He thinks I don't trust him, but I think I am just asking a relevant question. What do you think?

Question

My fiance lived in his home town an hour away from me. In May he moved in with me. He has friends in his home town and enjoys bowling on a league with them. He works for a bowling alley out there as well, coaching handicapped kids. So he bowls on a league Fri. night and stays at his moms house then goes to work as coach Sat. morning and comes home Sat. afternoon. Usually he and his friends go out for two hours or so after bowling and he texts or calls me. But I am going out of town on Thurs. (second time since we met) to visit a sick relative. He offered to stay home and help with my kids (which he already calls his step kids). He told the bowling alley that he needs Sat. off but is still going to bowl on the league Fri. night. I asked if he could drive home Fri. night to be with my boys (15 & 12) and he doesn't think it is necessary. I asked him what the big deal is, it is only one week. Now he is saying that I don't trust him at all and why is it an issue for me.

I never complain about him going out on Fri. night with his friends or that he doesn't come home that night. I am just curious why it is such a big deal for him to come home ONE time this ONE week. Any suggestions and/or advice?

Answer 1

My advice will be completely against what you are feeling. And it will be very difficult to accomplish, but try it anyway.

Unless your boys are completely untrustworthy at those ages, then tell your fiance that it is okay if he stays out that night. (And mean it . . . no guilt factor here). He might surprise you.

You trying to "convince" him or "make" him will only light a fire of rebellion inside of him. You being okay with it will surprise him and he won't be too busy with his fire to stop and think that it really is not big deal for him.

Read this article. It is an example of operant conditioning and really works.


June 25, 2006
MODERN LOVE
What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage
By AMY SUTHERLAND
AS I wash dishes at the kitchen sink, my husband paces behind me, irritated. "Have you seen my keys?" he snarls, then huffs out a loud sigh and stomps from the room with our dog, Dixie, at his heels, anxious over her favorite human's upset.
In the past I would have been right behind Dixie. I would have turned off the faucet and joined the hunt while trying to soothe my husband with bromides like, "Don't worry, they'll turn up." But that only made him angrier, and a simple case of missing keys soon would become a full-blown angst-ridden drama starring the two of us and our poor nervous dog.
Now, I focus on the wet dish in my hands. I don't turn around. I don't say a word. I'm using a technique I learned from a dolphin trainer.
I love my husband. He's well read, adventurous and does a hysterical rendition of a northern Vermont accent that still cracks me up after 12 years of marriage.
But he also tends to be forgetful, and is often tardy and mercurial. He hovers around me in the kitchen asking if I read this or that piece in The New Yorker when I'm trying to concentrate on the simmering pans. He leaves wadded tissues in his wake. He suffers from serious bouts of spousal deafness but never fails to hear me when I mutter to myself on the other side of the house. "What did you say?" he'll shout.
These minor annoyances are not the stuff of separation and divorce, but in sum they began to dull my love for Scott. I wanted — needed — to nudge him a little closer to perfect, to make him into a mate who might annoy me a little less, who wouldn't keep me waiting at restaurants, a mate who would be easier to love.
So, like many wives before me, I ignored a library of advice books and set about improving him. By nagging, of course, which only made his behavior worse: he'd drive faster instead of slower; shave less frequently, not more; and leave his reeking bike garb on the bedroom floor longer than ever.
We went to a counselor to smooth the edges off our marriage. She didn't understand what we were doing there and complimented us repeatedly on how well we communicated. I gave up. I guessed she was right — our union was better than most — and resigned myself to stretches of slow-boil resentment and occasional sarcasm.
Then something magical happened. For a book I was writing about a school for exotic animal trainers, I started commuting from Maine to California, where I spent my days watching students do the seemingly impossible: teaching hyenas to pirouette on command, cougars to offer their paws for a nail clipping, and baboons to skateboard.
I listened, rapt, as professional trainers explained how they taught dolphins to flip and elephants to paint. Eventually it hit me that the same techniques might work on that stubborn but lovable species, the American husband.
The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't. After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging. The same goes for the American husband.
Back in Maine, I began thanking Scott if he threw one dirty shirt into the hamper. If he threw in two, I'd kiss him. Meanwhile, I would step over any soiled clothes on the floor without one sharp word, though I did sometimes kick them under the bed. But as he basked in my appreciation, the piles became smaller.
I was using what trainers call "approximations," rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. You can't expect a baboon to learn to flip on command in one session, just as you can't expect an American husband to begin regularly picking up his dirty socks by praising him once for picking up a single sock. With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop. With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything.
I also began to analyze my husband the way a trainer considers an exotic animal. Enlightened trainers learn all they can about a species, from anatomy to social structure, to understand how it thinks, what it likes and dislikes, what comes easily to it and what doesn't. For example, an elephant is a herd animal, so it responds to hierarchy. It cannot jump, but can stand on its head. It is a vegetarian.
The exotic animal known as Scott is a loner, but an alpha male. So hierarchy matters, but being in a group doesn't so much. He has the balance of a gymnast, but moves slowly, especially when getting dressed. Skiing comes naturally, but being on time does not. He's an omnivore, and what a trainer would call food-driven.
Once I started thinking this way, I couldn't stop. At the school in California, I'd be scribbling notes on how to walk an emu or have a wolf accept you as a pack member, but I'd be thinking, "I can't wait to try this on Scott."
On a field trip with the students, I listened to a professional trainer describe how he had taught African crested cranes to stop landing on his head and shoulders. He did this by training the leggy birds to land on mats on the ground. This, he explained, is what is called an "incompatible behavior," a simple but brilliant concept.
Rather than teach the cranes to stop landing on him, the trainer taught the birds something else, a behavior that would make the undesirable behavior impossible. The birds couldn't alight on the mats and his head simultaneously.
At home, I came up with incompatible behaviors for Scott to keep him from crowding me while I cooked. To lure him away from the stove, I piled up parsley for him to chop or cheese for him to grate at the other end of the kitchen island. Or I'd set out a bowl of chips and salsa across the room. Soon I'd done it: no more Scott hovering around me while I cooked.
I followed the students to SeaWorld San Diego, where a dolphin trainer introduced me to least reinforcing syndrome (L. R. S.). When a dolphin does something wrong, the trainer doesn't respond in any way. He stands still for a few beats, careful not to look at the dolphin, and then returns to work. The idea is that any response, positive or negative, fuels a behavior. If a behavior provokes no response, it typically dies away.
In the margins of my notes I wrote, "Try on Scott!"
It was only a matter of time before he was again tearing around the house searching for his keys, at which point I said nothing and kept at what I was doing. It took a lot of discipline to maintain my calm, but results were immediate and stunning. His temper fell far shy of its usual pitch and then waned like a fast-moving storm. I felt as if I should throw him a mackerel.
Now he's at it again; I hear him banging a closet door shut, rustling through papers on a chest in the front hall and thumping upstairs. At the sink, I hold steady. Then, sure enough, all goes quiet. A moment later, he walks into the kitchen, keys in hand, and says calmly, "Found them."
Without turning, I call out, "Great, see you later."
Off he goes with our much-calmed pup.
After two years of exotic animal training, my marriage is far smoother, my husband much easier to love. I used to take his faults personally; his dirty clothes on the floor were an affront, a symbol of how he didn't care enough about me. But thinking of my husband as an exotic species gave me the distance I needed to consider our differences more objectively.
I adopted the trainers' motto: "It's never the animal's fault." When my training attempts failed, I didn't blame Scott. Rather, I brainstormed new strategies, thought up more incompatible behaviors and used smaller approximations. I dissected my own behavior, considered how my actions might inadvertently fuel his. I also accepted that some behaviors were too entrenched, too instinctive to train away. You can't stop a badger from digging, and you can't stop my husband from losing his wallet and keys.
PROFESSIONALS talk of animals that understand training so well they eventually use it back on the trainer. My animal did the same. When the training techniques worked so beautifully, I couldn't resist telling my husband what I was up to. He wasn't offended, just amused. As I explained the techniques and terminology, he soaked it up. Far more than I realized.
Last fall, firmly in middle age, I learned that I needed braces. They were not only humiliating, but also excruciating. For weeks my gums, teeth, jaw and sinuses throbbed. I complained frequently and loudly. Scott assured me that I would become used to all the metal in my mouth. I did not.
One morning, as I launched into yet another tirade about how uncomfortable I was, Scott just looked at me blankly. He didn't say a word or acknowledge my rant in any way, not even with a nod.
I quickly ran out of steam and started to walk away. Then I realized what was happening, and I turned and asked, "Are you giving me an L. R. S.?" Silence. "You are, aren't you?"
He finally smiled, but his L. R. S. has already done the trick. He'd begun to train me, the American wife.
Amy Sutherland is the author of "Kicked, Bitten and Scratched: Life and Lessons at the Premier School for Exotic Animal Trainers" (Viking, June 2006). She lives in Boston and in Portland, Me.

Answer 2

It could be a discipline of opinion. I feel he is doing a well process. I bet you'll be able to to find distinctive humans correct right here who say he is doing a poor process. And this is not a quality trouble to become aware of a consultant sample. So you might ordinarily attain expertise of extra through utilizing asking approximately special issues.

Answer 3

I think that you need to realize that he is still a free man and can do what he wants. You need him more than he needs you since you have children ( as in this case when you go away) to care for. I see future problems if you expect him to babysit for you. Why not realize that this is going to be a problem later on since he has his own life.And it sounds like a very excellent life coaching handicapped children. He sounds like a very superior person. You need to be self sufficient and not question his decisions. I agree with him ( sorry)

Answer 4

Which is more important, your boys or your fiance's bowling league?

It sounds to me like the fiance needs to do some serious soul-searching. And think of this: If this is how he behaves now, what will he do after you've tied the knot?

Answer 5

Just trust him and confidence in your relationship. Remember that man need space sometime with his friend. Please donot make a big deal out of nothing. Just remember that he love you and even spend with your own child while many other man will never do. It is only for a week.

Answer 6

People resist change. maybe he's used to his routine and doesn't want to change it too much.... or else he's got a girl on the side he was going to see friday night.

Answer 7

look, you are trying to build a family together and obviously it bothers you that you have so little time together and that his extracurriculars are so time consuming. Which is natural!! He needs to learn on how to be more of the man of the house and less of a roommate!

Answer 8

hes tring to cover something by saying that. maybe you should go down there one night without telling him and see what he's up to. Do what ever is necessary.

Answer 9

he is doing nothing wrong...these are your children and your responsibility...and certainly a 15 year old is old enough to stay home alone....where is their bio dad....can't bio dad take them on Friday...if not..simply take them with you...they are your children not his

Answer 10

As you say it is not such a big deal. then wy are you making into one?

Answer 11

maybe he is cheating on you on friday nights? I had that same problem, and turns out he was cheating...