Page 35 of Seven Rules for a Perfect Marriage
Sex and intimacy have to be a priority, even when life gets in the way
Jack
Dinner is prepared by a chef they’ve brought in, who presents us with some incredible beef thing (delicious, tiny, I could still manage an entire pizza) paired with some massively expensive wine (delicious and by contrast, very generous) and then leaves the kitchen completely spotless. Everyone seems to be getting on well with their other halves, considering we’re on a My Marriage is in Trouble holiday. I do wonder if perhaps the simple fact of not having any domestic duties might be making us all happier. Usually at this point in a weekend Jessica and I have already had a row because she’s changed where ‘we’ keep a utensil without telling me about this unilateral decision, or because I’ve insisted on keeping last week’s newspapers to catch up on. There’s the ongoing war about whether it’s okay to leave pans to soak (obviously I say yes, she says no) and the perennial dishwasher-stacking debate. None of them are moral failings, we’re not going to break up over them or anything, but they’re the kind of microfights which make the whole thing feel heavy and hard, like thousands of tiny paper cuts. It’s only now we’re here, and there’s nothing small to fight about, that I realise quite how much they all add up.
After we’ve eaten, we move into one of the snugs, a room with massive great sofas and a log burner, which I read recently is terrible for lung health but makes it all feel quite cosy. The walls are mostly glass but it’s so eco and high-tech that they’re warm to the touch. I’m worried that everyone is having too nice a time and is too relaxed to be up for this evening’s task, which involves starting a massive row with your other half.
Suze rolls in, having declined dinner with everyone else in favour of a protein shake and replying to emails in the kitchen. Her work ethic is staggering.
‘I’m sure everyone is looking forward to some downtime this evening after our antics out on the water today,’ she says, with the air of a primary school teacher. ‘But we’re not just here to relax. So, on to the next rule!’
No one seems enthused, but Suze ploughs on, reading off a cue card. ‘The old saying tells us to never go to bed angry, but it’s actually much worse to stay up late, going over the same ground, getting too tired to make sense of the argument and then waking up in a bad mood because you didn’t get enough sleep. So tonight you’re going to tackle this practically.’
Ken murmurs that he’s much more of a morning person and doesn’t feel his best late at night anyway and Chloe says she’s the same. The rest of them nod in agreement.
‘Jess?’ says Suze. ‘Did you want to introduce the activity?’
‘Yes,’ she says, almost convincingly. ‘Yes, absolutely. So, Jack and I believe that one of the keys to positive arguments is to approach them prepped and ready. That means you’ve had something to eat, and you’ve had a good night’s sleep. Never fight hungry or tired.’
It’s actually incredibly good advice, when I hear her say it like this.
‘Now I should say,’ Jess tries again to garner some enthusiasm, ‘this doesn’t mean that you just bury the problem. You need to wake up in good time the next morning so that you can have a proper, calm, sensible discussion about what started the fight, once you’ve had a decent sleep and a change of scene. This isn’t about avoiding the fight, it’s about rescheduling it until you’re ready for it.’
‘I’m already almost asleep,’ says Sue cheerfully from her armchair. ‘I don’t think I’ve got another activity in me.’
‘Maybe we could leave it for tonight?’ Stuart ventures.
I drag myself to my feet with superhuman effort. ‘Come on, guys. We’ve got the rest of our lives to chill on the sofa. We’re here to do some work. Let’s crack on.’
Jess looks surprised, which is a fairly damning indication of how helpful I’ve been recently.
‘Jess?’ I gesture. ‘Shall we?’
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘So, we’re going to ask that you go and find space in the house, somewhere you feel you’re private and comfortable, and then we need you to start a fight.’
Everyone laughs.
‘I know.’ Jessica laughs too. ‘I get it. But you need to start a fight. And then, once you’re full flow, I want you to stop it and go to bed. Then you can wake up refreshed and settle it before breakfast.’
‘It just sounds so mad,’ Chloe says from her sofa, where she’s positioned slightly closer to Ben than she was when I last noticed them sitting together.
‘I get it,’ I say, before Jessica can jump in. ‘But just give it a go. That’s why we’re here, right?’
Everyone stands up, stretching, still very much not in the mood. But they file out, their voices moving across the house. And then it’s just me and Jessica, standing in the snug, alone.
‘So,’ I say, standing closer to her, so I can smell the dry citrus scent she wears, the one she’d just started wearing when we first met because she’d read that some French actress wore it.
‘So,’ she replies.
‘We have to go and have a row.’
‘We’re usually quite good at that,’ she says, smiling up at me.
‘Yes.’ I smile too. ‘We are.’ I grab her hand and lead her through the corridor, up the stairs to a nook on the landing next to our bedroom. ‘Go on,’ I encourage her. ‘Let’s fight.’
She just stands there.
‘I mean it,’ I say, taking her hands.
