SMALL THINGS OFTEN

Love. It’s a big word—hard to define and pin down. For centuries, the poets have been trying. It’s like a red, red rose (Burns). Or it is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken (Shakespeare). It’s a many-splendored thing (says one classic romantic movie); it’s never having to say you’re sorry (according to another). Can something so huge, so essential, so mysterious, so individual—have a formula? Is there a “prescription” for love?

In a word: Yes.

And the most important thing to know about “the love prescription” is that it’s a small one. Tiny little doses, every day, is what it takes to make a healthy relationship. Why? Because that’s exactly what a relationship is—not one big thing, but a million tiny things, every day, for a lifetime.

We should know: For the past fifty years, we’ve been putting love under the microscope, starting with John’s earliest research on marital interactions at Indiana University and spanning to today, as we still work closely with couples through the Gottman Institute. When we founded the Love Lab in Seattle in 1990, we wanted to know: What makes love last? Why does one couple stay together forever, while another falls apart? And was it even possible to quantify any of this with data—to use the tools of science and mathematical modeling to predict whether a couple would live happily ever after?

Since then, we’ve brought all kinds of couples—married and unmarried, gay and straight, couples with kids and those without, newlyweds and married-for-decades seasoned pros—into the lab to drill down to the key factors that make a good relationship good. We’ve looked at every facet of their relationships—their body language, the way they converse, the way they fight, their personal histories and their love stories; we’ve watched their heart rates rise and fall and measured the flood of stress hormones in their bodies. We’ve filmed their every movement and reviewed the footage down to the hundredth of a second. Every scrap of data that could be gathered, we collected. We lifted the lid on love and took out all the little parts to determine what, precisely, made it tick. Like the Hadron Collider smashing apart an atom, we wanted to see if we could isolate the building blocks of love.

And what did we learn, when we brought love into the lab?

Well, a lot. This has been our life’s work. And this little book will offer you just a slice of it. But we think that in many ways, it’s the most important slice. In this bite-sized, seven-day action plan, we’ll be taking you through our most foundational findings—the first steps toward building a love that lasts. And here’s the preview: love is a practice. More than a feeling, it’s an action. It’s something you do, not something that just happens to you. And you need to give—and get—a daily dose to maintain a healthy, thriving relationship.

The surprising thing is, it’s not about grand gestures. It’s not a Valentine’s Day bouquet or a last-minute trip to Paris. It’s not John Cusack standing outside your bedroom window with a boom box. Instead, it’s all about little things done often. You’ve heard the expression “The devil is in the details”? Well, in relationships, the love is in the details. They’re easy to do, but too often forgotten. We’ve all heard the phrase “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” It might be good life advice, but when it comes to love, it’s 100 percent wrong. Love is all about the small stuff. And it’s time to sweat.

The Rock That Changed the Course of a River

Mark and Annette had decided to separate. It wasn’t an easy decision—they’d been married for more than a decade and had an eight-year-old daughter. But something was definitely off, and it had been for a long time. There had been a slow waning of attraction, interest, companionship. Their marriage had become dull and stale. They didn’t look forward to seeing each other at the end of the day as they once had; somehow, most of their interactions now ended with tension or sniping, not sweetness. At best, they felt like business partners or roommates, not lovers or friends.

As a last-ditch effort, Mark suggested going to a therapist. They hadn’t tried this before. But Annette figured, why not? They didn’t have anything to lose.

The therapist listened to their story. He asked them what they thought was wrong, and why they wanted to separate. Over a series of weekly sessions, the reasons came out: Not getting along. No sex. Seems like all we do is fight.

And then one week he said, “I have a weekend assignment for you.”

He told them that he wanted them to do something outside their comfort zone. By their own description, Mark and Annette were fairly fastidious people—they liked keeping their home spotless and highly organized. Cleanliness was a top priority for them. Their daughter kept her toys neatly put away at all times; in their home, there wasn’t a thing out of place. So the assignment the therapist gave them was this: Go out into your backyard and have a mud fight.

The couple was baffled. A what?

“A mud fight,” the therapist insisted. “Get the hose out, make a mud pit, put on some old clothes, and get right in there. Throw mud at each other, just go for it!”

At home, the couple shook their heads and sighed. It was too bad that this therapist had turned out to be an idiot. They would have to find a new one.

Their daughter, who’d been listening in, had a different opinion.

“I think it’s a great idea!” she chimed in.

They just shook their heads. Kids! The weekend rolled around, and they were feeling—as usual—disconnected and tense. In their shining, clean kitchen, drinking coffee, they talked it over: Give up on therapy? Start the search over and find a new therapist? Again, their daughter jumped in. “Let’s have that mud fight!” she cried. “C’mon, do it! Just try it!”

She wouldn’t let up. If you have kids, or know any, you understand how persistent they can be—and loud. Mark and Annette threw their hands up. “Fine, fine,” they said. “You win.” They got on some old clothes. Mark dug up a T-shirt he’d gotten at a concert years ago when they were still dating, except now his hair was graying and the shirt was a little snug around the middle; Annette ended up in an old, stained blouse, long out of style. They both felt ridiculous, hovering there in the backyard while the hose ran cold water into a pile of garden muck. But their daughter was looking at them expectantly, excitedly, and what else were they supposed to do? Mark bent down, grabbed a handful of cold gunk, but then hesitated. Annette took that moment to flick mud his way. It freckled his cheek. Now provoked, he threw his handful at her; she shrieked and scooped up some more; their daughter scooped up huge handfuls, and before long, it was a full-on mud war. Soon, they were howling with laughter, flinging mud everywhere, slipping, sliding, and rolling in it. They ended up with their arms around each other, laughing and kissing. They’d never felt closer. Or . . . grosser.

That mud fight completely turned around their relationship. Just a few moments in time—yet it had an enormous impact. From that moment on, Mark and Annette decided to make more time for fun and adventure in their family. Their experience reminded us of how a river can change its entire course from a single rock falling into it midstream. In circling around the rock, the river courses higher up its bank, carving out a new path for itself through sand, clay, and rock. Geologists have found that over time, rivers can even sculpt out new valleys in this way—all because of one tiny change.

Into the Love Lab

Mark and Annette shared this story and more when they came into the Love Lab to participate in one of our studies. When we observed them, it was clear that they had managed to re-create a strong and loving marriage. After so many years of intensive research, we can observe a couple for fifteen minutes and predict, with 90 percent accuracy, whether they’ll stay together or not . . . and if that union will be a happy one.[1] And we could see, Mark and Annette were now in it for the long haul.

Long before we founded the Gottman Institute, John started out as a mathematician, fascinated by the ways that numbers could predict important truths about the world. But while doing graduate work at MIT, he found himself more interested in his roommate’s psychology books than his own. He switched paths. And then, after spending a couple of decades researching relationships, that old love of math resurfaced. He started to wonder about the mathematics of love. After all, mathematical biologists had been able to model all sorts of things, from pandemics to tumor formation to why tigers have stripes and leopards have spots. Why not love?

One of the first things that John discovered in the Love Lab was that we’re often wrong about what makes love last. By tracking his theories and results over time, he found that 60 percent of his earliest ideas about what makes marriages succeed or fail were off base. Like the rest of us, he’d spawned those ideas from cultural stereotypes—our favorite novels, TV shows and movies, our own families and experiences. These all have the capacity to lead us astray, and often do. That’s why we really need data. Analyzing data can accurately reveal what’s true and not true about what helps relationships succeed. Fortunately, even with that dismal early record of poor predictions, John didn’t quit. With his best friend, Dr. Robert Levenson, and his wife, Dr. Julie Schwartz Gottman, he dedicated his career to collecting and analyzing data to discover truths. The results? There is a science of love. And best of all, we now know clear ways to help a relationship. Love is—after all this time—no longer such a mystery.

We’ve studied more than three thousand couples in the Love Lab, following some for as long as twenty years, and we’ve studied more than forty thousand couples about to begin couples therapy. We’ve watched countless hours of tape. Aggregated millions of data points. And what we’ve discovered is that there are universal factors that make or break a relationship, that predict whether a couple will stay together happily, or not.

First, a couple needs to stay curious about each other. We all grow and change over time. Successful couples know this and take the time to make and expand their “love maps”—their knowledge of each other’s inner worlds. That means not only asking questions, but also asking the right kind of questions.

Second, the couple needs to share fondness and admiration. That means, among other things, seeing and appreciating the good things your partner does, finding and focusing on the things you admire about them, and expressing these things out loud or with touch. A lot of people think their partner already knows they’re loved and admired—but what we’ve observed is that they don’t. Loving words need to be said aloud much more often than we realize. This isn’t the single drink of water you give your potted plant every few days, but the continuous oxygen you breathe.

And third, the couple turns toward each other instead of turning away. That means they make and respond to what we call “bids for connection.” Bids can range from little things, like calling each other’s names, to big things, like asking for deeper needs to be met. Successful couples are savvy enough to notice when their partner is making a bid, and they drop what they’re doing, if necessary, to engage.

These are the factors that separate the “masters” of love from the disasters. And further, the masters understand that it’s the small things you do (or don’t do) on a daily basis that can make or break a relationship—because these are what create intimacy. It doesn’t take much to turn a relationship around. It takes a question or two—the right kind. It takes a thank-you, or a real, genuine compliment. It takes giving your partner a chance to do something for you. It takes a six-second kiss. It takes . . . a handful of mud.

You might notice a few things conspicuously absent from the above list. Most notably, conflict.

Of course, conflict is a part of any close relationship. But when a relationship is on the rocks, or even just cooling off a bit, a major conflict is the last place you want to start. We’re not saying you should ignore your problems. We’re just saying it’s not the place to begin. We know from the lab that the best relationships aren’t built on partners mostly telling each other what’s wrong. They’re built on partners mostly telling each other what’s right. So whether you’re going through a rough patch, or just starting out and wondering what points of friction lie ahead, one thing we’re not going to do here is have you sit down at the table, work on your conflict management skills, or workshop your Big Issues. We’re going to tell you to first go out in the backyard, make a mud pit, and have a little fun.

We promise we’ll make this easy for you. In the course of the next week, you can shift the culture of your relationship for the better—and you can do it in small, immediately actionable steps. For the next seven days, this will be your motto: Small things often.

This is Relationships 101. Nobody takes this class in high school or college (though we should!). We’re left to learn how to have relationships from watching our parents, or TV and movies. And that’s not always a good curriculum. It took us all these years to figure out the formula for a good relationship, and in the seven days that follow, we’re going to dispense our best, most distilled and potent advice.

Anyone can do this, from any starting point. Julie, in her practice, has worked one-on-one with those in the most challenging circumstances that you can imagine: war vets with PTSD, heroin addicts, cancer survivors, and communities in deep poverty. It’s hard, and heartbreaking. And she loves it. It’s work that portrays the incredible resilience of the human soul—people emerging from darkness into places of light. In the Love Lab, she’s seen the same thing in relationships. There may be no embers left—just ash. And yet, you blow a little bit and whoosh! Up springs a fire.