Meaning that as a society, we don’t understand relationship skills. Yet everything is at
stake in people’s relationships. Maybe that’s why Daniel Goleman’s Emotional Intelligence
struck such a responsive chord. It said: There are social-emotional skills and I can tell you what
they are.
Mindsets add another dimension. They help us understand even more about why people
often don’t learn the skills they need or use the skills they have. Why people throw themselves so
hopefully into new relationships, only to undermine themselves. Why love often turns into a
battlefield where the carnage is staggering. And, most important, they help us understand why
some people are able to build lasting and satisfying relationships.
MINDSETS FALLING IN LOVE
So far, having a fixed mindset has meant believing your personal traits are fixed. But in
relationships, two more things enter the picture—your partner and the relationship itself. Now
you can have a fixed mindset about three things. You can believe that your qualities are fixed,
your partner’s qualities are fixed, and the relationship’s qualities are fixed—that it’s inherently
good or bad, meant-to-be or not meant-to-be. Now all of these things are up for judgment.
The growth mindset says all of these things can be developed. All—you, your partner,
and the relationship—are capable of growth and change.
In the fixed mindset, the ideal is instant, perfect, and perpetual compatibility. Like it was
meant to be. Like riding off into the sunset. Like “they lived happily ever after.”
Many people want to feel their relationship is special and not just some chance
occurrence. This seems okay. So what’s the problem with the fixed mindset? There are two.
- If You Have to Work at It, It Wasn’tMeant to Be
One problem is that people with the fixed mindset expect everything good to happen
automatically. It’s not that the partners will work to help each other solve their problems or gain
skills. It’s that this will magically occur through their love, sort of the way it happened to
Sleeping Beauty, whose coma was cured by her prince’s kiss, or to Cinderella, whose miserable
life was suddenly transformed by her prince.
Charlene’s friends told her about Max, the new musician in town. He had come to play
cello with the symphony orchestra. The next night, Charlene and her friends went to see the
orchestra’s performance, and when they went backstage afterward, Max took Charlene’s hand
and said, “Next time, let’s make it longer.” She was taken with his intense, romantic air, and he
was taken with her charming manner and exotic looks. As they went out, the intensity grew.
They seemed to understand each other deeply. They enjoyed the same things—food, analyzing
people, travel. They both thought, Where have you been all my life?
Over time, though, Max became moody. Actually, that’s how he was. It just didn’t show
at first. When he was in a bad mood, he wanted to be left alone. Charlene wanted to talk about
what was bothering him, but that irritated him. “Just leave me alone,” he would insist, more and
more forcefully. Charlene, however, would feel shut out.
Plus, his moods didn’t always happen at convenient times. Sometimes the couple was
scheduled to go out. Sometimes they had planned a special dinner alone. Either he didn’t want to
do it, or she would endure his sullen silence throughout the evening. If she tried to make light
conversation, he would be disappointed in her: “I thought you understood me.”
Friends, seeing how much they cared about each other, urged them to work on this
problem. But they both felt, with great sorrow, that if the relationship were the right one, they
wouldn’t have to work so hard. If it were the right relationship, they would just be able to
understand and honor each other’s needs. So they grew apart and eventually broke up.