The goal of the game is to keep the sum. You keep the sum by noticing who’s low.
Partner and I play a game: we try to keep our sum competence level the same.
On a normal day, she’s the one who tells strangers their dog isn’t actually a schnauzer — it’s just cut like one. She’s the one who’d google the laws on dog-deterrents in the tree box, to get the annoying ones removed.
Today we met with a doctor, and afterwards she wanted to curl up in a ball. So she went to our cave of a bedroom, where she either napped or fiddled on her phone. And today I was the one who googled the dog-deterrent laws. I didn’t spot the schnauzer — I didn’t know to look. But the gym got visited, and we got fed. The sum held.
It goes the other direction too. Yesterday I noped out of what I usually handle — navigating, picking the food place — and she took us to Whole Foods where we bought my favorite oranges.
I don’t think this is an accident (at least on my side). When she’s doing well, we’d both rather I spend my attention elsewhere. When she’s doing worse, it’s worth the effort.
One question this raises: if one of us is very competent, is it worthwhile for the other to be negative?
I assume no, but let’s investigate.
What’s the benefit to un-competence? Not merely the lack, but the negative.
One piece is fun. Competence is goal-oriented. Un-competence is expansive, innovative, novel. Competence lifts the weight and puts it back down, thereby strengthening the muscle. Un-competence learns there is such a thing as standing on one’s head.
Sometimes standing on one’s head raises new understanding of human biology. Sometimes un-competence creates a new joke.
I wonder if other people play a similar game in their relationships. Or if it’s just me — if I’d do this with anyone.
It doesn’t strike me as a bad approach. If anything, it’s quite elegant.
Game on.
Julian Wise 