The Torture of the Holidays: It's All Relative...

Dear Philip:

Though most people dread the shopping or the cooking or the mad dash to see everyone they know, the only thing about the holidays that fills me with terror is my husband’s uncle.  Uncle Richard comes to our house and makes everyone miserable.  He picks fights about politics, he tries to hurry up Christmas dinner so that he can get back on the road, he says very ugly things, and he speaks horribly to his wife, which makes all of us uncomfortable.

Though my husband has put up with him for a few decades, I’m worried that one of these years they’ll come to blows.  Christmas is already stressful enough.  How do we deal with horrible Uncle Richard without ruining the holiday?

Already Stressed

Dear Already,

If you really want to solve the problem of Uncle Richard, you’ll need four things: plastic sheeting, a shovel, a large bag of lye, and an alibi.

(On advice of council, I hereby state that the preceding sentence was a joke.  Mostly.)

All of us have dealt – or are still dealing – with a toxic relative or two at the holidays.  They can turn any family gathering into the Bataan Death March, making us count the hours until we can send them on their way, with most of our leftovers (and patience) in tow.  Know above all else that you are not alone.

Know also that you are not completely helpless.  Though there’s no single way to stave off the Monster Who Destroyed Christmas, there are ways to lessen the damage he does, and there are positives to be taken from the ordeal he presents.  The trick here is to do some preparation.  This involves anticipating the trouble spots – do they come at the table? after two (or five) beers? does he have a usual target? – and brainstorming ways of avoiding them.  Preparing also involves communicating with your family well before Uncle Richard shows up.

Chiefly, I’m thinking about your poor husband.  One of the reasons he wants to punch his uncle every year is that it’s HIS uncle: he’s embarrassed by his blood relation to the troublemaker.  In some way, he feels responsible.  So tell him he’s not.  Also let him know that you feel for his aunt, the woman who gets to put up with his uncle’s nonsense not just at the holiday table, but all year long.  After all, she’s the only reason that the jerk is still invited.  That’s not a small point: when you let your husband know that you not only empathize, but you also see the good in inviting his aunt every year, it’ll take some of his anxiety away.

When you get closer to the big day, strategize with all family members old enough to be in danger of engaging with Uncle Dick.  Come up with a plan for recognizing the start of potential conflict, and for either deflecting – the quick subject change works well, here – or literally walking away.  (“Excuse me; I just remembered something I have to do,” is my go-to.) By talking this stuff through before you need it, you’re letting your family know that no one has to face the relative from Hell alone.  Think of it as team building: you’re Team Rational.

Because we are all products of our childhood experiences, it’s important that there are a few fights you don’t avoid.  I’m thinking specifically of the “ugly things” your husband’s uncle likes to say, and how you respond to them in front of your kids.  If Uncle Richard is talking as if he’s about to don either a white sheet or a swastika, you need to speak up immediately.  The magic word is “unacceptable.”  As in, “Uncle Richard, that’s enough.  That talk is unacceptable.”  You’re not inviting him to discuss his bigotry further, you’re putting your foot down. If he persists, let him know he’s free to leave.  If he takes you up on that…problem solved!

If all else fails, of course, I’ll be your alibi if you’ll be mine.

Happy holidays,

       Philip

Trying to be Miss Right, Not Miss Right Now

Dear Philip:

I am a single woman in my 40s. I haven’t lived in the area long and don’t know many people, so I have been using Match.com.  What I have found is that most of the men who respond to my profile on this site and sites like it are only looking for hook-ups.  It is really depressing how many times I have corresponded with someone who seemed very nice, but within a few messages started to get very sexual.  Even when I try to ignore the comments and steer the conversation back to an appropriate place, they don’t get the hint.

How do I let someone I’m interested in know that I find that kind of communication inappropriate?

Tired of the Game

Dear Tired,

Here’s the short version: you don’t bother letting them know, because you immediately stop being interested in them, and you move on.

Here’s the long version:  oh, Tired, I feel for you.  You believe – because you’re an optimist – that if you just use a little reason, you can curb the piggishness of the men you’ve been finding through online dating and show them that you’re a real person, worthy of an adult relationship.  That you’re Miss Right.  The reality, though, is that the majority of men on Match.com – and eHarmony, and other similar sites – are looking for Miss Right Now.  Anecdotal evidence suggests that they have plenty of success.

If anyone wants confirmation of the old axiom that women use sex to get love and men use love to get sex, then about twenty minutes on an internet-based dating service should do the trick.  The web has taken dating from something that’s traditionally social – that is, our friends fix us up, and we conduct ourselves with the understanding that our friends are paying attention – to something that’s “social” only in the smugly-modern sense of the word: we look for mates in a virtual room full of strangers, who often use the cloak of anonymity to satisfy their basest impulses.

Your problem is that you’re refusing to see honesty: people will often tell you exactly who they are, if you’ll let them.  The guys that get sexual in their communication with women they’ve never met?  They’re not looking for relationships.  They’re telling you as much.  So listen.  Stop trying to give random strangers the benefit of the doubt, and instead, be grateful that they’ve accurately communicated their personalities to you before you’ve gone to the trouble of meeting them for a drink.

In fact, Tired, I’ve got a homework assignment for you.  For at least the next month, practice zero tolerance when you use an internet dating site.  The moment someone you haven’t met goes past mildly flirtatious and becomes openly sexual, tell ’em, “Thanks, anyway,” and move on.  If you’re truly tired of the game, then change the rules to your advantage.  Online dating, after all, is a numbers game…and by refusing to waste time in the vain attempt to get piggish men to behave, you’ll have more time to sift through and find the guys – and they’re out there – who know how to talk to a lady.

Platonically yours,

Philip

Dear Philip:

Our daughter’s friend is a classmate whose parents are known for their nasty, often litigious fights with neighbors.  We don’t want to have anything to do with that family, but our daughter thinks we’re being unfair to a child who hasn’t done anything wrong.  Who’s right?

Nervous

Dear Nervous:

With apologies to Renée Zellweger, you had me at “litigious.” You’re both right: you should probably stay away from that family, and that’s unfair to your daughter’s friend. The unfairness, however, isn’t of your making.  Explain to your daughter that some people involve the courts in every dispute, which can be agonizing and expensive.  Tell her that you simply can’t afford the risk of having anything happen to her friend in your house, or of something happening to her at her friend’s house.  Then tell her how sad the situation makes you feel.

Hoping that’s settled (out of court), 

Philip 

When to Unfriend? Navigating the Politics of (and on) Facebook

Dear Philip:

I used to enjoy Facebook.  Now I find the most horrible political postings from people that I otherwise like.  I am shocked by the nasty, hateful things that some of my “friends” post, and I wish I didn’t know this about them.  Do I unfriend them, or just not look at Facebook until after the election?

Shocked and Dismayed

Dear S.A.D.,

Isn’t it amazing how, thanks to modern technology, just about anyone can become the jerky Uncle who ruins Thanksgiving every year?  To quote a former president, I feel your pain: I’ve taken advantage of that newest verb in our lexicon and unfriended more than a few Facebook buddies over the stuff they feel the need to share with the world.

Here are my rough guidelines for navigating political “talk” in the age of social media.  If a Facebook friend posts something that disagrees with my beliefs, but is respectful and/or interesting, that’s swell.  Appreciated, even.  After all, those who seek only confirmation of their own views tend to be uninformed…and are usually proud of their ignorance. I’d rather not fall into that camp.  If a friend posts something that puts down my candidate, but is mild and funny, that’s fine, too.  When we start to creep into open – and personal – derision, I have to think about whether I like that person enough to let them bring me down whenever I come across one of their posts. 

Here’s my automatic “you’re outta here” trigger: If someone on my roster of Facebook friends reposts hateful, racist, homophobic, extreme garbage, especially from a fourth-rate political blog, they’re gone.  Doesn’t matter if they live down the street or if I had a crush on them in high school.  (Which happened, by the way: a girl I mooned over as a teenager turns out to be about as ugly on the inside as she was beautiful on the outside.  Finding that out sort of retroactively ruined the crush, you know?)

Obviously, politics are a minefield.  Four years ago, I was honored to be the guest speaker at our library’s annual meeting, and I played a little prank on the crowd.  In closing, I said, “I know we’re not supposed to discuss these things in public, but in the spirit of community, I’d like to share something.”  My parents shrunk a little, right in the front row.  “I know we’re coming to the end of a long, hard-fought contest – and I know that around here, my guys are not exactly the favorites.”  My wife looked daggers at me, not knowing where I was headed.  “I feel it’s important nevertheless,” I continued, “to support my side.”  Arctic doesn’t begin to describe the chill that developed in that room.  And then I leaned forward, put on the baseball cap I’d hidden in the podium, and shouted, “Go, Red Sox!”

I got a big laugh, which grew louder when I added, “Did you think I meant something else?”

Here’s the thing that ultimately made my joke not that funny…but very interesting.  At least four people informed my folks afterward that if I’d actually mentioned the candidates they didn’t support, they would have stood up and walked out.  I was floored: have we grown so intolerant of anything or anyone who disagrees with us that the mere mention of the other side will cause us to be angry and rude?

The answer, I’m afraid, can be found in some of the stuff posted on social media.  Here’s hoping that our ability to reject the worst of that stuff by using the unfriend button will promote tolerance on Facebook.  Better spelling would be nice, too.

Bipartisanly yours,

Philip

Dear Philip:

So, give us a prediction.  Who’s going to win this thing?

Eager to Know

Dear Eager:

Right now, my money’s on the terrific “Argo,” though I suspect Spielberg’s “Lincoln” will give it a run.  I’m really hoping that “Les Miserables” ends up as a strong contender, too.  But we’ll just have to see.

Wait: did you mean something else?

Get thee to the polls!

Philip 

You Down with OPK? (Not Me - No Way!)

Dear Philip:

When is it okay to discipline someone else’s child?  My husband gets aggravated when our son’s friends misbehave, and is in the habit of telling them to “knock it off.”  He has even done so when those children’s parents are present.  I agree with him that some of our son’s friends are overindulged and that their parents should be keeping them in line, but I think he is overstepping his bounds.

 Not Our Problem

Dear Not,

Here’s what you left out of your letter: your husband’s contact information.  Clearly, he’s a guy I’d like to hang with...especially at a child’s birthday party.  I’m with him on this one, to a point.

For folks trying to raise their sons and daughters to be people who respect others and live within reasonable boundaries, nothing is as aggravating as OPK (Other People’s Kids).  They’re why your efforts seem undone at the end of certain school days, and why your child comes home from parties with a new list of demands and a bad case of what our folks called “smart mouth.”  In other words, OPK really are your problem.

Before we get to your husband, though, let’s talk about the essential service that the brattiest of your son’s friends provide.  To be perfectly Oprah about it, the behavior of OPK makes for great teachable moments: the trick is to focus your teaching on labeling the behavior and not the child, no matter how appropriate the words “spoiled brat” might seem.

Here’s an example: You’re in the cereal aisle when you and your son witness the classic supermarket power struggle not 25 feet in front of you.  There’s mother and daughter, and daughter is grabbing the sugary-est of sugar cereals, yelling shrilly over her mother’s protestations until they’re literally having a tug of war over a box with a Cap’n on it.  Now, you can’t very well step in, because it isn’t your business, and because there’s no potential for serious harm.  (Except maybe to your eardrums.)  What you can do is turn your cart around, head to another aisle, and have a chat with your son.  “That was very upsetting,” you might start.  Then go with a question: “Do you think that’s how to get your way?  By whining and carrying on?”  Notice that you’ve just posed a question that has a built in answer…and all kinds of implicit condemnation.

But no name-calling.  By labeling the behavior as whiny, you’ve made it clear to your own child that acting out like that is unacceptable to you, and you’ve done it in a way that’s firm, but almost collaborative.  You didn’t lecture your son – who wasn’t misbehaving! – with some form of “You’d better never do that,” but instead gave him an opportunity to see how upset brattiness makes you.  In short, you made him feel warned and not blamed.

When your son is in a group, though, and the play is getting either rough or inconsiderate, you and your husband have every right to step in…though again, to correct the behavior, and not label a child.  “Knock it off” shows disapproval of what’s going on; it’s not a blanket condemnation of the kids.  I wrote that I’m with your husband “to a point,” because I think “knock it off” isn’t enough, and correction should come with an explanation.  I’m fond of “Hey, guys?  This is a store, not a playground.  Settle.”  I’ve also been known to throw out a judicious, “That’s not what that’s meant for.  Treat our stuff respectfully.”  For me, the rule of thumb is always this: if my child is either involved or within earshot, I step in to stuff that makes me uncomfortable.  I’m not trying to teach anyone else’s children, I’m trying to teach my own where the boundaries are.

Finally, let me add that I think you used the word “discipline” incorrectly: when your husband cries “knock it off!” in the middle of a group of rowdy kids, he’s attempting to stop behavior, but he’s not punishing OPK.

Unfortunately for all of us, neither are their parents.

Yours in peace and quiet,

Philip

The Split That Keeps on Giving

Dear Philip:

My friend has been going through a messy divorce, and she turns to me for advice all the time.  She calls constantly and even shows up at my house uninvited, always to complain about her split.  I feel terrible for her and want to help, but I’m starting to notice that even after I’m sure I HAVE helped, or at least gotten her to see things in a way that will make her feel better, she’s back to her same complaints a few days later.  I’ve also noticed that when I have to cut her off because I have other things to do, she gets angry and accuses me of not realizing how hard her life is.

It has gotten to the point where I don’t know if I’m helping, or if I can take much more of the complaining.  Am I a bad friend?    

 Tired and Talked Out

Dear Tired,

Divorce is not unlike smoking: nobody warns us about the dangers of secondhand misery, you know?  It sounds like your friend is sucking you dry.  You’ve tried listening, but it’s never enough.  You’ve expressed your logical opinions, and found that they never sink in.  Talking with her leaves you feeling tired, stressed, and – let’s be honest – a little angry.

Before figuring out how to proceed, let’s tackle the two questions you ask in your letter.  The first is whether or not you’re helping your friend, and the answer is yes…but maybe not in the way you’d hoped.  You’ve been acting under the false notion that she wants answers; that your advice will provide some kind of a roadmap out of the emotional thicket she finds herself in.  You keep hoping that if you just apply enough logic, she’ll get through the tough stuff.  What’s become clear, though, is that she’s not looking for guidance or logic.  Like so many people who’ve struggled through a divorce, she’s learned to self-sooth by venting.  Ironically, the angrier she gets, the better she (temporarily) feels.  Your role in this ongoing interaction isn’t really to talk – or to interact, frankly – except for the moments in which you reaffirm her role as victim.

Don’t beat yourself up about being used this way; I once spent five years listening to a friend who was convinced her divorce made her The Most Wronged Person in the History of the World™, even though she ended up with her kids, her health, and a big pile of dough.  What I came to realize was that the blow to her ego was so enormous – how could anyone leave ME? –that the way she survived it was to grow her sense of victimhood to the size of Godzilla…and that if I kept standing in her path, I’d wind up crushed.  Sounds like you’ve got that scaly green foot poised above your head, right about now. 

Your second question is, “Am I a good friend?” and I’d say you are, because you mean to be helpful.  But now that you realize what’s overtaking her – enough bitterness and self-regard to destroy a Japanese metropolis – the way to continue to be her friend is to disengage.  Cut way back on the number of her calls that you answer.  Pick up your car keys the next time she just shows up at your door, and pretend you were just heading out.  Listen for only so long, and then politely change the subject.  She may throw a few fits your way, but eventually she’ll get the point.  Which is that surrounding herself with herself is the best way to end up alone.

You’re not trying to end the friendship; you’re trying to return it to a state of…actual friendship.  The two-way kind.  The kind where you can eventually be direct enough to say, “I love you, and I can see that this is very hard on you, but you need to stop letting it take over your life…and our friendship.”

I wish I’d been brave enough to do that with my former friend.  I might have really helped her.  Hell, I might have saved Tokyo.

Get some rest!

Philip