A couple I was working with—I’ll call them Doug and Stephanie—were in my office when Doug announced:

“I want to try playing rugby.”

Stephanie looked at him.

“Have you ever played?”

Almost immediately, Doug became defensive.

“No. But it’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”

“You’ll get hurt.”

“I can handle it!”

“Rugby is such a rough sport.”

“I’m a big boy.”

And that was pretty much that. Doug shut down and remained resentful for much of the session.

Which seemed like quite a lot to have happened over a sport he hadn’t even played yet.

What She Said and What He Heard

Stephanie had said:

You’ll get hurt.

Doug heard something closer to:

You aren’t capable of doing this.

Those aren’t the same statement.

But to be fair to Doug, neither is “You’ll get hurt” entirely neutral.

Stephanie didn’t say he could get hurt. She said he would. There was certainty in the statement, and her tone may have carried something as well.

Maybe Doug supplied much of the additional meaning because of his history. Maybe Stephanie brought something of her own to the certainty with which she said it. Most likely, neither of them could know without asking.

That’s one of the problems with the stories we run in relationships: sometimes we invent them, and sometimes we’re accurately picking up something that hasn’t been said directly.

The point isn’t to assume you’re imagining things.

It’s to find out.

Reactions Contain Information, But They Aren’t Proof

Doug’s reaction made some sense given his history.

Growing up, his mother’s concern about his safety often felt to him like doubt about his abilities. Whether or not she intended it that way, he had become particularly sensitive to the possibility that someone close to him might see him as incapable.

So Stephanie’s concern landed on familiar ground.

But knowing that doesn’t tell us exactly what happened between Doug and Stephanie.

His history may have amplified something that was already there.

Or he may have heard something Stephanie didn’t mean at all.

Probably some combination of the two.

A reaction can belong to you without therefore being wrong.

But it also isn’t proof that your interpretation is right.

That’s where checking becomes useful.

We Do This All the Time

Your partner says:

“Are you going out tonight?”

You hear:

You don’t spend enough time with me.

“You seem quiet.”

becomes:

You’re being weird again.

“Did you pay that bill?”

becomes:

I can’t trust you to take care of anything.

Sometimes that’s exactly what’s being communicated.

Sometimes it isn’t.

And sometimes the truth is irritatingly in between: your partner didn’t consciously intend the meaning you heard, but something in their tone, expression or choice of words helped put it there.

Relationships would be considerably easier if one person always supplied the reality and the other supplied the distortion.

Unfortunately, we tend to collaborate.

The Text Test

I started calling one way of interrupting this the Text Test.

Originally, I suggested couples literally text the question to each other. I’m no longer particularly attached to the texting part.

The useful part is the test.

When you notice yourself reacting strongly to something your partner said, try separating three things:

What did they actually say?

What did I hear them saying?

What could I ask to find out what they meant?

For Doug:

What Stephanie said:

You’ll get hurt.

What Doug heard:

You don’t think I’m capable.

So rather than defending himself against that conclusion, he might ask:

“Do you think I’m incapable of doing this?”

Maybe Stephanie says:

“No. I think you’re perfectly capable. I’m worried because you’ve never played rugby and rugby players appear to spend a fair amount of time trying to kill each other.”

Useful information.

But maybe she hesitates.

“Well…I do think you sometimes underestimate the physical risks of things.”

Also useful information.

Now they have something to talk about that neither has to invent.

Check Before You Run With It

The Text Test isn’t a way of convincing yourself that you’re overreacting.

Nor is it a technique for proving your partner innocent.

Sometimes you’ll check the story and discover that you read the situation perfectly.

The point is simply to distinguish between what happened, what you experienced, and what you concluded.

All three matter.

If you notice yourself reacting to something your partner didn’t actually say, get curious before building the rest of the argument.

What did they say?

What did you hear?

What made you hear it that way?

And what did they actually mean?

Because sometimes you’re running an old story.

Sometimes your partner is contributing something to it.

And quite often, the interesting part is figuring out where one ends and the other begins.