How to Be a Husband. Tim Dowling

your argument for you, you will almost always end up with a more charitable interpretation of your logic than you deserve.

      The wrongness of underestimating your partner’s emotional investment in the issue. This is the point at which you say, ‘I had no idea you felt so strongly about this’, although what you probably mean is, ‘I’ve just realized I don’t feel strongly about this at all.’ It’s not your fault. Righteous anger is an opportunist emotion – it can desert you at weird times.

      The wrongness of making it All About You. It is rare for my wife and I to have a serious argument in which she does not at some stage say, ‘It has to be all about you, doesn’t it?’ In my extensive experience it’s almost impossible to respond to such a challenge without making your answer All About You.

      The wrongness of giving an ultimatum. Whoops! Did you just draw a line in the sand? I think we both know you didn’t mean to do that. When has brinkmanship ever worked for you in the past? My wife never blinks in these matters: she knows I’m going all-in with the argumentative equivalent of a pair of fours.

      The wrongness of being a bit of a cock. All you have to say in this case is, ‘Perhaps I’m being a bit of a cock about this, but …’ You might get a denial in return, although you shouldn’t hold your breath.

      Now all you have to do is find a way to acknowledge your error and give up. This is not a simple matter of saying, ‘Hang on a minute – I think I’m wrong!’ and flicking on the TV. If you’re going to be wrong, you’ve got to look wrong, even if that means mimicking a last-ditch attempt to save face.

      Use whatever technique works best for you. Say ‘Huh’ dismissively and then let an awkward silence bloom. Or fold your arms, sit down and stare at your shoes for a full minute – a classic. Try conceding in a way that doesn’t sound at all conciliatory, by saying something such as ‘I’m wrestling with the unattractive possibility that you may have a point.’

      Here’s one I use a lot, even now: I just say, ‘Whatever.’

      ‘Whatever’ has a reputation as a meaningless piece of conversational shorthand, but it’s actually terribly useful when conceding an argument. It acknowledges someone’s right to an opinion without necessarily giving it credence, and, depending on your inflection, it can also imply that while life is too important to waste time fighting, your willingness to make peace – to be the bigger person – comes at some emotional cost. Best of all, it does all this gracelessly. The other person will assume that having lost your case on points, you are seeking to abandon the discussion before a humiliating climbdown becomes necessary. With ‘whatever’, everybody walks away with something.