You and your spouse can plot the same things, revealing where you earn or spend your money (versus: how you think you earn or spend it).
Other ideas might be to sketch your geographic moves over time or your most important life choices or anything that's relevant to the current discussion.
The emails give people a bird's-eye view of Crowley's thoughts and plans, writes Bryant.
Yet his only experience practicing law to date has consisted of getting fired from a $2,400-a-week summer-associate job at a prestigious Silicon Valley firm for, among other things, showing up intoxicated at the orientation meeting and complaining that he couldn’t see anything because he had lost his contacts in a hookup with a girl he had met at a party the night before; informing a female recruiter at the firm that he was “calling a porn line” when she walked into his office unexpectedly; and getting fall-down drunk at a firm retreat and shouting the F-word at a charity auction attended by the partners and their spouses.
His email account of the last escapade made its way to laughs around the country.
You two need to decide on something big together: Should you buy that house? Or you could borrow a technique suggested by Chris Ertel and Lisa Kay Solomon, who consult with corporations on how to plan strategic meetings.
"One powerful way to establish context," write the two in Moments of Impact: How to Design Strategic Conversations That Accelerate Change, "is to create a large visual timeline." A company, for example, might plot key investments over the previous decade.
Not so, says University of Chicago Booth School of Business professor Nicholas Epley.
In his study of 104 couples, he asked one partner to predict how the other would respond to questions on everything from the use of cash to biggest life regret.
Leigh Newman is the deputy editor at and the author of Still Points North: One Alaskan Childhood, One Grown Up World, One Long Journey Home.
Courtney, 21, is a student at Penn State University.
At the Hampton Inn where Max was staying, he introduced Courtney to his dog: “Say hello to the new slut.” The next morning, after some sessions of “jackhammering a sidewalk,” as she described his sexual technique (although she did concede that he was a “great kisser”), he handed her for the taxi ride of shame back to her apartment. A.”, feminist Jaclyn Friedman, who inexplicably blamed Max’s perverse success with females (half his fans, perhaps the more enthusiastic half, are female) on abstinence-only sex education, sniffed that she found his “antics revolting,” blasted his “unapologetic misogyny,” and accused him of contributing to a campus atmosphere that allows 150,000 young women to be raped every academic year.
(Friedman derived that extraordinarily high figure by counting drunken sexual encounters between students as rape.) Amanda Marcotte, the feminist blogger briefly hired by John Edwards during his presidential campaign, chimed in, accusing Max of a “bone-deep hatred of sexual women”—and also of possible “sexual assault” because he had bragged on his website about sleeping with a drunk girl while a friend hidden in a closet filmed the encounter. Next to her story she posted a photograph of her with Max that she had a friend take at the bar.
A short break seems to alleviate that fear enough that they go ahead and admit the ugly truth.