The Deep History of Pleasure

Today's featured TED Talk is on the origins of pleasure. Speaker Paul Bloom argues that the history of an object (or emotion) influences our experience of the pleasure of it.

He offers some understandable examples: no one wants to own a forged painting, even if it is technically equal or superior to the original. Likewise, a piece of chewed gum is worthless ... unless it was once chewed by Brittney Spears. Then it sells for up to $14,000 on eBay. (Not a bad day's take home pay, huh?)

Here's the video:

Paul Bloom: The origins of pleasure | Video on TED.com

Bloom hints at (but doesn't really develop) the idea that our emotions in relationships are richer because of history as well. Our degree of pleasure - in sex, in laughter, in sharing a milkshake - may be significantly higher simply because we're sharing it with someone whose history is entwined with our own.

This aligns with a thought from David Brooks' new book "The Social Animal": "... when you look deeper into the unconscious, the separations between individuals begin to get a little fuzzy. It becomes ever more obvious that the swirls that make up our own minds are shared swirls. We become who we are in conjunction with other people becoming who they are."

This becoming gets spread out over a lifetime in marriage. And while there are good days and bad days in the midst of it, what a beautiful thing to become who you are, to feel the pleasure build, with another.

Working Women, Stay at Home Dads, and Divorce

When I was in college I spent a very long summer doing a temp job in a doctor's office. One of the doctors, a cardiologist, was a woman. Her husband was a stay at home dad and part-time auto mechanic.

With my small town up bringing, this struck me as odd. And statistically, it was: people tend to marry someone with the same educational level. (See this Freakonomics post, or the pie chart below, from Pew).

Notice, also, that the percentage of women who earn more than their husbands is growing: from 4% in 1970, to 22% in 2007. In 2007, Cliff and I were in that 22% category though we've since switched places.

This research came to mind as I read a recent report (highlighted in this Time Magazine article) about the increased likelihood of divorce for stay at home dads, or men who are unemployed.

In short, working women who are unhappy in their relationships are more likely to leave their marriages. And men who are unhappy not to be working are more likely to leave as well.

I comment on this with caution, as I think the trend toward stay at home fathering should be celebrated. Or, at least, we ought to celebrate that families now have three socially acceptable options: stay at home mom, stay at home dad, or two working parents. Not so long ago, there was really only one acceptable choice: see that data from 1970 as an illustration.

A few months back I heard an NPR piece by a man who, after several years of staying home with his daughter, returned to the workforce with a new job that suddenly made him the family's primary breadwinner. This is a progressive man who felt liberated in his role as a stay at home parent. And yet what was his emotion when he first calculated his new salary? Relief.

The force of his emotion surprised him. More than anything, this should serve as a reminder that our culture has shifted faster than our own psyches. The concept as husband-as-breadwinner is hard to shake, especially for some men, even when their wives are comfortable with alternative models. The pressure this puts on a relationship, when a man is unemployed (willingly or unwillingly) should be acknowledged and discussed. (For a fun take on it, see Cliff's blog, Channeling Your Inner Alan Thicke.)

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

It is practically impossible for a conversation to begin this week in Chicago without mention of the weather. We've blown past "hot," cruised by "melting" and are now sitting squarely in the "surface of the sun" category of weather.

Weather can have a tremendous impact on our moods. Humid weather makes us sleepier. Hot weather makes us angrier. (Mike Ivers, of Good City, once told me his plan for reducing violence on the streets during the summer was to give everyone air conditioning and a video game unit. That just might do the trick.)

All this to say, it's a good week to avoid talking about tough topics, and to just curl up for a nap with your partner instead.

For an actual rundown on what research has to say about weather and our moods, visit this link. 

Three Somewhat Unrelated and Yet Important (at least to me) Thoughts on Happiness

I've been thinking a lot about happiness lately: I was reminded by a speaker at a recent event that happiness psychology (layperson's definition: the study of what makes us happy and how to get/stay in a state of happiness) has grown exponentially. Likewise, I've heard reports on the movement to replace GDP with a happiness index, as a better measurement of a country's well-being.

I applaud both movements. Three cheers for studying happiness. Three cheers for adopting it as an official measure of federal well-being.

And toward both ends, here are my completely unresearched layperson's thoughts on happiness:

1. Happiness is a better measurement of well-being than wealth. 
The old adage is that if we'd be happy if we just had 10% more, but most of us know that's not true. Once you have the iPhone, you want the iPad too. (Guilty.)


2. Neither marriage nor money will make you happy. 
In general life circumstances don't improve (either positively or negatively) on your overall happiness. Studies of lottery winners find that their happiness levels improve after bringing home the big prize, but only briefly: eventually they settle back into roughly the same level of happiness they experienced before.

Likewise, marriage cannot make you happy long term. It's probable that happy married people would have been happy single people, had Mr. or Ms. Right not come along.


3. Your happiness is a really incomplete measure of your marriage's well-being.
It's tempting to think that if you're unhappy, then your marriage must be the problem. Perhaps it is. But perhaps it isn't. It may be that you're lack of fulfillment at work is discoloring your interactions at home. Or that the challenges of parenting (and the multitude of tasks that come with it) are distracting you from each other. It may be that you need a vacation. Changing the marriage won't make you feel more fulfilled at work, more balanced at home, more relaxed overall.

Obviously we all want happy marriages. But sometimes we mistake happy marriages with happy lives. You can't expect your spouse to fix your life for you. In the long run, he (or she) can't make you happy. But you can be happy together.

Wedding Vending Machine: $1/Ceremony

The average American wedding costs around $25,000. (For those of you that remember a certain ceremony in Decatur, IL, about 10 years ago: we were WAY below average.)

If you're not yet married, consider this money-saving option for a $1 vending machine marriage. "Select 1 if 'you do' or press 'escape.'"


AutoWed Wedding Vending Machine by Concept Shed from Conceptshed on Vimeo.

Did You Just Get Lucky?

Last week a friend asked Cliff an intriguing question: do you think your marriage is working because you picked the right person, or because you just got lucky?

I gave up the romantic ideal of there being one right person for me (or anyone else) more than a decade ago. I just don't think God or fate operates that way. So if cosmic forces beyond our control didn't pick my partner, how did I happen to choose such a strong match for me?

The first possible argument is that my selection skills were honed to perfection after 10 years of dating the wrong guys. I knew what I was looking for, found the right combination of assets and personality, and pulled the trigger on marriage.

The challenge to that argument is the idea that at 25 I knew myself well enough, and was well enough able to predict who I'd grow to be, to identify in someone else the specific qualities I most needed or desired. When I look back at some of the wardrobe choices I made in that decade, I have to admit my taste was questionable: there's no reason to think my taste in men was any better.

The second possible argument is that Lady Luck had a hand in the selection process: this perspective leaves long term marital satisfaction to a role of the dice. Either you got it, or you don't.

I'm not comfortable with this argument either: I consciously selected Cliff as a partner, and darn it, I want some credit for picking wisely.

Role of the Dice

I thought of all this earlier this week as I read an editorial by Dr. Neil Clark Warren, founder of eHarmony. (For those of you who don't watch television and have therefore missed the much advertised eHarmony, it's a dating website that uses personality traits to select a match for you.) Warren would say the secret of a long and happy marriage is in picking the right person:

 "... The skill of choosing a marriage partner has often been treated as relatively unimportant in our society and a whole lot less complex than it actually is. And herein lies the secret of why marriage has often turned out so disappointingly for so many." - see full editorial here

I interviewed Warren 10 years ago for an article in Christianity Today, back when online dating was less well-known and less reputable than it is today.  Warren told me, "Finding the right person is such a complex challenge in this society that most people can't do it." To counteract the role of the dice, Warren's service uses a patented set of characteristics to match you with a perfect mate.

eHarmony doesn't provide divorce statistics for their 200+ marriages/day, so it's hard to determine if they succeed at eliminating the luck of the draw from picking a partner. So in lieu of legitimate research you'll have to settle for my opinion:You've got to pick the right person. And you've got to get lucky. And the work doesn't stop after you've said "I do."

There is no secret to a happy marriage, but your prospects can only be aided by starting each day by choosing your spouse again. That's not luck or a rigorous selection process; it's just good common sense. It's also the conclusion of a poem by Wendell Berry - a poem I recently saw hanging on a friend's refrigerator.

“The Wild Rose” – by Wendell Berry

Sometimes, hidden from me in daily custom and in ritual
I live by you unaware, as if by the beating of my heart.
Suddenly you flare again in my sight
A wild rose at the edge of the thicket where yesterday there was only
shade
And I am blessed and choose again,
That which I chose before.

Knowing your place

I probably would have described it as a rustling sound, but my wife most certainly would have used words like "skittering" or "scurrying." Regardless, the noise captured our attention quickly and completely. I honestly cannot even recall what task we were accomplishing or what conversation we were having. But I know we were sitting together at our desk upstairs on a Sunday afternoon. The children were asleep, and the house was quiet...that is, until the noise. While Amber and I would have described the noise differently, we could certainly have agreed on a few things:

1. The noise clearly came from our attic storage area.
2. The noise clearly resulted from a living thing inside said storage area.
3. This was a critical moment in our marriage.
   

I recognize that point number three sounds somewhat extreme, but I am not exaggerating whatsoever. I crawled over to the storage space door with some significant trepidation. Amber was practically cowering in the corner, and anything even remotely resembling a rodent could spell disaster. When I saw a little grey creature moving quickly across the attic doorway, our household officially entered crisis mode. The following exchange probably captures things best.

Amber said, "I am going to the store."

"What about this?" I asked.

"When you married me, you knew the deal. You take care of mice." she answered, "Period."

And that about sums it up. I couldn't really argue the point. Mice were not explicitly mentioned in our marriage vows, but the arrangement was fairly clear nonetheless. Any time a mouse or even a mouse-like creature approached our living space, I would be chiefly responsible for addressing the situation. This has held true for nearly a decade now, in fact. Even when we served as Peace Corps Volunteers in the South Pacific, my wife dealt admirably with snakes, large bugs and less than ideal bathroom conditions. But the large mouse (another terminology debate here: I say "large mouse" she says "small rat') that crept into our kitchen every night for a period of weeks? That was firmly my responsibility. So I was not surprised when my wife fled the premises last Sunday. Clearly, this little animal was my responsibility. You could say that my wife staffed for her weaknesses.

So I grabbed a large bucket and crammed some peanut butter and cheese at the very back. Yes, it was a stretch, but I prefer to attempt humane capture and release first. As I knelt down with the bucket in hand, it occurred to me that every long-term relationship involves unwritten rules like this. My brother has been washing his family's dishes for nearly 20 years now because his wife made that expectation quite clear when they got married. You can probably think of some unwritten rules of your own. These rules and expectations are not really about gender; they are about understanding our limitations and preferences. If two people are going to form a team, they need to understand their roles. As the lone male writer for this website, I will make the requisite sports analogy.

None of the players on the Chicago Bulls' 6 championship teams questioned Michael Jordan having the ball in his hand on the last possession of a closely contested playoff game. Everybody knew their roles. Jordan might pass or he might shoot, but the ball would be his and the choice would be his and the moment would be his. If someone else had questioned that, they would have been quickly set straight. Jordan's responsibilities were quite clear in clutch scoring situations, and my responsibilities were quite clear when rodents surfaced in our household. That's how teams thrive and succeed, after all. It's just essential that those roles are discussed and understood long before that defining moment pops up. For example, I've known rodents were my responsibility for 10 years now.

At any rate, something unexpected happened when I poised my bucket just beyond our attic storage area: a bird quickly fluttered into the bucket and then retreated back into an old pillow case. The whole episode only took a split second, but I breathed easier regardless. Our unsettling noise was a tiny bird! That simple fact would cause my wife to breath (and sleep) easier. I took the pillow case to our back porch, and my son got to witness a small bird escaping onto our steps. The little bird eventually flew up to our garage roof, greeted some other beaked friends and chirped happily at his new found freedom.

When I called my wife to share the story, she said only this, "I have no idea if you're telling the truth, but - if not - it's the best lie you've ever told." What can I say? I know my role.

- Cliff (aka The Husband)

The Case for Taking a Vacation (and how to do it with little kids)

We are freshly returned from vacation - 11 blissful days of no laptops or alarm clocks, and limited iPhone use. Delightful!

I'm an ardent supporter of vacation: I believe in using every possible day I'm given, and making good use of them by disconnecting from work as much as possible. I think it makes me a more productive employee, and probably a better wife too. Turns out vacation is also good for you physically:

A research study looked at 12,000 men over nine years who were at high risk for coronary heart disease. Those who failed to take annual vacations had a 21 percent higher risk of death from all causes and were 32 percent more likely to die of a heart attack.

In women, taking two vacations a year makes you eight times less likely to suffer a heart attack than women who get around to a vacation every six years (or less). 

You can read about both research findings at this New York Times link.

But here's the rub: a restful vacation sometimes sounds like an oxymoron if you have little kids who don't understand the delightful concept of sleeping in. After four years of parenthood, I have two observations:

1. Taking regular just-the-two-of-us vacations is absolutely necessary. Cliff and I are committed to annual 3 or 4 day getaways, without the kids. We're lucky that we have trusted friends and faithful grandparents who practically beg to spend time with Sam and Maggie. With our kids in good hands, we can look forward to enjoying long walks the kids wouldn't normally tolerate, long talks that would bore our four-year old, lazy mornings, and later nights (though, admittedly, I still turn into a pumpkin around 10:30).

2. Vacations with the kids can still be restful if we make a few necessary adjustments. One of our favorite parenting books, The Baby Whisperer, talks about creating a household that isn't kid-centered or parent-centered, but rather family-centered. We try for the same approach to vacations. Some kid activities, some modified grownup activities, and lots of time to rest between them.

For what it's worth, here are a few things we've found to be particularly helpful in making family vacation restful and enjoyable for the grownups:

• Pay extra to get a suite at the hotel: one bedroom suites cost about $30 more a night than a hotel room, but it's a lot cheaper than paying a divorce lawyer later on. (Okay, that's hyperbole.) Once the kids are asleep in one room, Cliff and I can relax with a movie or a novel. We've also been known to sneak dessert into the room for a late night treat.
  
  
• Plan a busy morning and a lazy afternoon: while on a trip to Beijing, we discovered the delights of slowing down for a toddler's schedule: naps! We have a scheduled activity in the morning, grab lunch out and then settle down for naps or novels while our kids rest. They're awake again in the late afternoon, leaving time for more site seeing or swimming. As a result of this relaxed schedule, we get more rest than we ever do at home.
  
  
• Go somewhere you have friends: our last three kid-vacations (Beijing, Cincinnati, Denver) have been to places where we have good friends or family. We offset extra hotel costs by camping in their guest rooms for a few nights. Long conversations after the kids go to bed are a highlight of the trips. And (bonus!) the children of our friends and family often step in to play with or babysit our little ones, giving us a little extra R&R.
  
  
• Unplug: whether you're traveling with or without your kids, it's worth mentioning that real rest requires letting yourself relax. Cliff and I practiced giving each other the evil eye when our iPhones began getting more attention than the people around us. And, because part of our recent vacation was spent at home, I had to unplug the part of my brain that thinks in "to do lists." The result? Cliff told me he liked "Amber on vacation." (Of course I asked how he felt about "Amber not on vacation," and he assured me he likes her too.)

As you probably know, we have a 4 year old and an 18 month old. I'm sure vacations will change as our kids develop more vocal opinions and later bedtimes. I'd love to hear from parents of older kids about how you manage grownup relaxation too.