Last Wednesday night, my husband of a decade and I put on our fancy-ish, semi-stretchy outfits and treated ourselves to a gluttonous belated Valentine’s Day dinner. We really don’t date enough. Every time we find ourselves chickless with cheesy apps, steaks and red wine, we rediscover just how much we like each other.
We’ve been sitting at tables with cheesy apps, steaks and red wine (or pizza and soda cocktails, depending on the decade) for more than 17 years. We’ve covered a lot of ground, both in diet and dialogue. As you pass through the seasons of life, you fall into certain conversational potholes. In our teens, it was all who are you and how did you get so amazing? In our 20s, it was all friends and weddings and first jobs and apartments. In our 30s it’s the kids, our jobs, our house and the kids.
I love my girls, my work and our home, but after awhile, talking about only the adult parts of our lives makes me feel ever so slightly like the lead character in an indie film. You know the one … he/she’s disconnected, an inactive participant in the fleeting hours of his/her fleeting years. They typically come alive after daring to pursue a very uncharacteristic journey or relationship. In real life, the plot twist isn’t written in. You have to spice up the script yourself. 
About a week ago, a sweet friend from work passed along a podcast she thought I’d enjoy. The Science of Happiness features research-based topics for living a meaningful life and is co-produced by the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley. The episode she recommended was “How to fall in love with anyone” and it led me to the 36 questions.
The 36 questions! It’s starting to get good, guys. Stay with me.
(This is the nerdy, fascinating part.) The 36 questions were originally developed in a lab by a guy named Art. Art was focused on creating, not love, but friendships. But not just any friendships. Friendships between people who otherwise hated each other. People who felt a strong prejudice against a particular group of people. The scientists (Art) wanted to see if having someone who held prejudice complete a get-to-know-you interview with someone from the group which they disliked would change or reduce the negative taste in their mouth. In short, could a good ole Barbara Walters sit down break down racial tensions? And wouldn’t you know … it did. Now, those are some damn good questions.
So, this author, Kelly Corrigan, who was the primary guest on the podcast, took Art’s research-proven technique for feeling closer to the people you hated and applied it to romantic partners and married couples, because, you know, why not?
She focused on couples who’d been together for some time. “You think there’s no discovery left and how sad is that?” she said. Her confident conclusion is that sitting down and asking your loved one the 36 questions will open a whole new can of conversational worms. “The thought of hearing your spouse say something for the first time, not just to you, but possibly to anyone, that’s powerful. Intimacy is predicated after all on telling someone something you wouldn’t tell anyone else.”
See, the trick is: You have to ask the questions.
Remember when you were first dating your husband/wife and you’d stay up late relentlessly probing for every little morsel of information? You collected their history crumb by crumb, devouring the sweet story of their life up until the point you entered it.
And that’s where you grew up? And what was your childhood like? Were you a bad kid or a good kid? Did you have any hobbies? Did you win any awards? And how did that make you feel? Were you close to your parents? Why is that? How would you say your relationship is now? Were you a good brother? What’s that scar? Did it hurt? Did you ever do that again? So you don’t have your tonsils?
When did I stop asking the questions?
If I had to guess, it was probably around the same time we added a second kid, went to man-on-man coverage and took jobs where we had to wear slacks and closed toe shoes, but it’s really a hard thing to gauge retroactively.
I don’t know everything there is to know about Hank. I couldn’t possibly! By our very nature we’re changing every second, in our thoughts, in our cells. I guess I just forgot that it’s my job to keep going back for the crumbs. It’s still a sweet story, his story. He still wants to tell it, even though he says he doesn’t. We all want someone to witness our time here.
There’s a whole process on the website for how you should conduct your interview. Myself, I like to just lob one at the old man when he least expects it, or he’s stuck at a fancy restaurant with me and we have to appear to be having adult conversation to fit in with all the other adults wearing sweater vests and cell phone belt clips.
“So, I listened to this podcast Angie recommended about these 36 questions …” I started [Insert spiel about the premise and prejudice, Art, etc. and so on.]
“OK”
“But I forgot the paper with all the questions.”
“You were going to bring a paper to our Valentine’s Day fancy dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“K”
“Anyway, the only two I can remember are, ‘Have you ever thought of how you would die?’ and ‘What was the last song you sang to yourself?’”
“I mean … really … I’m not good at this stuff.”
“C’mon. Have you ever thought about how you would die?”
“I guess old age, something sudden and catastrophic, or a horrible illness.”
“I hope it’s old age.”
“I know you do.”
“What was the last song you sang?”
“I mean, with the kids I’m always singing something from a Disney princess show or some stupid thing. But just like 2 seconds of it and then another thought pops into my head.”
“I remember another one! ‘What was the most terrifying day of your life?’”
“I don’t really remember that stuff. I know I was scared when you had surgery after JoJo was born (a story for another time). And I’m sure I was scared when Dad had cancer. But I just don’t hold onto those things.”
At this point, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the 36 questions were working their magic whether he wanted to believe they would or not.
We kept on like that through our entrees. Then I veered off script and brought up the subject of getting a new dog when our current dog crosses the rainbow bridge, and things took a turn. But still, 3 of the 36 questions had proven to be pretty dang great.
So now I want more. I want more time (I wouldn’t be mad at more fancy dinners, either) and more crumbs. I want to stay up late rediscovering my husband of a decade and all the strange, phenomenal thoughts that go through his 30-something head and settle back into his soul a bit. I mean, if I don’t ask him the questions, who will? Our children? Their major inquiries of late revolve around gravity and the purpose of butts. Someone has to steer this ship in a deeper direction.
You can find the questions here and the podcast here. I hope they help you reconnect with a parent, sibling, friend or partner. Maybe even try them on someone ya hate! Happy discovery and conversation, friends.
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