For three months, things were going really well with this man I was dating. He'd introduced me to his daughter. We'd even planned a trip together. And then he just disappeared. I eventually texted him to find out what happened, but he simply texted back, "Really busy, all good." This isn't the first time this has happened to me or my girlfriends. Why do men do this? Why don't they tell you what's really going on?
--Upset
When a guy just cuts you off like a bad tree limb, it's tempting to come up with ego-cushioning explanations: He's in a coma! He's trapped in a wooded gully in his crashed car! He's being interrogated at a CIA black site! ("Sorry...Mr. Jones is getting a series of painful electric shocks to his nipples right now and cannot come to the phone.")
However, the best explanation for this man's disappearance is probably textbook stuff -- psych textbook, that is, and specifically a couple of personality traits. One of these is "conscientiousness." And the bad side of the spectrum is being "low in conscientiousness" -- psychologists' term for a person who is careless, irresponsible, impulsive, and lacking in self-control and who habitually ducks his obligations (as if they were flaming arrows).
The other trait is the unfortunately named "psychopathy." Though it calls to mind shower-stabbing hobbyists, it doesn't necessarily lead to murderous rampages. Still, it isn't exactly the personality trait of angelic hospice nurses, as it's marked by exploitiveness, aggression, poor impulse control, self-centeredness, and a lack of empathy.
Low conscientiousness and psychopathy partner up into an inability or unwillingness to admit to being wrong. Apologizing takes emotional strength and character strength -- the conscientiousness and empathy that leave the wrongdoer feeling borderline queasy until they come clean and express remorse to the person they hurt.
It isn't just men who do the disappearo thing; it's anyone low on conscientiousness. The problem is, when love appears to be on the horizon, we want to believe more than we want to see. It's helpful to take an almost pessimistic approach to any new relationship: Assume a man has flaws; figure out what they are; and decide whether any are deal breakers. This takes observing his behavior over time (at least a year) in a variety of situations -- especially crisis situations. You want to know that when the chips are down, a man'll have your back -- and not just to use you as a human shield so the SWAT team snipers won't pick him off.
Every photo my boyfriend takes of me is horrific (one eye kind of shut, bad angle of my face, etc.). My female friends take decent pictures of me, so it's not like it's impossible. I know my boyfriend loves me and thinks I'm beautiful. Could he be trying to keep other men from being attracted to me?
--Occasional Bride Of Frankenstein
You'd think you wouldn't have to give a man who loves you a detailed list of instructions for photographing you -- down to "immediately erase any shots in which I look like I'm having a seizure or bear a strong resemblance to a surprised goat."
In fact, you are far from alone in complaining that the man you love takes terrible pictures of you -- or in worrying that it means something. However, this worry of yours probably comes out of what I call our mind's neatfreakitude. Research by cognitive neuroscientist Michael Gazzaniga suggests we get so itchy over mental chaos -- being in a state of uncertainty about someone or something -- that we're quick to sweep aside inconsistencies and ignore missing information in service of creating a coherent narrative. And then (conveniently!) we turn right around and go with the story we've created -- in this case, the suspicion that your boyfriend is plotting to make you look uggo in photographs.
The reality is, if you aren't a professional model being shot by a professional photographer, it sometimes takes dozens of shots to have even one you don't want to delete in horror. (Shoot my long face from above, as my boyfriend sometimes forgets and does, and I look like a movie star -- the horse that played Seabiscuit.)
Because men evolved to prioritize physical attractiveness in women and women coevolved to expect this, women are extremely sensitive to being photographed in ways that don't show them off at their sparkliest. That's probably why, if you glance at various 20-something women's Instagram pages, you'll see that many strike the very same pose in photo after photo (having figured out their exact best angle, to the micrometer). Sure, some men are as acutely sensitive about engineering their perfect pose -- mostly those whose work attire is a sequined evening dress, a ginormous feather boa, and chandelier earrings the size of New Jersey.
I have a history of terrible relationships that end in awful heartbreak. The advice I keep getting is to date down -- get together with a man who is less attractive than I am and who likes me a little more than I like him. I was kind of into the idea of equality on all levels, but maybe I'm wrong.
--Rethinking Woman
After you've had your heart broken, it's tempting to opt for romantic safety measures. For example, a garden gnome could be an ideal partner -- because few women will fight you for your 18-inch "Man of Resin" and because his stubby little legs are molded together, making it impossible for him to run away.
There's a name for this "dating down" thing you're contemplating: "the principle of least interest." This is sociologist Willard Waller's term -- from his observations of dating dynamics between college students -- describing how whichever partner is the least emotionally attached is in a position to "exploit" the other.
Now, you aren't looking to clean out a guy's bank account or make him scrub the baseboards with Barbie's toothbrush. Regardless, you're likely to have more power in any relationship -- and be less likely to be the exploitee -- if your response to a guy's "I love you SO much!" involves polite gratitude or pointing skyward: "Look! A UFO!"
The problem is, how do you engineer this sort of situation? Only "swiping right" on men you have the lukewarmies for? Only accepting dates from men you don't entirely respect? Of course, even an "I'm just not that into you" strategy like this isn't foolproof, because what anthropologists call "mate value" can shift -- like when the mouth-breathing nerdy loser becomes the mouth-breathing but unexpectedly sexy startup multigazillionaire.
Tempting as it is to look for hacks to avoid heartbreak, it's probably more helpful to look at whether there was anything you could've -- and should've -- done differently in your past relationships. (Were there red flags you spotted and then dropped off at Goodwill with the weird tablecloth from your aunt?)
Beyond any willful blindness on your part, the reality is, relationships sometimes end in heartbreak. It's just the price of getting together with a man you love and lust after -- as opposed to one you approached with "You know, I've always kinda pitied you and found you borderline sexually repellant. Whaddya say we get a beer?"
There's a mutual attraction between this guy in my doctoral program and me, and we have great conversations. I'd date him, but he's in a long-distance relationship. Recently, he started giving driving lessons to earn extra cash. I need to learn to drive a stick shift, so I signed up. This has morphed into our spending time together on weekends, having lunch, etc. My friends say this is a bad idea. But I guess I'm just following my heart. Is that so wrong to do?
--Crushing
"Follow your heart!" is like that "forget about money; do what you love!" professional advice. And go right ahead with that career in lentil sculpture -- assuming you're looking forward to spending your golden years in a very nice retirement tent.
As for all this time the guy is spending with you, consider that we seem to have evolved to have the romantic version of a spare tire in the trunk -- a "backup mate" (to the partner we're with). Evolutionary psychologists David Buss and Joshua Duntley explain that "mates might cheat, defect" (run off with another), "leave, or die. They might suddenly drop in mate value." Their research finds that both men and women seem to maintain backup mates -- three on average -- and "try to keep their backup mates out of other relationships" (like by giving them false hope during automotive lurchings around the parking lots of closed superstores).
You might also consider that there's more to making yourself attractive to a potential boyfriend than a few swipes of MAC and Maybelline. Social psychologist Robert Cialdini, reflecting on what he calls "the scarcity principle," points out that we value is what seems out of reach (as opposed to what's all over us like orange "cheese product" on a kid's veggies): "Study after study shows that items and opportunities are seen to be more valuable as they become less available."
In other words, until a man is girlfriend-free, it's in your best interest to be about as accessible to him as the upholstery of my late Grandma Pauline's couch was to the rumps of most of humanity. There were people she would remove the plastic covering for -- visiting movie stars and members of the British royal family (a la "I'm bored with St. Barts. How about a slushy January in suburban Detroit?").
A guy I know through mutual friends finally asked for my number, claiming he'd like to see more of me. I was elated, but he never called. After a month, I gave up hope, feeling puzzled and, honestly, kind of hurt. Why do men get your number if they're never going to call or text?
--Uncontacted
Men can experience a sort of temporary amnesia in the moment, leading them to ask you for your number. Shortly afterward, their memory returns: "Oh, wait -- I have a girlfriend." Or "My herpes is raging." Or "The mob is still after me. The Canadian mob." (They gag you and duct-tape you to a chair and say "please" and "thank you" repeatedly until you pass out.)
Of course, it isn't just men who are prone to ride the "seemed like a good idea at the time" seesaw. It's anyone with a human brain. This asking for your number and then never actually dialing it thing appears to be an example of our brain's two systems at work -- our quick-to-react emotional system and our slower-to-come-around reasoning system, which I wrote about in a recent column, per the research of psychologist Daniel Kahneman.
Again, the fast emotional system responds immediately -- and automatically: "Yeah, baby! There's a woman whose clothes I'd like to see in a pile on my bedroom rug." Or, if the lust is for a little head-busting: "BARRRR FIGHT!" The rational system comes around later, often for a little rethink about whatever the emotional system got the person into -- like when the bar brawler dude is cooling his heels in the slammer, seeing as how the collections bail bondsmen will accept as collateral do not include all the toenail clippings one has saved since 1999.
In other words, it helps to view any request for your number as a moment of flattery -- nothing more. Don't expect a guy to call. In fact, expect most not to call. If they don't call, you'll be right. If they do, you'll be pleasantly surprised, like getting that winning lottery scratcher that allows you to buy that Lamborghini you've been eyeing -- the whole car, not just the logo-adorned leather key ring to attach to the keys for your 3,000-year-old Honda.
I have a very good friend -- a friend who shows up for me in big ways when the chips are down. However, she is very judgmental and offers her opinion on everything from how I should groom my cat to why I shouldn't get Botox. I wouldn't presume to tell her how to cut her hair or treat her dogs -- unless she asked. Her comments often hurt my feelings. How do I gently get her to stop acting like my vet, my beautician, etc.?
--Annoyed
It must be tempting to ask her: "Hey, wanna come over on Thursday night? I'll do a stir-fry, and we can watch Netflix...or you can do an hour on why my new haircut was a tragic mistake and how (for the fourth time!) the couch should be against the other wall."
Friendly advice is not always as, uh, other-serving as it's made out to be. Communications researcher Matthew M. Martin emphasizes that "people communicate to satisfy personal needs." He notes that previous research identified six basic "interaction motives (why people have conversations with others)": pleasure, affection, inclusion, relaxation, control, and escape (like ditching your own problems to fixate on what a hot mess your friend is).
Research by social psychologist Sonja Lyubomirsky, among others, suggests it's in our self-interest to be helpful. Helping feels good in the moment (the "pleasure" motive). Also, the sort of happiness with staying power -- the feeling that our life has meaning -- comes from extending ourselves for others rather than, say, shoving 'em out of the way and chasing happiness for ourselves (like by amassing more shoes or buying a new set of boobs).
Of course, if it is the pleasure motive driving your friend, it may come from a darker place -- like a desire to show off and act superior -- which may dovetail with "the control motive," which, Martin explains, "involves the need to influence others and to be viewed by others as competent."
Regardless, you don't owe anyone your attention -- not even a compulsively helpful "very good friend." Wait until a moment when you aren't ducking flying tips. Tell her that you love that she's trying to look out for you but that her values aren't necessarily your values. Accordingly, you have a new policy: No more unsolicited advice, except in emergencies. Qualifying situations call for brief, life-preserving warnings -- such as "watch out" or "duck!" -- not the longer-winded constructive tips offered in so-called "fashion emergencies": "Have you seen yourself from behind? You'd best rethink those pants, doll."
I'm a married gay woman. Whenever I ask my wife to discuss some problem in our relationship, she'll say, "Can we talk about this tomorrow" (or "later")? Of course, there's never a "tomorrow." I end up feeling resentful, and this makes even a minor issue turn into a big deal. Help.
--Postponed
Putting things off is a relief in the moment but usually costs you big-time in the long run -- like when you procrastinate in going to the dermatologist until the mole on your neck has a girlfriend and a dog.
Procrastination -- the "See ya later, alligator!" approach to problem-solving -- is defined by psychologists as voluntarily delaying some action we need to take, despite our knowing that doing this will probably make the ultimate outcome much worse. Procrastinating seems seriously dumb, right? But consider the sort of tasks we put off. Chances are, nobody needs to nag you 45 times to eat cake or have what you're pretty sure will be mind-blowing sex.
Research by social scientists Fuschia Sirois and Timothy Pychyl suggests that procrastination is a form of mood management -- a knee-jerk emotional reaction to emotional stress that involves putting "short-term mood repair over long-term goal pursuit."
I know -- not exactly the stuff Valentine's Day cards are made of. But focus on the "knee-jerk" aspect of the mood management response. Psychologist Daniel Kahneman explains that our brain has two systems -- an instinctive, fast-responding emotional system that jumps right in and a slower rational system that we have to force to do its job.
That's because reasoning -- applying judgment to some dreaded problem -- takes what Kahneman calls "mental work." We have to make ourselves focus on the problem and then put cognitive energy into figuring things out. That's a grim chore -- the antithesis of a mood booster. And that's probably why there's a term "pay attention!" but there's no "pay emotion!" Emotion is automatic. It just busts out, all "An issue to discuss? Oh, wouldja look at the time?! I believe I'm five minutes late for moving to Florida!"
Because personality traits tend to be consistent over time and across situations, chances are, your wife has a habit of ducking all sorts of emotionally uncomfortable stuff. Understanding this -- as well as why we procrastinate -- can help you see her ducking as a human flaw rather than a sign that a particular human doesn't love her wife.
To keep resentment from poisoning your relationship, when she says "tomorrow..." say, "Awesome, babe. What time works for you?" Maybe even have a regular weekly wine 'n' chat. Ideally, the conversations should mostly be lovey-dovey, not the sort she prefers to have on the third Tuesday in never: "Okay, I could have my toenails pulled out with rusty pliers or have this conversation. This isn't to say I'm dreading it; I just want to give some thought to how attached I am to wearing open-toe shoes."
I'm a 33-year-old guy on the dating scene, looking for a relationship. I'm pretty picky, so most of my dating isn't going past the three-week mark. My problem is that it seems mean to call a woman and tell her why I'm not interested, but it also seems mean to just ghost -- disappear on her without telling her why. What's a good and kind way to end things?
--Nice Dude
It's disappointing when a prospective relationship isn't working, but it's much worse when it just disappears. Can you imagine coming home one day and your stove is just...gone?
"Ghosting" somebody you've been dating -- vanishing forever, sans explanation -- cues what psychologists call the "Zeigarnik effect," which describes the mind's habit of annoying us (over and over and over) to get "closure" when we have unfinished business.
Some people "ghost" because they have all the conscience of a deer tick; others believe (or tell themselves) that it's kinder than laying out exactly why they're done. But consider that when moving on, you only need to communicate one essential thing: There will be no more of you in their future.
Should a woman press you for further info, stick to vague explanations -- "spark just wasn't there" -- instead of going into detail about, say, how her breath reminds you of a decomposing gerbil. Also to be avoided are explanations that give a woman hope that your vamoosage is temporary -- for example, telling her you have to end it with her because you still aren't over your ex. That can lead to a closure of sorts -- of the zipper on the tent she's pitched on the grassy area in the middle of your cul-de-sac. (Stalker? Um, she prefers "watchful urban camper.")