see his reliability as rigidity, his moral compass as self-righteousness, and his idealism as ridiculously naive. He began to accuse me of being impulsive and financially irresponsible; on dark days he reclassified