Intimacy and Power

The Dynamics of Personal Relationships

in Modern Society

Derek Layder
Intimacy and Power
Also by Derek Layder

STRUCTURE, INTERACTION AND SOCIAL THEORY

THE REALIST IMAGE IN SOCIAL SCIENCE
NEW STRATEGIES IN SOCIAL RESEARCH
UNDERSTANDING SOCIAL THEORY
METHODS, SEX AND MADNESS (with J. O’Connell-Davidson)
MODERN SOCIAL THEORY
SOCIOLOGICAL PRACTICE
SOCIAL AND PERSONAL IDENTITY
EMOTION IN SOCIAL LIFE
Intimacy and Power
The Dynamics of Personal Relationships
in Modern Society

Derek Layder
University of Leicester, UK
© Derek Layder 2009
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Contents

Preface and Acknowledgements vi

1 Understanding Couple Intimacy 1

2 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 10

3 Psycho-Emotional Needs 36

4 Intimacy and Interpersonal Control 51

5 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 63

6 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 84

7 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 98

8 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 113

9 Energising Games 130

10 The Erosion of Intimacy 146

11 The Nature of Modern Intimacy 160

12 Intimacy, Power and Social Domains 170

Bibliography 180

Index 184

v
Preface and Acknowledgements

This book is about the intimacy and power games that underpin
personal relationships between couples (and, to a lesser extent, friends)
in the modern world. It focuses primarily, but not exclusively, on the
interpersonal dynamics of relationships between couples (and friends)
by asking questions such as ‘How is intimacy “achieved”? How do peo-
ple make close relationships work? What happens when their intimacy
stalls, or breaks down completely?’ These are serious analytic questions
for any science of human behaviour, but are infrequently broached by
sociologists. Yet such questions are too important to be left entirely to
self-help gurus and writers of popular psychology (which is not to deny
the usefulness of some of their contributions).
For these and other reasons, this book concentrates on a fairly
restricted band of interest in intimacy compared with the potential
spread of sociological enquiry. In this respect it is not a critical overview
of existing social research on the many different facets of intimacy. As
I’ve already said, it mainly concerns intimacy in couples and friendship
and, as such, it does not cover issues about parenting or parent–child
interactions. Nor is it explicitly about the role of sexuality in intimacy –
although obviously it is assumed that sexuality frequently plays a major
role in couple intimacy in a way that it doesn’t in friendships. Follow-
ing from this, the book does not explore contrasts between heterosexual
and same sex relationships. It is assumed that although there may be
differences between them, they share much in common in terms of the
human experience of intimacy.
Gender issues do figure quite prominently in the discussion. However,
the main focus is on the debate about the extent to which differences in
intimacy skills and the negotiation of intimate relationships result from
gender influences. The question of gender roles (such as the persistence
of notions of ‘female housewives’ versus ‘male earners’) within marriage
or cohabitation, or the topic of gender inequalities and exploitation,
is not explicitly examined. The main concerns are about how couples
(and/or friends) communicate with each other in the context of differ-
ent types of intimacy and the typical confusions, problems and conflicts
that arise.

vi
 Preface and Acknowledgements vii

Intimacy involves personal closeness – both physical, and psycho-

emotional – and in this sense, many aspects of human contact may be
defined as intimate. Thus it is common to speak of having ‘intimate con-
versations’ or sharing intimate situations – even with people we might
otherwise regard as strangers. Such interactions occur regularly in gym
changing rooms, on aircraft, trains, buses, and in many public spaces.
Now while it may be that a ‘version’ of ‘intimacy’ is shared in such
instances, it is, nonetheless, usually fleeting and, as I say, often involves
individuals who aren’t particularly well known to each other. Both char-
acteristics make this phenomenon very different from that which is
the focus of this book. Here the concern is with intimate relationships
sustained over time by deep mutual (psycho-emotional) knowledge.
‘Self-disclosure’ (Giddens 1992) and ‘disclosing intimacy’ (Jamieson
1998) are terms that have been used to characterise close relation-
ships in the modern world. Unfortunately, these terms do not distin-
guish between perfunctory or superficial self-disclosure – of the kind
frequently present in fleeting moments of ‘intimacy’ – and a more
profound kind of self-revelation stemming from sustained contact,
shared experience and deep mutual knowledge. Both for this reason and
because (as I go on to show), the extent and form of self-disclosure in
modern couple intimacy varies considerably, I prefer to talk of ‘deep
knowledge intimacy’ rather than self-disclosure or disclosing intimacy.
Finally, there are many people – too numerous to mention – who have
influenced my thinking on intimacy over the years and to whom I am
grateful. More specifically, I would like to thank Barbara Misztal for her
comments on earlier drafts of what now appear as parts of Chapters 1
and 12. Also, Nicky Drucquer provided a thorough and perceptive com-
mentary on most of the chapters as they appeared in earlier forms. Her
insightful comments helped me greatly in reformulating some of the
ideas.
1
Understanding Couple Intimacy

Since its earliest beginnings a prominent theme in sociological analysis

has been to document the cataclysmic social changes that have accom-
panied the transition from pre-modern (traditional) societies to their
modern and late modern forms. A concern with the profound changes
in social relationships that resulted from this transition is reflected in
the work of the classical sociologists Comte, Durkheim, Marx, Weber
and Simmel. Such an emphasis has also been present in the writings
of subsequent authors such as Parsons and Elias. In a similar fashion,
recent sociological works, particularly by Giddens (1991, 1992) and
Beck and Beck-Gernsheim (1995), are themed around the issue of how
intimacy has been changed by the structural transition to modernity.
These authors have stressed the way in which traditional constraints and
expectations have been stripped away to leave intimate relationships
bereft of such external supports. They have identified the emergence
of what they call ‘the pure relationship’, which has meant that inti-
mate relationships have become increasingly fragile, as their external
anchorages have fallen away.
I shall have reason to discuss the pure relationship at many points
in this book. However, in so doing I shall be more concerned with the
nature of the pure relationship and its implications for personal and
social experience than with the question of how intimacy has changed
from pre-modern to modern times. In particular, I focus on how the pure
relationship measures up against what we know of the interpersonal
dynamics of intimacy, as they are experienced in the modern world.
This entails something of a shift of emphasis away from a concern with
social structural matters – involved in the transition from traditional
to modern societies – to a relatively greater concern with understanding
intimacy as an interpersonal transaction.

1
2 Intimacy and Power

However, in suggesting this, I am by no means advocating that

interpersonal dynamics are the exclusive outcome of ‘internal’ situa-
tional factors. Of course, historical developments in social structure and
culture are extremely important but these ‘external’ factors must be
understood in combination with equally important subjective psycho-
logical factors, as well as the dynamics of socially situated behaviour. In
this respect, what I call the theory of social domains (Layder 1997) fur-
nishes the underlying explanatory framework of this study. While this
remains largely in the background its influence is critical. More gen-
erally, however, intimacy cannot be properly understood without due
attention to the interpersonal dealings and transactions which are, in
fact, its primary means of expression. In short, the way people ‘do’,
or ‘enact’, intimacy is of paramount importance to understanding its
nature.

Variations in couple intimacy

Chapter 2 begins with an overview of Giddens’ (1991, 1992) and Beck

and Beck-Gernsheim’s (1995) accounts of the emergence of the pure
relationship in the modern era, but quickly moves on to a critical com-
mentary on them. This critique draws from ‘alternative’ empirical data
on couple relationships – reinforced by other critical voices – which
suggest a somewhat different story about the nature of modern inti-
macy. The point is not to question the historical basis of Giddens’ and
Beck and Beck-Gernsheim’s accounts of the transition from intimacy in
traditional society to the modern pure relationship. However, a close
examination of the empirical material reveals that the complex experi-
ential character of modern couple intimacy differs from that suggested
by the pure relationship.
Reibstein’s (1997) study of protective dependent love, Marshall’s
(2006) research on the problems that couples have in sustaining opti-
mal intimacy over the longer term, along with Miller’s research on
what he calls ‘intimate terrorism’, provide detailed and vivid evocations
of these alternative visions of intimacy. Along with Jamieson’s (1998,
1999) extensive review of work on different aspects of intimacy and
Craib’s (1998) critique of Giddens, the evidence suggests that modern
couple intimacy is rather more complex, plural and nuanced than is
suggested by the pure relationship. On this basis Chapter 2 goes on
to outline six qualitatively different types of intimate relationship. In
this sense, modern intimacy is to be understood not as a unitary ‘pure
relationship’ but as a series of types whose characteristics may vary
 Understanding Couple Intimacy 3

over time. The bundles of characteristics or dimensions that form these

types include the extent and nature of self-disclosure between partners;
varying forms of trust, commitment and satisfaction; communicative
styles, the matching or mismatching of psycho-emotional needs, argu-
mentative or conflict styles and so on. However, the most important
variable characteristic is the form of interpersonal power and control
underpinning the intimacy in question.

Intimate agendas and alignment

Individuals have different levels of personal and subjective power –

as indicated by the existence of varying amounts of self-confidence,
persuasive skills, capacity to get things done, or make a difference. Chap-
ter 3 examines how these varying powers profoundly impact on couple’s
everyday negotiations about intimacy. Identifying the exact balance of
power, control and influence underpinning a close relationship provides
a clue as to what is going on in the minds of the intimates as they search
for psychological and emotional satisfaction. In this respect a basic driv-
ing force in intimacy concerns the ‘agendas’ of the participants: what do
they each want, desire or need from the bond? Do they simply want to
feel included in the other’s agenda or do they want to be part of a shared
project? Do they wish to be regarded as a team, or simply want their
thoughts or feelings to be acknowledged? Do they desire, or need, defi-
nite expressions of love or closeness – like hugs or kisses, or verbal state-
ments of support or concern? Are they driven by the need to encourage
one another and/or to disclose more about their desires and feelings?
Although partners and friends may share interests and attitudes, their
respective psycho-biographical journeys generate differences in emo-
tional sensitivities as well as practical needs. For example, they may
have different requirements about personal space, how much love and
affection they want, or how much they value the relationship. Even the
extent of criticism and support they expect from one another may dif-
fer. Differences in need and disposition are potential sources of strain,
tension or conflict. Personal agendas become the foci of ‘negotiations’ –
either explicit or unconscious – which affect how partners ‘get on’ on
a day-to-day basis. The way in which they deal with such negotiations
will affect the closeness and robustness of their bond in the longer term.
Alignment between intimates is also important. Do their purposes
and agendas mesh or conflict? Severe problems may result from mis-
matching agendas. There are three main possibilities. First, alignment
problems may be situation-specific. For example, after dining out friends
4 Intimacy and Power

or partners may have a ‘friendly’ disagreement about who pays the

bill. Second, interpersonal business may carry over from a previous
encounter to influence alignment in the current situation. Continu-
ing the example, whoever paid last time, and how everyone felt about
it, in all likelihood will colour the emotional atmosphere of the next
encounter. Finally, over long chains of encounters the general align-
ment of those involved will determine their ongoing moods and, as a
consequence, how distant or close they become.

Interpersonal control and intimacy

Chapter 4 takes up the issue of interpersonal power, control and influ-

ence in intimacy. When circumstances permit, individuals try to min-
imise uncertainty and unpredictability in their relationships with others
and this is linked to their ability to derive psycho-emotional benefits
from intimate contact – such as support, approval, love, companion-
ship, self-disclosure and so on. Emotions are the key to this process in
which a relatively stable and well-adjusted sense of self-identity results
from interpersonal negotiations of control and influence. Thus people
are continually involved in power – in the positive sense of empower-
ment – through acts of personal mastery and what I call ‘benign control’,
or mutually negotiated relations of control and influence that meet the
needs of all those involved and which minimise manipulation based on
self-interest.
Since intimacy requires psychological and physical closeness, mutual
benign forms of power and control are most relevant to its success.
But it is mistaken to think of mutually satisfying intimacy as totally
pure, unsullied by elements of selfishness or milder forms of manipula-
tion. In this sense, ‘softer’ persuasive and manipulative control often
plays a central role. Only when there is excessive disregard for the
rights, needs and desires of another in a personal relationship, does con-
trol and influence become more manipulative and exploitative – as in
instances of emotional blackmail or psychological bullying. Three of the
six types outlined in Chapter 2 represent intimate relationships based
on mutual benign, or benign-manipulative, control. The other three
are more closely linked with manipulation exploitation. But all six are
closely related in the sense that they often contain elements or mix-
tures of elements from each other. While mutually satisfying intimacy
will, from time to time, contain manipulative or oppressive elements,
the more exploitative types may occasionally be punctuated by brief or
perfunctory gestures of care or affection.
 Understanding Couple Intimacy 5

In this regard some kinds of manipulation, oppressiveness or pre-

tence are more or less socially acceptable than others. They do not, in
every case, refer to situations in which people are duped or coerced.
Perhaps more disturbingly, partners or friends often freely accept some
level of manipulation, oppressiveness or pretence as ‘normal’ or accept-
able. Of course, mutually satisfying intimate relationships rely on open
communication and fluid alterations of power. But the sine qua non
of optimal intimacy is that no one person dominates the relation-
ship over time. If power positions become rigidly entrenched, then
lines of communication also begin to close down and intimacy rapidly
deteriorates.

Intimacy skills, clashing styles and arguments

Chapter 5 focuses on the notion of intimacy as an art requiring partic-

ular skills such as being able to communicate affection or care, being
able to talk about sensitive emotional issues (say, insecurities or desires)
and being able to empathise. The more skilled a person is in the arts
of intimacy, the more this contributes to her or his subjective powers –
by boosting or depleting confidence, energy and enthusiasm. It is clear
that some individuals are more skilled at intimacy than others. But, it is
far more contentious to claim that differences in intimacy skills can be
predicted by gender (Cameron 2007). In this regard enduring popular
stereotypes suggesting that women are more accomplished than men in
the interpersonal skills required for intimacy are reinforced by studies
based on the assumption that there are ‘fundamental’ or ‘essential’ dif-
ferences between men’s and women’s conversational styles and ways of
relating (Gray 1992, Tannen 1992, 2002; Baron-Cohen 2004).
However, as Cameron points out, while there is scant evidence to sup-
port these claims, there is plenty of other evidence to suggest alternative,
more complex explanations. The social domains perspective that frames
this current study supports the main thrust of Cameron’s argument, but
takes it into new theoretical territory. Thus, Chapter 5 evaluates claims
about gender differences in intimacy skills (such as the evidence for,
and purpose of, cooperative – or ‘rapport talk’ – or of empathetic skills
in men and women). However, the evaluation is made in the light of the
influence of multiple social domains on social behaviour, and the way
in which different forms of power and control play a leading role in the
interpersonal dynamics of intimacy.
Chapter 6 turns the spotlight on other issues related to differences in
intimacy skills. In particular, it asks questions about whether individual
6 Intimacy and Power

differences in style of communication have implications for attitudes

towards self-disclosure and thus for the quality of intimacy or the fate
of relationships. Conflict styles and the arguments they facilitate are
also crucially important in influencing how partners get on with one
another on a day-to-day basis. However, the main focus of Chapter 6
concerns the distinction between direct and indirect forms of commu-
nication and the effects that clashing individual styles have on couple’s
feelings and emotions. It is important to distinguish between different
forms of indirectness in the expression of emotion in order to tease
out their implications for intimacy. In this respect personal control and
emotional blocking are of pivotal importance.

Intimacy strategies: Personal repertoires

Given that couples pursue agendas formed around their emotional and
psychological needs, the question of how they pursue them becomes cru-
cial, and this is the focus of Chapter 7. Each person tends to employ her
or his own favoured methods and means of achieving what they want
or need. Such strategies, ploys and skills are part of a personal repertoire
of control manoeuvres and may be in the service of benign or exploita-
tive motives – and the positive and negative emotions that go along
with them. The emotional architecture that underpins self-identities
plays a large part in shaping personal repertoires of interpersonal con-
trol and influence. In a sense a person’s preferred strategies and ploys
will be directly related to her or his psycho-emotional agenda within
the relationship – what they want, need or desire from intimate part-
ners. But intimate relationships also require joint emotion work in order
to preserve their integrity.
As for specific strategies, ploys or manoeuvres, there is a considerable
range of possibilities depending on whether the relationship is mutu-
ally satisfying or in serious decline. Mutually satisfying relationships can
be expected to include various forms of (psychological) seduction and
persuasion, enrolment, deals and pacts and so on, as well as ‘inverted’
manipulation – like giving away power and emotionally ‘rescuing’ a
partner. At the other end of the scale, strategies include exploitative
manipulation such as emotional blackmail or psychological terrorism.

Games, erosion and plurality in modern intimacy

In Chapters 8 and 9, I describe some typical energising and energy-

draining power and control games to be found in committed
relationships. This extends the analysis of personal strategies, tactics
 Understanding Couple Intimacy 7

and ploys to more complex ‘patterns of relating’ that develop over

the longer term. Intimacy ‘games’ emerge from the combined interplay
of individual behaviour, personal relationships and chains of everyday
encounters (Collins 2005). In pursuing their respective agendas, pur-
poses and strategies, intimates either support and enhance, or diminish
and undermine one another’s self-esteem and self-confidence. ‘Energy-
draining’ games channel physical and emotional energy away from a
relationship through the absence of loving gestures or support, or by
deliberate efforts of partners to wound or attack one another. Energising
games work on the reverse principle. Through care, support and loving
gestures, individuals and relationships are energised precisely because
intimates confirm or boost one another’s self-confidence, self-esteem
and approval.
Mutually satisfying intimacy rests on a delicate balance of an array of
tensions and forces such as that between individuality (personal space)
and the need for togetherness. The continuous shifting of the focus and
balance of power is also integral to optimal intimacy because it allows
partners to genuinely share in setting the direction and tone of the
relationship. Permanent or complete equality does not exist in such a
relationship. The survival of mutually satisfying intimacy rests on the
continual rotation of power and control in tandem with open dialogue.
Partners take the lead on a broadly equitable basis. But even the best of
personal relationships never reach an ideal or ‘pure’ state. Mutually sat-
isfying intimacy is always a ‘work in progress’. Even the most sort-after
intimacy – what I call ‘dynamic intimacy’ – rests on an ever-changing
(and thus inherently) fragile balance.
Chapter 10 confronts the fact of the fragility of modern intimacy
by examining how it rapidly degrades when its interpersonal sup-
ports are removed, accidentally damaged, or fall away as the result
of neglect. The chapter is driven by the question of why it is that a
great many relationships that were once mutually satisfying, while not
being destroyed completely, slowly but surely deteriorate, becoming flat
and de-energised. It examines some of the key interpersonal dynamics
that underlie the process of erosion and the unravelling of energising
intimacy games. Particularly important is the problem of emotional
blocking first raised in Chapter 6. A continuous cycle of emotional
blocking reinforces the conflicts and arguments generated by com-
munication problems between partners. Also crucial are problems of
habituation and the emotional estrangement it may cause.
Chapter 11 brings the different strands of the discussion together in
terms of a critical dialogue with the notion of the pure relationship.
The evidence and arguments offered in this book amply demonstrate
8 Intimacy and Power

that modern intimacy is multidimensional. There are significant varia-

tions in communication and self-disclosure and the quality and nature
of trust, commitment and satisfaction in close relationships. Although
it is undoubtedly true that modern intimacy is fragile, the reasons for
its fragility are not necessarily those that the proponents of the pure
relationship suggest. In this regard the important role of interpersonal
power and control is vastly underplayed, if not overlooked entirely. In
short, modern intimacy is plural, complex and nuanced in ways not
envisaged by the pure relationship.
Chapter 12 pursues these questions further in relation to more general
issues in social theory. First, the analysis of intimacy presented in this
book relies on the theory of social domains with its multidimensional
view of power. This provides a central vantage from which to criti-
cally evaluate some of Goffman’s, Giddens’ and Collins’ views on the
nature of interpersonal relations, human subjectivity and their relation
to structural and institutional phenomena. Some of the inadequacies
of these views stem from an inability to embrace a multidimensional
view of power and to acknowledge the relatively independent proper-
ties of social domains. Finally, the chapter traces some of these more
general theoretical ideas and concepts and their implications for the
pure relationship.

Modern intimacy: A many splendoured thing

Giddens suggests that ‘mutual disclosure’ is central to modern intimacy

and while he has a point, he also overstates the case. Undoubtedly,
there has been an intensification of mutual disclosure and an increas-
ing recognition of its importance. However, the distinctive feature of
modern intimacy is not mutual disclosure per se, but the various forms
it may take. Disclosure comes in varying forms and degrees, depend-
ing on the needs of the intimates and how their relationship plays out,
emotionally and practically. The same is true of trust and commitment.
Varying standards of mutual satisfaction, communication, disclosure,
trust and commitment emerge from the ever-present flow of negotiation
and ‘emotion work’ in intimacy. Just as there is no single type of inti-
macy, so there are no uniform versions of trust and commitment. In this
respect I have to agree with Jamieson (1998) that modern intimacy is
multidimensional – it is various and many-sided. While Jamieson tends
to focus on variations in intimacy deriving from structural influences,
this study concentrates on the crucial importance of interpersonal fac-
tors. The social domains view of intimacy not only suggests variation in
 Understanding Couple Intimacy 9

types of intimacy, but also suggests variation in underpinning forms of

power and control. Even the most ‘balanced’ relationships are based on
shifting patterns of power and control.
Mutual benign control enables couples (or friends) to obtain what
they need and desire from one another in the way of love, approval,
validation, companionship and so on. Crucially, however, it not only
involves taking control, but also involves swapping, and relinquishing
it at different times. The very close link between benign control and
more manipulative and coercive forms is also of great importance. That
these two seemingly opposite types of power and control can so easily
slip, or morph into each other, is the underlying reason why personal
relationships are so various. Intimacy cannot be measured only by its
‘optimal’ manifestations even though these may be its most sort-after,
or socially acceptable. Benign and exploitative intimacy are two sides of
the same coin, they are mirror images that exist – to differing extents –
in all its forms. Thus, in this sense, to speak of ‘pure’ relationships is
rather misleading.
Control in personal relationships ranges from benign, seductive and
persuasive influence, through the manipulation of emotional blackmail
and ending up with the extremes of emotional terrorism, bullying and
physical coercion. Although routine intimacy games and relationship
habits are similarly divided between benign and exploitative types, they
are also closely related. Thus there are mutually satisfying, energising
intimacy games as well as energy-draining ones, more closely resembling
war zones. But again, they are never simply pure types. They contain
diverse elements – bits and pieces – of others, lumped together in a
unique amalgam.
The mixture of benign and exploitative, satisfying and unsatisfying
intimacy speaks to the fact that close relationships are frequently sul-
lied by jealousy, disappointment, even despair (Craib 1998). Problems
are intrinsic to personal relationships. Sometimes they appear right
from the start, but in the main they emerge after the first exciting fris-
sons of ‘getting to know one other’ have worn off. Only when the
routine aspects of day-to-day life are under way, are personalities and
relationship compatibilities really tested. In long-term relationships,
‘habituation’ – especially as it concerns problems around taking one
another for granted – is perhaps the greatest enemy of intimacy. Such
problems tax to the full the ingenuity of partners or friends as they try
to keep their enthusiasm for, and commitment to, one another alive
and fresh.
2
The Varieties of Couple Intimacy

Modern intimacy is varied and plural rather than uniform and

standardised as implied in the notion of the pure relationship. This
complex and multidimensional view is supported by evidence from a
number of research studies offering ‘alternative’ accounts of the nature
of modern intimacy (Reibstein 1997, Marshall 2006, Miller 1995). The
six types of intimate relationship identified later in the chapter are
consistent with both the primary data from these studies (based on hun-
dreds of hours of interviews and structured conversations with couples)
and the secondary analysis of countless other empirically based studies
(see Jamieson 1998 for an overview of such studies). A critical evalua-
tion of these alternative accounts, and the evidence on which they are
based, suggests that contemporary intimacy can be best understood in
relation to a varied spectrum of types of personal relationship routinely
found in couples and friends.

The emergence of the pure relationship

Both Giddens (1991, 1992) and Beck and Beck-Gernsheim (1995 – orig-
inally published in German in 1990) have developed accounts of the
emergence of ‘the pure relationship’ in the modern era. They claim that
this type of relationship has come to characterise intimate relationships
as societies have moved away from pre-modern or traditional forms in
which intimacy was governed by external criteria and the fixed rules
and values enshrined in tradition. For example, marriage was the result
of parental arrangement in order to cement an economic or political
alliance, while ‘friendship’ hardly existed as a personal tie distinct from
family membership. With the advent of the Western world changes
in social structure have brought about a process of individualisation

10
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 11

whereby people have become progressively freed from the restraints and
constraints of traditional precepts and certainties, external control and
moral laws, like those of religion and social class. In this respect per-
sonal biographies are now shaped by individual decisions and initiative.
Family, marriage, parenthood, love and sexuality are no longer defined
in a standard fashion; they ‘vary in substance, expectations, norms and
morality from individual to individual and from relationship to relation-
ship’. Love itself becomes ‘a blank that lovers must fill in themselves’
(Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 1995: 5). In the form of the pure relation-
ship love has replaced religion and social class in so far as it ‘gives life
purpose and meaning’ (1995: 182), and has become something akin to
a ‘latter day secular religion’ (1995: 175).
Giddens suggests that the pure relationship ‘exists solely for whatever
rewards that relationship can deliver’ (1991: 6). A pure relationship ‘is
where a social relation is entered into for its own sake’ and ‘is continued
only so far as it is thought by both parties to deliver enough satisfaction
for each individual to stay within it’ (1992: 58). Marriage or cohabita-
tion has become a contract between two equal persons who expect to
be emotionally and sexually satisfied by the relationship or they may
leave and start another relationship with someone else. Friendship in
modernity has likewise become a distinctive form of personal relation-
ship entered into for its own sake. If the friends find they no longer
gain mutual benefit from their bond then it may fall into disuse or be
broken off.
Beck and Beck-Gernsheim emphasise the importance of labour mar-
ket influences on the process of individualisation. Men and women are
released from gender roles but at the same time are forced to build a life
of their own in line with the imperatives of the labour market – such as
training offers, social welfare regulations and benefits and job mobility.
An individual’s biography is planned around the requirements of the
job market.
The fact that increasingly both partners are pursuing their own labour
market biographies (because of women’s greater participation in the
labour force) comes into conflict with the demands of relationships
and this causes the ‘chaos of love’ that characterises modern intimacy.
The freeing up from tradition and external control requires that inti-
mate relationships are conducted and expressed in terms of partner’s
(or friend’s) own rules and decision-making which, as a consequence,
makes them increasingly fragile. At the same time, the fragility of
intimacy is further compounded by the difficulties created by the pur-
suance of two distinct labour market biographies (rather than meshing
12 Intimacy and Power

one labour market biography with a ‘life-long housework biography’

[1995: 6]).
In the pure relationship, says Giddens, ‘trust can be mobilised only by
a process of mutual disclosure’ (1991: 6). Jamieson (1998) calls this ‘dis-
closing intimacy’ where thoughts and feelings are constantly revealed to
one another. This is, in effect, a disclosure of the self – a phenomenon
tied to what Giddens calls the reflexive project of the self. Disclosure of
this type can lead to strong relations of trust and commitment which
play a huge psychological role in cementing close bonds in the absence
of external criteria (fixed, traditional rules and values). What keeps a
pure relationship together is a freely given psychological and emotional
investment in one another – as reflected in high levels of commitment
and trust.
It is entirely up to the intimates themselves how they set the terms of
their relationship and what rules and standards they apply to their con-
duct towards each other. The modern era is unique in so far as intimate
relationships are created and renegotiated every day ‘and not bound to
fixed normative and value systems’ (Kaspersen 2000: 107). Another fea-
ture of pure relationships particularly in couples is what Giddens calls
‘plastic sexuality’. This refers to ‘recreational’ sexuality freed from the
constraints of reproduction and which may become part of an individ-
ual’s lifestyle and/‘or a process of self-realisation’. As a vitally personal
expression of the depth (or otherwise) of mutual feelings such sexu-
ality is likely (though not necessarily) to be involved in the ongoing
recreation and renegotiation of commitment and the expression of
emotional satisfaction.
In this account of the pure relationship the emphasis is on the soci-
ological problem of the nature of the transition from traditional to
modern societies and the social processes and changes implicated in it.
In this sense the type of intimacy defined by the pure relationship is
thought to be a by-product of this transition. Clearly, this is a legitimate
and important sociological problem. However, making the contrast
between tradition and modernity the focus of analytic interest in inti-
macy necessitates a trade-off in terms of explanatory adequacy. It forces
the analysis into very broad-brush characterisations of the changes
involved in personal relationships. By compressing these changes under
the single rubric of ‘the pure relationship’, much of the subtlety and
complexity of modern intimacy, as it is lived and experienced by real
couples and friends, is overlooked.
The upshot of this is that elements of intimacy such as trust, com-
mitment and disclosure are viewed in a rather general and standardised
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 13

manner. The different hues, gradations, subtleties and complexities of

everyday personal relationships (of couples and/or friends) tend to be
ironed out of account.
For this reason the rest of the discussion will bracket out the issue
of the transition from pre-modernity to modernity and concentrate
attention on the interpersonal dimension of intimacy. By examining
alternative analyses and sources of evidence on the nature of personal
relationships in modern society, the pure relationship can be viewed
in a wider perspective which makes it easier to identify some of its
shortcomings.

Protective-dependent love

Reibstein has offered a view of relationships between married and/or

cohabiting couples, which differs from what she regards as the some-
what idealised (even ‘pernicious’) implications of the pure relationship
(1997: 23). While based on a similar optimism about modern intimacy –
such as the efficacy of committed relationships – Reibstein presents what
she sees as a more ‘realistic’ analysis grounded in everyday relationship
problems. Reibstein’s pivotal claim is that what makes for a happy rela-
tionship between couples over time is that they place a concern for
protecting each other at the centre of their lives. Such a relationship
takes the form of a protective alliance in which each partner is reliant
on the other for the provision of security, loyalty and understanding.
Additional factors are the willingness to give time, attention and energy
to each other as well as acknowledging and appreciating each other’s
value. Expressing gratitude and appreciation for each other leads to a
balanced ‘give and take’, which in turn gives rise to mutual pleasure.
This form of protective dependency derives from the model of parent–
child relationships in which parents put their children’s welfare centre-
stage as a way of dealing with the intense dependence of the child on
them in the early years. Of course, adults are not literally dependent on
each other in the same ways as children are on their parents or caretak-
ers. However, Reibstein is suggesting that the mutual security afforded
by a protective alliance allows for a certain kind of reciprocal psycho-
logical dependency that can be fruitful for intimate relationships. It
enables partners to acknowledge each other’s vulnerability by providing
a safe and secure context in which such self and emotional exposure is
possible. By appreciating the other’s vulnerability each recognises their
ability to hurt and wound one another. The dangerous assumption that
only you are vulnerable, while your partner is not, is thus dismantled.
14 Intimacy and Power

Protective dependency therefore makes for a truly supportive basis for

close personal relationships. It produces the kind of psycho-emotional
interdependence that allows genuine mutuality to thrive.
Reibstein is keen to establish the distinctiveness of her position, sug-
gesting that her book flies in the face of much current thinking in so far
as she claims that people should need to depend on each other. This is
the opposite of the predominant cultural stress on the value of indepen-
dence – an ideal that is also espoused by feminism and psychoanalysis.
In fact, the striving for independence and the conventional equation
of ‘maturity’ with self-reliance is one of the main reasons why couple
intimacy is experiencing so many problems and difficulties. The latter,
as evidenced in high divorce rates, and the rising number of affairs –
especially among women – are, for Reibstein, the result of the mod-
ern tendency to regard dependence as pathological rather than normal.
In this light protective-dependent love is seen as weak and regressive.
Dependence is a dirty word. In order to overcome such tendencies Reib-
stein suggests that we need to redefine adult love by placing the need
for protection at its centre, thus making the impulse to be in love in a
protective way, normal (1997: 10).
Indeed, the reason why so many modern marriages and partnerships
are in trouble is that they are failing to provide a protective alliance.
Reibstein points to evidence that suggests that even those who stay mar-
ried for a lifetime together regard their relationships as ‘just alright’ and
that in many long-term marriages the expectation is that partners will
settle for less and less. Typically, couples will arrive at a situation where
they begin to ask questions like ‘whatever happened to the boy/girl I
once knew?’ or, ‘how have we ended up politely co-existing like this?’ At
the same time these same people are reluctant to say they are ‘unhappy’
and, therefore, they have no real right to complain.
Of course, there are more persistent and long-term problems facing
couples, often resulting in unambiguous unhappiness and which may,
in fact, signal the end of the relationship. Such a state of affairs is the
result of what Reibstein refers to as a ‘downward spiral’ in an intimate
relationship. But leaving aside those relationships that are irretrievably
broken, Reibstein notes that, at various times, most close relationships
undergo upward and downward spirals of a less extreme form (1997:
145–64). Downward spirals may be initiated by what she calls ‘unavoid-
able obstacles’ and ‘transition points’ which include divided loyalties
(between partner’s families), the birth of child, the middle years of
childrearing and the post children phase. They may also be caused by
‘abnormal crises’ such as illness, disability, death or unexpected losses
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 15

(of job or home). To these I would add important phenomena such as

partners growing apart in their interests or goals, or the emotional drift
caused by habituation and familiarity (Duncombe and Marsden 1995).
According to Reibstein, to save or resuscitate relationships in trou-
ble, the therapeutic task is to transform downward spirals into upward
ones, and this can only be achieved by endeavouring to make a pro-
tective alliance the heart of the relationship if it wasn’t in the first
place, or to restore it if it was in disrepair. The nature of such thera-
peutic aims is not presently of central interest (although I have more to
say about some of the hidden dangers of protective-dependent love in
Chapter 11). However, of great importance is Reibstein’s acknowledge-
ment that downward and upward spirals are routine features of intimate
relationships. This is crucial in distinguishing her position on modern
intimacy from that associated with the pure relationship.
Indeed, according to Reibstein, the ideology of independence
enshrined in the notion of the pure relationship is an important rea-
son why it is a struggle to stay in love. She suggests that the pure
relationship rests on the ‘insidious idea that the romance which set off
the courtship remains the spark plug of the relationship’ (1997: 23).
Whether or not such a relationship works is measured in terms of ‘how
good does it make me feel?’ and this becomes the criterion for its contin-
ued existence. But, says Reibstein, a host of social problems are created
by the instability caused by modern relationships failing to measure
up to such stringent standards. By contrast, modern relationships are
‘under siege’ much of the time and ‘even happy couples experience
periods of being disgruntled with the quality of their relationships’.
In this sense relationships do not automatically ‘work’ nor is mutual
satisfaction automatically achieved. The reality of modern relationships
involves acknowledging the problems arising from ‘day to day rubbing
along together’. These can only be overcome through continuous deli-
cate negotiations pivoting ‘around the idea that each partner needs and
wants protection from the other’ (1997: 24).
Clearly, Reibstein’s notion of protective-dependent love is directed
against some of the idealised assumptions built into the notion of the
pure relationship. By suggesting that the everyday reality of modern
intimacy is a fairly messy and pragmatic affair, Reibstein’s approach
opens up the possibility that close relationships are many-sided. That
modern intimacy is ambiguous, complex and problematic makes for
a stark contrast with the idealised ‘purity’ of the pure relationship.
A crucial point is that Reibstein contends that a routine feature of
even ‘happy’ relationships is their propensity to experience upward and
16 Intimacy and Power

downward spirals. In my opinion this suggests that close relationships

may take on transitional forms – and I shall take up this idea later in the
discussion.
The idea that intimacy both requires and is, therefore, the result of
continuous negotiations centring on the needs and problems of part-
ners ‘rubbing along together’ also open up the possibility that trust,
commitment and ‘satisfaction’ may vary. It is also consistent with the
idea that they vary according to the interpersonal ‘state of play’ in a
relationship at any one point in time. Indeed, ‘time’ as it is reflected in
the gradual unfolding (or thwarting) of close relationships suggests that
modern intimacy is best understood as a graded, many-sided and ever-
developing interpersonal process. There is nothing unified and fixed
about intimacy.

Types of love and intimacy

Marshall’s (2006) study of couples presents a similar kind of analysis to

that of Reibstein by concentrating on the practical, everyday realities
and problems of sustaining optimal intimacy over time. However, Mar-
shall’s realism is even more pronounced and, if anything, veers more
towards the pessimistic side than Reibstein. While Marshall shares a
concern about trying to rescue troubled relationships (he too is a marital
therapist), he gives greater weight to the difficulties that lie in the way of
intimate relationships. Marshall’s approach is driven by the question –
‘what happens when the passion goes?’
In this sense Marshall is concerned with how couples deal with their
relationship after the initial passionate absorption in each other has –
inevitably – waned, and how they face having to adjust to the rather
hum-drum problems of daily life. All too often, observes Marshall, part-
nerships become defined by companionship rather than passion (even
though sex may still play a part). These people often still cared about
each other but they (or just one of them) had fallen out of love and
though not wishing to hurt anyone, wanted to end the relationship.
These are the kinds of relationships that Marshall feels are summarised
in terms of the phrase ‘I love you, but I’m not in love with you’.
Marshall suggests we can understand what happens here by making
some distinctions between different kinds of ‘love’. First, love may be
defined in terms of the early days of ‘honey moon’ passion (referred to
as ‘limerence’) which lasts between a year and eighteen months. This is
characterised by a tendency for the couple to merge into a ‘oneness’, in
which sexual activity is intense and where ‘all differences are overlooked
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 17

or ignored as two people blend into one’ (Marshall 2006: 31). After this,
what Marshall calls ‘loving attachment’ usually takes over. The magic
and brilliance of limerence is not enough to sustain a relationship,
something more is needed. An unfortunate myth about romantic love
is contained in the idea that once we have found our partner we can
relax and that love will automatically help us through any problems.
However, in the state of limerence, lovers are bound to each other no
matter how badly they behave, and tend to see each other’s weaknesses
as strengths. This contrasts with ‘loving attachment’, which needs to be
worked at, otherwise it will die. This is made all the more acute because
as couples become long term they become aware of the need to accom-
modate their partner’s differences and weaknesses in order to sustain
intimacy. Also, loving attachment demands that the couple begin to
grapple with the complexities of life and its practical demands (such as
work, having children and so on) and this requires rather more than
their love ‘to keep them warm’.
If the couple don’t develop the necessary skills to sustain intimacy
as relationships develop from limerence to loving attachment, then the
quality of their loving attachment itself may suffer. When this is the
case ‘love’ may be transformed into a third type – ‘affectionate regard’
which is generally what we feel for parents, children, siblings and best
friends. This kind of love makes us want to care for someone, but we do
not feel that our destiny is entwined with theirs in the same way as with
loving attachment. Marshall says that in the ‘I love you but I’m not
in love with you’ syndrome, the ‘I love you’ invariably means ‘I have
affectionate regard for you’.
As noted, those who feel that their relationship has dwindled into
this state often want to end it because it lacks passionate fulfilment and
emotional satisfaction. On the other hand, for a host of reasons, many
people endure such an unsatisfactory state of affairs whilst building up
resentment and anger towards their partner. In such relationships there
is a loss of communication, an inability to reach out to the other either
physically or emotionally, and a tendency to detach and drift apart. Very
often there is ‘polite sex’ rather than ‘intimate love making’ and the cou-
ple may even ‘consider their marriage to be good even if the lovemaking
is routine and unfulfilled’ (2006: 109).
Marshall notes that issues around self-identity and difference often
characterise relationships like this. One aspect of this is that some cou-
ples avoid open confrontation and pretend that their differences do not
exist. But by not acknowledging differences, and confronting the ones
that cause trouble, it is easy to let the relationship drift. Another related
18 Intimacy and Power

problem is that that either one or both will complain of having become
a rather amorphous couple and losing their identity as a consequence.
They fail to strike the balance between finding enough similarities with
their partner to sustain a long-term connection while, at the same time,
having enough differences from them in order to stop the relationship
stagnating. Some ‘friction’ based on difference between partners pro-
vides the spark of passion (Perel 2007). Yet another cause (or indeed
consequence) for relationship stagnation of this kind involves the kind
of emotional infidelity that arises from ‘inappropriate friendships’.
Successful, happy couples are those who have learnt to allow each
other a measure of independence, to compromise over their differences
and take risks (instead of being defensive and putting up barriers). They
also tend to set aside time for one another, to have a laugh together, and
through action rather than words, demonstrate their affection for each
other (Marshall 2006: 183–93). Without these skills intimate relation-
ships are likely to become soured and clogged with resentments and
hurts. As with Reibstein’s analysis, but with more emphasis on its pit-
falls and downsides, Marshall’s analysis opens up the possibility that
intimate relationships are more complex and variable than envisaged in
the pure relationship.

Intimate terrorism

On the basis of his own research evidence, Miller (1995) takes this kind
of approach yet another step further down the road of pessimism about
modern couple intimacy. He suggests that today relationships are best
characterised by the term ‘intimate terrorism’ which conveys the dis-
solution of the myth of romantic love which has been influential for
so long. Drawing on psychology, sociology and literature as well as his
therapeutic practice, Miller argues that modern intimacy has become
contaminated by power and struggles for power in relationships. In this
sense Miller paints a picture that is a far cry from the ideal of the pure
relationship with its preoccupation with egalitarianism and intimacy
as a vehicle for emotional satisfaction. Now I don’t agree that modern
intimacy should be characterised entirely by the notion of emotional
terrorism as Miller seems to suggest, but his account provides an impor-
tant corrective to the overly optimistic and idealised notion of the pure
relationship. Also, Miller’s emphasis on the importance of the relation
between power and love is one that clearly resonates with the wider
framework of my argument.
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 19

Although a concern with power and control is undoubtedly crucial

and leads Miller to deal with some interesting aspects of the use and mis-
use of power in intimacy, I substantially disagree with the way in which
he defines power and control and their relation to intimacy. Succinctly
put, Miller’s account does not allow for the existence of benign forms
of power and control that are absolutely pivotal to my own account.
He follows so many writers on power by mistakenly construing it in
entirely negative terms and, thus, in opposition to love (and intimacy).
In this sense for Miller, love or intimacy is different from power since
power is manipulative and exploitative whilst love, on the other hand,
‘cannot be controlled; it is freely given, or it becomes little more than a
coerced charade’ (1995: 31).
But this is a skewed account of power. In a general sense, power is
an abstract capacity; it is not a particular kind of behaviour or an out-
come of that behaviour. That is, power is about the ability to do things,
transform circumstances or bring about change. Thus, power and con-
trol may be in the service of either benign or malign intentions, and
their behavioural consequences. In this sense benign forms of power and
control are essential to the capacity for love and for the caring responses
that go with it. Only through interpersonal influence and control (as
reflected in the capacity for love and empathy and so on) can a per-
son elicit loving responses from another, and thus create and sustain a
close personal relationship. It is only manipulative forms of power and
control – those that ride roughshod over the wishes, desires and inten-
tions of others – that are inimical to intimacy. Thus, a certain kind of
power and control is generative of love and intimacy, while other kinds
diminish or undermine them.
It is important to bear this distinction in mind when making global
statements about the relation of power and intimacy of the kind Miller
makes. In this light we have to severely qualify Miller’s claims that ‘the
confusion of love and power can be damaging to both relationships and
individuals’ and that ‘being able to distinguish between the relative pro-
portions of love and power in any relationship seems to me essential
to the health of the relationship’ (1995: 24). Clearly, love cannot be
coerced or controlled in a manipulative or exploitative sense, but it is
impossible for intimacy to be created or sustained without the interper-
sonal influence of benign power and control. Thus it is emphatically not
a matter of confusing power with love, but of confusing love with a cer-
tain kind of power. Bearing in mind this problematic but crucial matter,
let us examine the core of Miller’s arguments.
20 Intimacy and Power

Modern relationships and intimate terrorism

A couple is engaged in intimate terrorism when their more usual day-

to-day concerns – with finances, moods, love-making and so on – have
become contaminated and overtaken by a power struggle for control
of the relationship. Although the struggle may seem to be a response
to disappointments, misunderstandings and grievances, Miller argues
that the main culprit is the expansion of anxiety that ‘plagues all erotic
love’. In this context, ‘intimate partners get trapped in a vicious cycle of
complementary anxieties – fears each has of either being abandoned or
engulfed by the other’ (1995:28). Abandonment anxiety is based on the
fear of occupying a void left behind by the departure of another, while
engulfment anxiety is the fear of being swallowed up or dominated by
the other’s constant needs.
In intimate terrorism the partners are preoccupied with attacking
one another’s autonomy and security and although neither of them
is ready to give up the other ‘each has the aim of seizing control
of the relationship’ (1995: 30) in order to make it seem more safe
and predictable. In this sense anxiety results in an attempt to con-
trol what cannot be controlled, because, as Miller rightly points out,
love cannot be controlled. Abandonment and engulfment anxieties
create a profound sense of powerlessness. Efforts to seize control of
the relationship represent an attempt to overcome feelings of power-
lessness. Miller says that these power struggles rarely show up at first
‘because infatuation and courtship are so mutually satisfying, but they
often surface once the relationship becomes a matter of daily living’
(1995: 31).
An interesting point raised here is the idea that such relationships are
not necessarily abandoned. This contrasts sharply with the idea (implicit
in the pure relationship) that modern intimacy stands and falls in terms
of whether it provides mutual (positive) psycho-emotional satisfaction.
Failure in this respect usually means the end of the relationship and a
search for a new partner. Miller is suggesting that many couples become
locked together in a state of intimate terrorism – as a normal or rou-
tine form of co-existence. If anything, such a state of affairs could only
sustain a very negative sense of ‘mutual satisfaction’. But this, indeed, is
what Miller understands as the function of intimate terrorism. It is about
the need for coexistence however unpeaceful this may be. Intimate ter-
rorism keeps the relationship together, ‘even if this can be accomplished
only through suffering and coercion rather than pleasure and choice’
(1995: 36).
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 21

In this sense, ‘the manipulation of anxiety replaces love as the chief

means of social cohesion. It works because love and anxiety are so
closely allied, and when love fails to bind us to another person, anxi-
ety can fulfil the same function.’ As Miller puts it, ‘you could say that
intimate terrorism is the dark underside of love, a form of negative love.
It consists of two people clinging to one another in an atmosphere of
mutual intimidation’ (1995: 37). Partners in such a situation realise they
are creating their own misery but are no longer sure about whether
they are choosing to stick together. Instead, they both feel ‘stuck’ – in a
prison of their own making. They feel that there are no options open to
them – they can’t part, but neither can they live together differently –
even though each may spend a good deal of time fantasising about such
possibilities.
The desire for commitment, security and trust in the context of a
meaningful relationship remains strong, but when love disappears the
partners prefer to settle for intimate terrorism, rather than experience
the aloneness of separation. The pleasure of loving exchanges is replaced
by strategies of power and control, which provide an equivalent sense
of ‘intense relatedness’. Here, clearly, notions of commitment, satisfac-
tion, trust and so on become transformed into hybrid forms to replace
the earlier ones, while continuing to serve the same function of keeping
the relationship together – albeit in a rather destructive context.
It is interesting to compare Miller’s account of modern intimacy –
as typified by intimate terrorism – in relation to my own. Further
on I describe six types of intimate relationship reflecting the plural-
ity and complexity of modern intimacy. Elements of all six types can
be discerned in the different empirically based studies reviewed here.
In this respect Miller’s discussion of intimate terrorism is too gener-
alised. Characterising modern intimacy entirely as intimate terrorism is
an over-simplification that fails to acknowledge or register the nuances,
subtleties and complexities involved in close relationships today. In
that sense it is the obverse of the pure relationship account – it simply
replaces one over-general account with another, equally general one.
However, the undoubted usefulness and importance of the idea of inti-
mate terrorism lies in its portrayal of the opposite end of the spectrum
of intimacy to that of the pure relationship. This is evident both in its
pessimism and in its depiction of an alternative range of possibilities.
With regard to the broad spectrum (the six types) of intimate rela-
tionship that I identify, intimate terrorism seems pertinent to several
of them. For my purposes it is more appropriate to think in terms of
degrees of intimate terrorism ranging from milder to more volatile forms.
22 Intimacy and Power

With reference to the latter, Miller often seems to be talking about what
I call ‘manipulative’ or ‘oppressive’ types of intimacy – those in which
exploitative power and control is most evident. By way of contrast, some
of his examples of intimate terrorism come from the ‘milder’ end of the
spectrum and are thus more pertinent to what I call ‘episodic’, ‘semi-
detached’ or ‘pretence intimacy’ in which there still remains some (if
only residual) evidence of benign power and control. Of course, this
underlines the importance of the distinction between different types of
power (which Miller overlooks), for an overall understanding of the full
range of types of intimate relationship.
An ever-present background to Miller’s account of intimate terrorism
is a focus on the ‘disappointments inherent in marriage itself’ or in how
‘romantic love has failed us’ (1995: 79). Partly, disappointment is the
result of the unrealistic burden of expectations placed on love and mar-
riage. More pragmatically, some degree of disappointment inevitably
sets in once the initial passion has run its course, and this poses the
question of how couples deal with it. Often, relationships beset by bitter
irreconcilable quarrels don’t simply end with the partners heading for
the divorce courts. Instead, in many cases, ‘the war gradually attenuates
into a standoff, and the relationship, drained of vitality and meaning,
continues to exist in sullen climate of alienation and chronic discontent’
(1995: 80).
Another theme is the way in which troubled couples attempt to cre-
ate a safety zone in which they can protect themselves from too much
closeness and too much aloneness by ‘carefully editing their intimacy,
perhaps allowing close companionable affection with infrequent or no
sex’, or having ‘lots of sex with little or no demonstrable affection out
of bed’ (1995: 123). This, of course, is an attempt to create a sem-
blance of security in an environment of disappointment, sometimes
even of despair. But it is, ultimately, an empty security based on the
maintenance of a protective distance between them. They go through
fluctuating periods of relative quiet, ‘quarrels, affairs, confessions and
reconciliations, bouts of weeping and hurling ashtrays’ (1995: 133).
Affairs are important both in driving a wedge between the partners and
in creating ‘a buffer of safety from intimacy’ (1995: 136).
The experience of failure and disappointment and the ways in which
couples try to deal with them by creating a buffer zone, which both
keeps them together and keeps them apart at the same time, echo
some of the themes indicated by Marshall. More generally, they speak
to the way in which intimacy may unravel over time. But as I have
already intimated, these themes are relevant not only to the extremes
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 23

of intimate terrorism. In what I refer to as ‘manipulative’ and ‘oppres-

sive’ types of intimacy, exploitative power and control are at the fore.
Themes of alienation, distancing, editing intimacy and so on are also
very much part of ‘episodic’, ‘semi-detached’ and ‘pretence’ intimacy.
In these types, couples attempts to deal with each other retain some
vestige of benignity. Again, ‘intimate terrorism’ is too blanket a term
to deal with the transitional and intermediary stages in the unravel-
ling or transformation of intimacy – a process which traces the move
from a relatively benign, to a more insidious and exploitative state of
interpersonal affairs.

Disclosure, inequality and disappointment

The foregoing discussion of the works of Reibstein, Marshall and Miller

suggests that certain aspects of modern intimacy do not fit comfortably
with those implied in the pure relationship. In this section I examine
the work that is even more directly critical of it. On the basis of an
extensive review of studies of intimacy from the whole spectrum (that
is, including parent–children, kin and same sex relationships), Jamieson
(1998, 1999) suggests that modern relationships are not moving towards
the pure relationship based on the gender equality of the partners, as
Giddens assumes. Instead, there remain persistent inequalities of gender
that continue to influence intimate relationships. However, despite this,
she argues that modern intimate relationships are often more concerned
with ‘a range of creative identity and relationship saving strategies’
(my emphasis) and that ‘perhaps much more creative energy goes into
sustaining a sense of intimacy despite inequality’ (Jamieson 1998, my
emphasis).
However, it is possible to understand these phenomena in more than
one way. Jamieson sees them as most relevant where gender inequali-
ties work to unsettle the quality of intimacy in particular relationships.
Thus, ‘identity and relationship saving strategies’ and ‘sustaining a sense
of intimacy’ play important roles in propping up strained, persistently
troubled relationships, which might otherwise split asunder. In this
sense, ‘sustaining a sense of intimacy’ literally means creating a façade
or pretence of closeness in situations where it is clearly lacking.
But there are other more positive ways in which these phenom-
ena may be understood, especially in relation to couples experiencing
upward and downward spirals as Reibstein refers to them. Even opti-
mal intimacy (what I call dynamic intimacy) is not without its ups and
downs, its fair share of arguments and spats. Periodic upheavals and
24 Intimacy and Power

conflicts are a routine feature of even the best intimacy. Here the idea of
‘sustaining a sense of intimacy’ refers to the active and creative strate-
gies that keep a relationship vibrant by feeding the flow of benign power
and influence that energises successful intimacy. It refers to the emo-
tion work required from partners that is essential to maintaining the
vibrancy of intimate relationships.
Jamieson also suggests that the ‘disclosing intimacy’ implicit in the
pure relationship is not the dominant type of intimacy in most couple
relationships. She emphasises a gender dimension here, citing Dun-
combe and Marsden’s (1995) finding that men lack emotional openness
and that they were unwilling to participate in disclosing intimacy. She
also adds that there is much evidence of ‘men’s under-participation in
more practical loving and caring’. She concludes that

for most couples, intimacy was intertwined with and expressed

through practical arrangements of who did the household chores,
who spent what money and the like. Men and women did not bracket
off these aspects of their relationship in how they viewed each other
but saw them as part of how they loved or did not love each other.
(1998: 157)

Apart from practical care and support, Jamieson also notes that intimacy
can be conveyed through means other than self-disclosure, for exam-
ple through ‘silent intimacy’ where nothing much is said although the
partners ‘express’ love and care through, for example, physical presence
or acts of loyalty. The question of the variable nature of disclosure in
intimacy is important in distinguishing between the different types I
describe later in the chapter. I shall come back to this after reviewing
some of Craib’s (1992, 1994, 1998) criticisms of the pure relationship.
Craib questions the central role that ‘emotional satisfaction’ plays in
the pure relationship. He notes that if there is, indeed, any such thing as
emotional satisfaction, it is of a transient nature. When its effects have
peaked, so to speak, it is always followed by its opposite, the feeling of
dissatisfaction. In this sense satisfaction and dissatisfaction go hand in
hand – ‘simple satisfaction is never possible’ (1994: 123). The idea of
complete satisfaction, especially in intimacy, always remains a fantasy
never a reality, and to expect or demand it from our relationships is to
seek the impossible. Crucially, Craib suggests that imagining that com-
plete satisfaction is the goal of our relationships prevents us learning
from them – psychologically and emotionally – when they fail, or when
love disappears. Instead of enriching our knowledge of intimacy, people
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 25

and the world around us, the decline of love is experienced as personal
failure and deficiency.
Second, Craib points out that emotional satisfaction is not always
pleasant. There are times when talking to each other (self-disclosure)
actually makes things worse rather than better. Sometimes emotional
satisfaction involves ‘rows attacks, hurting and being hurt; this is part
and parcel of intimacy’ (1994: 124). Craib’s point is not that emotional
satisfaction isn’t part of intimate relationships, but that it is fragile,
unstable and contradictory and can involve negative and destructive
dimensions. Indeed, the very act of falling in love is usually followed
by a degree of disillusion when our partner fails to live up to the role
we have assigned to them. In this respect we should not approach rela-
tionships without the expectation of being unhappy for some of the
time. Craib isn’t saying that mutually destructive unhappiness should
be borne or endured or be better ended. Rather he’s pointing out that
the simple appearance of unhappiness should not be the reason for rais-
ing the possibility of ending the relationship. An essential part of this is
that in any relationship there will be ‘complex inequalities of effort’ and
in which ‘partners must be willing to exploit the other and be exploited
for periods’. In a long-term relationship, ‘hate can play as big a part as
love, and the relationship can contain passionate expressions of both’
(1994: 128).
Finally, Craib claims that ‘the level of self-revelation in a normal
relationship has to be limited to make it work’ (1994: 130). It is not nec-
essarily good for partners to tell each other every time they found other
people attractive, or if they always tell each other what they cannot
stand about each other. Sometimes it is important ‘not to talk’, especially
where this helps to avoid hurtful comments, unreasonable demands or
unwarranted attacks on the other. This continues the theme raised in
Jamieson’s work that self-disclosure in intimacy is much more variable
than that envisaged in the pure relationship. The extent and nature of
disclosure varies according to different types of intimacy.

Types of intimacy

In the following sections I outline six types of intimate relationship,

which build upon the idea that intimacy is much more variable and
complex than is presupposed in the notion of the pure relationship.
The preceding discussion of ‘alternative’ accounts of the nature of mod-
ern intimacy, and the evidence on which they are based, indicates the
existence of such variability. In my opinion the findings reported in
26 Intimacy and Power

these accounts are entirely consistent with, and provide the substan-
tive basis for, the typology of intimate relationships developed here.
(Although none of the accounts is organised in terms of different types
of intimacy.) The types are defined by the presence of several variable
characteristics of intimate relationships. These include the nature and
extent of disclosure, commitment, trust and sincerity; the emotional
atmosphere; the extent of emotional and sexual infidelity; the focus
or orientation of the partners; the nature of communication between
them; how ‘satisfaction’ is defined within the relationship. The full
range of types commonly found in couples (and to a lesser extent in
friendship) is as follows:

Dynamic
Episodic
Semi-detached
Pretence
Manipulative
Oppressive

Dynamic, episodic and semi-detached types cluster together, indicating

how they are, or may be, linked. Dynamic intimacy represents the opti-
mal form of intimacy – in which partners experience a high degree of
mutual satisfaction. The episodic and semi-detached types trace a pro-
gressive decrease in the quality of intimacy as the partners become more
and more dissatisfied with the arrangement. Clearly, some elements of
this ‘trajectory’ are documented in the findings of Reibstein, Marshall,
Craib and Miller although none of them distinguish between types of
intimacy. As already briefly mentioned in relation to Reibstein’s work,
regardless of how successful they are, all relationships routinely experi-
ence upward and downward changes in the quality of intimacy and the
degree of harmony of the partners.
By identifying episodic and semi-detached intimacy as ‘depreciated’
forms of dynamic intimacy, we can begin to understand changes in inti-
mate behaviour in terms of transitions between these types. There are
two possible sorts of transition. The first traces an inexorable decline in
a relationship (which may be gradual or rapid), and involves a move
from dynamic through to episodic and then to semi-detached intimacy.
If the couple don’t split up, a relationship like this may deteriorate even
further, ending up as mutual pretence, manipulation or oppressive inti-
macy (or a combination of them). On the other hand, transitions may
be associated with what Reibstein refers to as upward and downward
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 27

spirals in relationships. For example, this might involve a movement

from dynamic, to episodic, to semi-detached and back up to dynamic (or
episodic) as partners overcome (fully or partly) their problems. Clearly,
some relationships do not ‘fit’ just one type of intimacy – they may
contain overlapping aspects of several types of intimacy. Thus, for exam-
ple, elements of the manipulative or pretence types might co-exist with
aspects of episodic, semi-detached, even, dynamic intimacy.
The following descriptions of different types of intimacy have been
generated by a process of abstraction from the empirical findings of
studies such as those of Reibstein, Marshall, Miller, Craib (and others)
based on interviews, conversations with hundreds of couples, as well
as drawing on the authors’ therapeutic and counselling experience. It
is important to remember that this process means that my typological
descriptions sometimes depart from, and in a sense ‘go beyond’, the
original explanatory remit, or framework of the authors.

Dynamic intimacy

Relationships are never a harmonious balance of love, care and support.

However, overall dynamic intimacy has a good emotional atmosphere,
with negativity and unresolved conflicts playing only a minor role. Nei-
ther partner dominates. Instead, they either share or regularly swap
control with each having an opportunity to be ‘in the driving seat’.
As Craib (1994: 128) says, this often involves ‘complex inequalities of
effort’ in which ‘partners must be willing to exploit the other and be
exploited for periods’. Beyond this, partners encourage one another’s
freedom and independence to pursue separate interests, friendships and
contact with kin or work colleagues. They also allow one another to
grow independently, as individuals (Fromm 1971). In this sense, self-
development works to strengthen bonds because it encourages greater
self-disclosure.
Discussion is open and free – although this doesn’t prevent argu-
ments, conflict and misunderstanding as part of the routine ‘rough and
tumble’ of a close relationship. Openness, mutual freedom and self-
development lead to feelings of sincerity and trust. As Reibstein (1997)
has noted, such feelings are associated with the relationship as a ‘pro-
tective alliance’, which makes partners feel ‘grateful for, and pleasure in,
one another’. Although closeness, care and support are at the forefront
of partner’s concerns, some deception (as in ‘white lies’), mistrust and
insincerity are inevitable. These are best understood as instances of ‘soft
28 Intimacy and Power

manipulation’, which plays an important part in mutual benign control

and is nowhere near as destructive as ‘pure’ manipulation.
Soft manipulation involves guiding someone in the direction you
want them to go because it is in their, and your, best interests. Among
other things, it involves gently persuading them to fall in with an enter-
prise not of their own making, but which they come to see as desirable.
An example of this would be getting a partner to change an aspect of
their behaviour – say an annoying habit or their ‘obstinate’ views. This
may involve major or minor matters – ranging from bad dress sense,
whether or not to have children, to quit smoking or drinking, to relax
‘house-rules’ as children get older, or even to change a sexual preference.
The change is accomplished without threats or guilt trips and with-
out trampling on the other’s interests or desires. He or she is brought
‘on-side’ by persuasion, cajoling, teasing or bargaining.
Crucially in dynamic intimacy, open discussion permits a free
exchange of ideas and feelings about intensely personal matters. Because
of mutual trust, partners are willing to open-up without fear of recrim-
ination and this ‘freedom’ continually revitalises the bond. Sponta-
neous open discussion like this is the polar opposite of one or both
partners ‘insisting’ that the other ‘tells them everything’ and where
‘conversation’ bears a striking resemblance to interrogation.

Episodic intimacy

‘Dynamic intimacy’ is mostly close and harmonious – occasionally inter-

rupted by arguments and disagreements. In contrast, ‘episodic intimacy’
is more disrupted and less intense. Evidence of this type of intimacy
is amply illustrated in the studies of Reibstein, Miller and Marshall. It
might seem like ‘second rate’ intimacy but this depends on partner’s
feelings. If both are happy with this state of affairs, then there is no
problem. It might also be acceptable if both partners (couples or friends)
are not exactly happy, but are prepared to tolerate the situation – per-
haps because they don’t expect anything more, or because it suits their
current needs. In either case, ‘episodic intimacy’ is intimacy that has
deteriorated over time.
This type usually emerges later on in a relationship if partners have
partly withdrawn their energies but retain some commitment to the
relationship. This is often recognisable in couples for whom, and for
whatever reason, the full bloom of love has not survived beyond the
early period of intense and focused passion. Instead, the relationship has
evolved, largely unconsciously, into a set of compromises and routines.
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 29

The partners are living virtually separately, but still want to keep the
relationship going as a basic anchor for their lives.
From time to time, partners are caring, supportive and loving. They
are generally courteous and occasionally flatter one another, offering
gifts, sex, companionship and so on. Of course, these may also be used
‘manipulatively’ as ploys to keep the relationship ‘ticking over’, and to
preserve its outward appearance. In this sense intimacy is used selec-
tively to ‘manage’ problems that may threaten the relationship. This
happens, for instance, when couples offer sex as a substitute for conver-
sation or emotional disclosure. If sex is off the agenda, gifts may serve
to offset the lack of emotional connection. Selective intimacy like this
may be relatively ‘silent’ so as to avoid more revealing disclosures that
may occur inadvertently through talk.
Generally in episodic intimacy, disclosure is less authentic. Emotional
commitment has declined, and partners are less open with each other.
This creates a psychological and emotional space that allows them
to ‘engage at a distance’ without appearing too insincere, which is
important because they still need to trust one another to some extent.
Discussion is much less free but not because one partner wants to
dominate proceedings or block information. Rather, it is because they
both selectively withhold their feelings. Such a state of affairs can
lead to estrangement between couples and gives rise to comments like
that from one of Reibstein’s female interviewees when she says of her
husband:

he acts as if I don’t exist. When I walk into a room and all I want
to do is have a chat, tell him about how my day has gone, what the
children are up to, all that kind of stuff, he sits and reads the paper
as if I’m not even there! He doesn’t love me. If he loved me he would
want to listen to me, talk to me about himself. He would want to
spend time with me.
(Reibstein 1997: 13)

Such a lack of rapport is seriously damaging, of course, but doesn’t com-

pletely destroy the sincerity and trust that cradle relationships like this.
In fact, if partners want to keep the benefits of a protective alliance – at
least some trust and sincerity are necessary. Thus, instead of disappearing
completely, trust and sincerity become hollowed out. The result is that
the partners themselves become less and less the main focus of the rela-
tionship. Although some trust remains they no longer see one another
as its main focus. Trust is increasingly invested in others outside the pair
30 Intimacy and Power

bond. The once focal partner is now only one of a number of others with
whom ‘trust commitments’ are made.
In this respect emotional affairs or emotional infidelity – the sharing
of intimate experiences with, say, work friends, rather than partners –
which has been made easier through texts, e-mails and the Internet –
take on an increasing importance. (It may, in effect, be the half-way
stage to full-on sexual infidelity.) Along with such changes, the sincerity
that once cocooned the relationship undergoes a shift of emphasis. Part-
ners deal with one another less ‘authentically’. Their intimacy is more
‘performed’ and manipulative because they no longer see one another
as the only ‘source’ of emotional satisfaction.
Marshall’s (2006) findings indicate the existence of many couples like
this who remain together in spite of a lack of passion in their relation-
ships and their dissatisfaction with the companionate nature of their
everyday life. This suggests a distinction between ‘true’ companionate
relationships in which both partners are happy to settle for this state of
affairs (noted by Giddens 1992: 155), and ‘pseudo’ companionate bonds
that have become so by default because the partners have drifted apart
emotionally. For Marshall these relationships exemplify the theme of
partners ‘loving’ each other, but not being ‘in love’.
Although this kind of intimacy mainly occurs in the ‘second phase’
of a relationship, on occasion, partners may choose it from the start.
Sometimes friends or family members, even couples, want a less intense
relationship because they feel happier in less ‘demanding’ and focused
relationships. Episodic intimacy allows more space and independence
and releases them from the ‘tyranny of responsibilities’ that comes with
the more full-on styles. Of course, a relationship that starts out like this
will only continue to work while both partners feel the same about it.
If one person decides that she or he wants better intimacy they may,
in fact, decide to end the relationship. But there are definite benefits
with the episodic style that shouldn’t be underestimated. Restrained
intimacy of this kind is necessary if partners are uncomfortable with full-
on closeness, but – for whatever reason – want to keep the relationship
going.

Semi-detached intimacy

This type is yet another step away from dynamic intimacy, and again,
usually occurs in the later phases of a relationship. Intimacy may
become semi-detached if one or both partners privately desire greater
closeness, but also realise it isn’t currently possible. Full intimacy may
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 31

be kept at arm’s length for any number of reasons – perhaps because

of bottled-up anger, or frustration at having always to make the first
move. Whatever the reason, disappointment at the way things have
turned out will give rise to (mainly) unspoken resentments. If only one
of the partners feels this way, then he or she will become emotionally
semi-detached. Their partner may not even notice or turn a blind eye,
although both settle for a second-rate intimacy.
Sometimes both partners withdraw emotionally because of the hurt
caused by unresolved issues and conflicts. Semi-detached intimacy
allows a ‘convenient’ co-existence in which the partners simply carry
on together either out of sheer inertia or lack of options. If the desire for
greater closeness becomes more urgent, it may cause conflict, and ten-
sion. Partners might then seek satisfaction through emotional or sexual
affairs while keeping the relationship going in name only. The kind of
situation to which this may give rise is illustrated in a letter written by
a married woman and published anonymously in the Times newspaper.
She tells of the terrible consequences of an affair with a man she felt was
the love of her life and says that it ‘exposed the sham that is my mar-
riage’. However, she explains that the affair did not last and she and her
lover parted painfully because they ‘lacked the courage to upset so many
other lives’. After the affair her marriage was never the same again. Her
emotional energy is constantly diverted away from her marriage and sex
had become an act of ‘mechanics’ rather than ‘affirmation’. She says ‘we
now keep each other at a respectful distance. . . . we veer away from any-
thing that would mean engaging at a deeper level and live in a vacuum
of emotional sterility’ (Times 2007).
In general, with semi-detached intimacy disclosure is rare, and some-
times entirely absent. The partners largely ‘act-out’ or ‘perform’ inti-
macy, although not always in a wholly deliberate or false way. Often,
they will ‘go through the motions’, half-believing that their ‘original’
feelings may reappear and be revitalised. Mostly, however, their disap-
pointments are confirmed. Occasionally, fleeting moments of intimacy
may occur by chance when partners stumble across common ground,
or share some satisfying experience. This creates a brief spark of close-
ness, a reminder of what has been, what might have been, and what
could be, if only the barriers could be removed. Often, though, such
occasions are met with embarrassment and unease. The chance of a
revival of feelings is lost and the partners return to their habits of non-
disclosure.
With semi-detached intimacy the emotional drift between partners
is almost permanent and very obvious to all. The dissatisfaction bred
32 Intimacy and Power

by this leads to a search for fulfilment beyond the confines of the

relationship. Of course, emotional and sexual infidelity only widens
the gulf between the partners because alliances outside the relation-
ship shatter any remaining pretence of a protective alliance. Since
partners’ attention is focused outside the bond, semi-detached inti-
macy frequently involves manipulation, deception, insincerity and
mistrust.

Pretence intimacy

In relationships like this intimacy has deteriorated into sheer pretence.

The research on which Miller bases his study of ‘intimate terrorism’ is
replete with examples of couples that fit this type of ‘intimacy’. In a
sense these couples are preoccupied with ‘putting on a show’ – and this
may be harmless enough if neither partner really cares. However, if there
is underlying resentment, say, about being trapped in a loveless marriage
(or a family betrayal), pretence intimacy may mask real anger, jealousy
and bitterness. As such, this type prevents real but unexpressed feelings
breaking through.
More often than not, for couples, pretence intimacy is the natural end
point for a relationship in trouble and on the decline – perhaps already
having passed through episodic and semi-detached intimacy on the way.
The partners are fully detached from each other psychologically, but
for various reasons (the sake of the children, fear of loneliness, loss of
financial or social status) they remain together in an emotional waste-
land. Genuine intimacy is not on the agenda so that mutual pretence
allows personal engagement ‘without tears’. But the surface display is
underpinned by anger, tensions and suppressed conflict. Often there
is a silent war of attrition with each partner trying to wear the other
down, or get one up. Putting one another down in company is typical,
although one partner may be more vicious and determined to outdo
the other. At this point pretence may slide into manipulation. In many
respects this type is reflected in examples of couples, from Miller’s (1995)
research, engaged in the ‘two person civil war’ that he calls ‘intimate
terrorism’.

Manipulated intimacy

Here, mutual benign control gives way to ‘serious’ manipulation where

one person (for whatever reason) wants to control the other, and again,
Miller’s research offers plenty of examples of this type. Predominantly,
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 33

communication flows in one particular direction – from the controller

to the controlled. The controller’s wishes and interests come first and
the whole package is sealed with insincerity and double-dealing, but
stops short of physical coercion. (Although, of course, psychological
manipulation might function as a way station for a physically abu-
sive relationship; see Horley 2000.) Apparent closeness is massaged and
‘managed’ by the controller who, over time, convinces the partner that
he or she knows best. One way of achieving this is by the subtle use
of benign control. Under the disguise of ‘care’ and ‘support’, the con-
troller’s needs and desires are serviced at the expense of his or her
partner. For this to work properly the controlling partner must know
the other’s inner thoughts and feelings very thoroughly in order to use
them as tools of manipulation.
Thus the victim becomes convinced that the manipulator knows him
or her better than they know themselves, and what is best for them
both. But the controller simply leads the target by the nose saying
things like ‘you know how sensitive you are, you better leave this to
me’, or, ‘I’m doing this for your benefit you know’, ‘It’s you I’m con-
cerned about’, ‘I didn’t want to burden you with the responsibility
of making that decision’, ‘You’re happiest when I take care of you’.
Although these are manipulative and deceitful, they aren’t seriously
malicious.
However, more bullying tactics also produce results. Thus, sulking,
criticism, insults and put-downs based on intimate knowledge of a part-
ner’s weaknesses and insecurities may ensure his or her compliance –
although it may be reluctantly given. Research on emotional blackmail
(Forward and Frazier 1998) suggests that it is more subtle than bullying,
but still depends on direct or indirect threats. It gains its force by linking
personal insecurities and secrets with the threatened withdrawal of love,
or abandonment. The blackmailer says things like ‘After all I’ve done for
you, you treat me like this’, ‘Why do you always hurt me’, ‘Don’t bother
to visit, I don’t really deserve it’, ‘If you do this for me it will prove
you love me and in return I’ll love you forever’. Emotional blackmail-
ers are fearful and insecure, and use emotional manipulation to make
themselves feel powerful.
While the victim is encouraged to disclose her or his vulnerabilities,
the manipulator is careful to conceal personally sensitive information,
to ensure that his or her own power position isn’t threatened. Clearly,
there is no ‘free’ discussion of feelings or opinions, and the cards are
continually stacked against the weaker partner. Manipulated intimacy of
this kind is found in many relationships (couples, families and friends)
34 Intimacy and Power

often alongside other styles. For example, it is common for milder forms
of emotional blackmail and emotional bullying to occur with dynamic,
episodic and semi-detached intimacy.

Oppressive intimacy

Sometimes referred to as ‘co-dependence’, some of the characteristics

of oppressive intimacy are fairly well documented (Peele and Brodsky
1974, Person 1990, Giddens 1992). Partners in oppressive intimacy are
fairly equally matched and manipulate each other. But both are insecure
and over-reliant on the other to boost their confidence and self-esteem.
They only feel secure when they are together and are therefore anxious
about allowing one another to have ‘outside’ relationships with friends,
or even family. Thus the individuality and independence of both part-
ners is sacrificed in favour of their bond. And, although it may provide
a defence against loneliness and anxiety, the relationship is excessively
close, suffocating and oppressive.
Partners’ reliance on one another is addictive (Peele and Brodsky
1974). They rarely spend time outside one another’s company, so avoid-
ing the threat that others may pose. Of course, this unduly limits their
freedom and personal development and is quite the opposite of ‘healthy
love’ in Fromm’s (1971) terms. To make sure there are no betrayals,
partners closely monitor each other’s behaviour at all times with the
consequence that disclosure is forced, rather than freely given. Partners
are ‘required’ to report on the minutiae of their daily lives and thus
there is a ‘confessional’ feel to disclosure instead of a genuine sharing of
feelings. The suffocating and oppressive atmosphere creates fragile and
potentially volatile relationships. If one partner seeks to escape from
the claustrophobia, it will upset the control balance and may lead to a
struggle for power. The now weaker partner may fight to gain control
and boost his or her self-esteem.
Another variant arises when a needy partner becomes excessively
dependent. The stronger partner may have no wish to dominate the
relationship but he or she might find this over-dependence tiresome
and oppressive. If anything, the weaker partner may turn out to be
the manipulative one, smothering the other with a clingy intense
love, constantly off-loading emotionally, but giving little or nothing in
return. Alternatively, the stronger one may try to reduce the pressure
by being emotionally ‘unavailable’, or by simply leaving. Of course, if
the stronger one comes to relish this childlike dependence, then the
relationship shades into manipulation.
 The Varieties of Couple Intimacy 35

The dynamics of intimacy

Mutual attention to partner’s needs for self-esteem, security, confidence,

self-value and so on is the heart and soul of good quality intimacy.
Each entices the other into desiring and seeking more intimacy by
respecting mutual rights, needs, interests and wishes. They relate to
each other in the spirit of ‘I’ll give to you, if you’ll give to me’. Not
only must they recognise one another’s needs and best interests, they
must also be on the same emotional wavelength and be able to identify
and respond to feelings appropriately (Goleman 1996). Good commu-
nication is essential because ‘getting on’ with someone also involves
understanding meta-messages, gestures and body language. Reading
other people psychologically is fundamental to a good relationship.
Of course, such relationships are not trouble free, nor are the partners
totally selfless. Some self-interest – like self-protection – is necessary for
mental health, because it helps preserve or boost confidence and self-
esteem. But, too much self-interest will inevitably turn relationships
sour. ‘Soft manipulation’ strikes the right balance and is an important
means by which partners get what they want from each other. However,
mutual benign control will evaporate completely if one person begins
to rely on ‘harder’ manipulation.
If the quality of intimacy is poor, partners again focus on each other’s
identity, needs and feelings, but in a negative and self-interested way.
Instead of creating or boosting emotional closeness partners are more
concerned with gaining the other’s compliance. The game is played
according to the maxim ‘unless you give to me, I won’t give to you’.
To achieve this, players may simulate empathy, sympathy and emo-
tional attunement, to make it easier to manipulate and deceive. Thus,
what may seem to be ‘positive’ emotions are, in fact, masks for duplicity,
competitiveness and selfishness. Of course, in themselves, manipulation
and deception also require subtle communication skills like being able
to read other’s feelings and intentions. But here, the very same skills
that are essential for genuine intimacy are used to create an illusion of
sincerity.
Genuine intimacy involves some soft manipulation and ‘moderate’
self-interest, but when hard manipulation and excessive self-interest
come to the fore, real intimacy erodes. One or both partners spend most
of their time trying to outwit, or out-manoeuvre the other in a game of
win or lose. They could be said to resemble ‘control dramas’ (Redfield
and Adrienne 1995) in which the partners ‘steal’ one another’s energy
in order to ward off fear, pain and abandonment.
3
Psycho-Emotional Needs

The types of intimacy outlined in the previous chapter result from the
combined efforts of the two individuals who make up any particular
couple. The interpersonal dynamics of their day-to-day dealings deter-
mines the quality of their intimacy and stamps a distinctive pattern
on it. Before they became a couple they were independently formed
individuals albeit strongly influenced by their social environments.
Accumulated social experiences before getting together shape each of
them as a particular kind of person – confident and assured, or shy
and diffident, needing constant reassurance or strongly independent.
As such they bring to the relationship certain personal qualities and
capacities that inevitably influence the sort of intimacy they achieve as
a couple. This chapter examines this aspect of individual development
and how it impacts on couple intimacy.
As individuals we look to our intimate relationships to provide us with
emotional satisfaction. But while personal relationships are often grat-
ifying and fulfilling, they can also create frustration, anxiety and even
desperation. Thus intimate relationships are bound up with the ques-
tion of what it is we want, desire and need from our social and personal
lives. How do our most personal relationships enable or prevent us from
being satisfied and happy? In this respect the notion of ‘psychobiogra-
phy’ indicates the way in which a person accumulates a unique profile
of psycho-emotional needs (desires, capacities, dispositions), formed out
of their social experiences over time – from early childhood to later
adult life. Thus individuals have ‘profiles’ suggesting variable levels of
need in relation to security, self-esteem, love, approval, self-worth and
self-respect and so on, and these influence the extent and quality of
the intimacy they achieve in partnerships. Understanding intimacy as
formed out of the combined influence of relatively independent social

36
 Psycho-Emotional Needs 37

domains – psychobiography being one of them – avoids the mistake

of determinism by any one set of social factors (as found in discursive,
structural or interactive determinism or general social constructionism).
Each person has her or his own unique profile of needs and desires
which impacts on their compatibility with partners and friends. If two
people are compatible then a mutually satisfying relationship will fol-
low, but if need profiles clash, then it will result in disappointment
or dissatisfaction. The matching or mismatching of partner’s intimacy
needs, desires and feelings can be observed in how well or badly a rela-
tionship is faring and also reflects the type of intimacy they share. For
example, if partners generally enjoy time together and look forward to
each other’s company despite the ups and downs that are a natural part
of life together, this would indicate ‘dynamic intimacy’. If they feel OK
but a tad bored with each other this might suggest ‘episodic intimacy’.
If they wish that things could be different, perhaps as they once were,
it may be that their intimacy is ‘semi-detached’. If they are constantly
bickering and trying to undermine each other in public as well as in
private, it may indicate pretence, manipulative or oppressive types of
intimacy.

Basic needs, basic feelings

Some authors have suggested that there are ‘basic’ or ‘core’ emotional
needs that must be satisfied to achieve well-being in mental life (Maslow
1999, Branden 1985). What is meant by ‘satisfied’ or ‘fulfilled’ needs
some clarification because we each have different requirements. What
is ‘good’ or ‘sufficient’ for one person may not be so for another. So
while it is possible to outline basic or core needs, it is not possible to
say with accuracy what any particular individual person wants or needs.
For example, while we all require our own ‘space’, or ‘independence’
and don’t want to be ‘suffocated’ or overwhelmed by others, we each
have different tolerances in this respect. Likewise, humans require some
involvement, companionship and friendship, but we all differ in terms
of how much of them we need. Further, how we balance needs for inde-
pendence and togetherness is a personal issue. While some need greater
independence, others need more involvement and it’s important to bear
this in mind in assessing whether partners’ needs match up with one
another. We must always be aware that there are general basic needs but
that individual requirements vary.
Are some core needs more important than others? The short answer
to this is no. Precisely because they are fundamental, all core needs tend
38 Intimacy and Power

to clamour for attention at the same time. Of course, there may be times
when particular attention has to be paid to a specific need. For example,
if a person is going through a trying time, he or she might feel the need
for more loving gestures – say for kisses and hugs from their partner. But
generally, no one emotional need has more importance than any other.
Each core need feeds into and reinforces the others.
It is possible to talk about the psychological need for security, or the
need for self-confidence, or the need to feel valued, as if they were inde-
pendent of each other. Up to a point it’s useful to identify and isolate
feelings in this way in order to clearly target particular problems or
issues. But in the end, mental health and well-being depends on how
well the system of core needs fits and works together. Feeling under-
valued by a partner or a friend may be a specific problem that needs
to be resolved by getting them to be more appreciative and supportive.
But being undervalued also adversely affects other feelings – of being
loved, of having self-worth, self-respect and so on. As a whole the sys-
tem of core needs is finely balanced with each need interdependent with
the others.

Security and the self

Feeling secure and having good self-esteem are essential for mental
health and happiness. They form a basic anchor for other personal
attributes and feelings. In everyday life we say things like ‘I’m feeling
a bit insecure at the moment’ or that someone is ‘insecure’ about their
looks. These refer to uncomfortable feelings true enough, but not to
life threatening or socially disabling conditions. We often apply such
descriptions to people who otherwise feel fairly secure about themselves.
But insecurity can be more seriously disabling, interfering with the abil-
ity to deal with life and to feel happy. This has been referred to as
‘ontological insecurity’ (Laing 1969, Giddens 1991, Layder 1997), which
involves a cluster of related feelings about personal identity.
The first of these is the feeling of being ‘unreal’ or phoney in which a
person may feel that they are acting a part rather than presenting his or
her ‘real’ self. This may be because they are unhappy with their real self
and ‘hiding’ it by taking on a persona that represents the kind of person
she or he wishes to be. Unfortunately, this involves the mental strain of
trying to conceal bits of the real self that ‘escape’ when the individual’s
guard is down. Along with this sense of falseness an individual might
feel unworthy of any of the good things that have happened (or might
 Psycho-Emotional Needs 39

happen) to them. In comparison to others he or she feels undeserving,

insignificant and unimportant.
Personal identity can be negatively impacted by such feelings. For
example, insecurity is connected with uncertainty and anxiety, threat-
ening a person’s sense of solidity and independence. Serious insecurity
typically leads to chronic anxiety, to feelings of meaningless and empti-
ness and/or that there is no point to life. On the other hand, security
is linked with feeling authentic, sincere and genuine, worthy of love,
care and attention from others. Security leads to a sense of importance
and significance. Thus a person who feels secure also feels respected
by others, that his or her opinions are listened to and that others are
attracted to them. There is a certainty and clarity about such a person’s
self-identity which helps create a balance between her or his indepen-
dence as an individual and the ability to maintain good relationships
with others.
But even mild insecurity is bound to affect relationships. Everyone
needs to receive overtures and responses that support their sense of secu-
rity. We must be reassured regularly that we are good, worthy, attractive,
useful and valued. If such reassurances and caring responses are absent
in an intimate relationship (and it is surprising how often this is so,
for one or both partners), then problems will appear in the fabric of
the relationship. Resentments and hostilities may be actively expressed.
Often, however, they remain unspoken, and in the background, while
nevertheless, exerting an unhealthy influence over a relationship.
In some cases a person’s insecurities might not be apparent at the start
of a relationship and only surface later on. Finding out that a partner (or
even a friend) is not the kind of person they first appear to be may create
instability in a relationship. If such a person is extremely insecure, they
will be difficult to live with because of unpredictable moods or argu-
ments perhaps stemming from excessive possessiveness or jealousy. In
serious cases such a person may attempt to restrict his or her partner’s
freedom in a manipulative and domineering fashion. This often hap-
pens in ‘manipulative’ or ‘oppressive’ intimacy and it hardly needs to
be said that such attempts to be ‘in charge’ undermine mutual benign
control. They almost guarantee the depreciation of trust and intimacy
and the withdrawal or holding back of love.

Security and self-esteem

Positive self-esteem is also essential to mental health and, as Branden

(1985) suggests, it is about feeling ‘competent to live and worthy of
40 Intimacy and Power

happiness’ or ‘appropriate to life and to its requirements and chal-

lenges’. In this sense self-esteem is an essential foundation for personal
happiness and, like security, it supports personal identity. However, the
strength of security and self-esteem may vary from time to time. For
example, a youngster may be rather insecure, lacking in self-esteem and
appearing shy and awkward, but may become more self-assured and
confident as she or he matures. Likewise, secure adults with good self-
esteem may be suddenly overwhelmed by the loss of a loved one, or by
being made redundant. The resilience of security and self-esteem may
vary according to life circumstances.
But insecurity and self-doubt can also vary in strength and intensity
from moment to moment (Layder 1997). Everyday life itself can pose
many threats to security and self-esteem. At work or at home a person’s
judgement may be challenged by a colleague or a partner and eat away at
her or his confidence and sense of competence. They may feel insulted,
put-down, treated inappropriately or badly. An individual may fail in
their efforts to get a job, pass an exam or even win an argument. The
dents in security and self-esteem caused by such incidents can give rise
to embarrassment, humiliation, hurt, anxiety, feelings of worthlessness
and so on. Often such feelings are fleeting, with self-esteem and compo-
sure being restored almost immediately. However, more serious doubts
and uncertainties may set in. In some cases it may be the last straw –
the latest in a long line of such incidents – that finally tips a person
into a chronic state of insecurity and anxiety. Most importantly, a drop
in security or self-esteem will also undermine personal competence and
effectiveness. More generally, a person might feel powerless and unable
to control his or her own life (Gilbert 1992).
Such a scenario could have several consequences for a close relation-
ship. First, someone who is insecure might become over-sensitive and
vulnerable to all manner of real or imagined slights or put-downs from
their partner, who then doesn’t know how best to respond. Unless the
situation is properly discussed and dealt with, it may lead to a spiral of
misunderstanding, which just gets worse and worse (Gilbert 1992, Scheff
1990). Second, an insecure person might adopt a ‘victim’ mentality to
gain sympathy from their partner. But unless a partner is accepting of
and agreeable to this, he or she may feel unfairly ‘manipulated’ and the
relationship may be damaged.
In these examples the root of the problem is personal ineffective-
ness. The more secure partner must try to rebuild the insecure one’s
confidence and their ability to use benign influence and control. It
is possible, however, that an insecure person may resort to emotional
 Psycho-Emotional Needs 41

blackmail or even physical abuse to compensate for their ineffective-

ness. In such cases repairing the relationship would require lengthy and
expert, third-party intervention.

Love: The perennial need and desire

There can surely be no dispute about the importance of love for mental
well-being but it is important to distinguish between different kinds of
love. Perhaps parental love (or that of principal caretaker) is the most
crucial kind because the quality of this bond will affect a child’s abil-
ity to form good loving bonds later in life (Reibstein 1997, Marshall
2006). Where the bond is good a child will, more than likely, be happy
and form good loving relationships. Unhappy childhood experiences
will lead to a more depressed outlook and either a fear of intimacy
itself or an inability to acquire intimacy skills. Although love has sev-
eral forms including that between friends, neighbours, relatives, it is
often assumed that romantic, sexual love provides the most intimate
and intense expression of a loving relationship.
Although loving others and being loved by them are crucial, love
of self is just as important. Without it the capacity to love others is
restricted. If love of others is absent, it is difficult to experience love of
the self although loving acceptance of the self is not the same as narcis-
sism. It’s more about a caring attitude towards oneself, self-acceptance,
integrity and being self-protective when necessary. ‘Self-love’ in this
sense is essential for sustaining self-esteem. Self-hatred or loathing
inevitably leads to negativity about one’s abilities, competence and wor-
thiness and inevitably undermines security and self-esteem. If a loving
self-acceptance is absent, personal happiness and psychological well-
being will be elusive. Self-love is crucial because it is the basis for loving
others. Self-loathing inhibits positive attitudes towards others.
It would seem obvious that intimate relationships depend on the pres-
ence of ‘love’ between the partners, friends or relatives. It is less obvious
that love needs to be ‘worked at’ regularly for it to remain alive and
healthy. All too often people assume that love will take care of itself. But
taking love for granted often occurs when intimacy is on the wane – that
is, drifting from dynamic intimacy into the episodic or semi-detached
types. With the consequent narrowing of self-disclosure that accom-
panies such a drift, the partners never really ask themselves how they
feel towards each other, or discuss the quality of their intimacy. This
is not to say that their happiness is not real, or that the relationship
is a sham, although, of course, any of these possibilities may also be
42 Intimacy and Power

true. Nevertheless, in the absence of any genuine exploration of their

bond, many such people simply ‘make-do’ and fumble along with a
relationship that isn’t emotionally fulfilling. One partner may feel short-
changed in a rather vague manner, but not moved enough to investigate
any further. Alternatively, both partners may secretly feel deeply dissat-
isfied and harbour resentments, but never openly express them in their
day-to-day lives.
What is missing is a real understanding of what each of them wants
and needs emotionally from the relationship. One might need more
‘love’ than the other – perhaps because they felt deprived as a child.
One or both may secretly require more loving responses from their part-
ner – demonstrations of affection and care rather than having to simply
assume that they are loved. Is an unequal need for love balanced out
in other ways? For example, does one partner receive more reassurance
over matters of self-esteem, or personal appearance and self-confidence?
If there is an imbalance, how do partners feel about it? How do people
cope when they need more loving responses?
Another crucial issue concerns the quality of the love between part-
ners. If a relationship is to be successful, love must involve not only
mutual care and attention, but also respect for each other’s freedom,
independence and personal growth (Fromm 1971, Rogers 1998, Maslow
1999). However, sometimes this is thwarted by a lack of self-love or
self-esteem and is transformed into a constant need for support, atten-
tion and ego grooming – which is typical of ‘manipulative’ intimacy.
This raises the question of whether a person has dependency needs that
are disguised by the umbrella of love. As with ‘oppressive intimacy’,
the partners may be locked into mutual over-dependence. The question
then is, is it possible for them to recognise this and avoid its destructive
effects?

Approval and acceptance

As with love, the need for self-approval and approval by others are
closely linked. If you don’t accept who you are, it will be difficult to
accept others. Also, others may misunderstand this as hostility and hold
back. Constantly searching for approval in adulthood reflects a child-
hood spent seeking, but never finding, parental (or caretaker) approval.
Receiving just the right amount is crucial if a child is to move into
adulthood with a balanced need for approval. If the balance isn’t right,
he or she may become trapped in a constant search for approval, fear-
ing abandonment or the withdrawal of love and leaving them helpless
 Psycho-Emotional Needs 43

and desperate. For such a person love is always conditional – on the

approval of another. Romantic love is often founded on a mutual search
for approval that mirrors partners’ unfinished childhood journeys. As
long as giving and receiving approval within the partnership are broadly
equal, all will be well.
But such arrangements are sensitive and fragile at the best of times and
can easily be derailed by events, disagreements and misunderstandings.
Imbalances in giving and receiving approval can result from clashes
of personality or because of changing needs over time. A person who
begins to demand more and more approving responses runs the risk of
appearing unsure and ineffective. Over time this may become a burden
on the stronger partner. Excessive demands for approval may lead the
stronger one to try to carve out more space for himself or herself. Of
course, this may simply put increased pressure on the ‘needier’ partner
while simultaneously upping their need for approval. A vicious spiral of
depreciating intimacy may develop which is difficult to halt or reverse.
But it’s not just excessive approval seeking that may prove trouble-
some. Someone who routinely fails to seek the approval of her or his
partner can also create a problem. Not seeking approval for things that
affect both partners smacks of selfishness, an inflated sense of self-
importance, as well as a lack of empathy, care and compassion for
a partner. Clearly, someone who doesn’t seek their partner’s approval
over matters of mutual concern will create serious arguments and
disagreements. They may even seek to get their way by coercion or
intimidation.

Self-worth and self-respect

Feeling intrinsically worthy and that others value you as you value them
are strongly linked to security and self-esteem. A person can’t experience
happiness if she or he feels unworthy and undeserving. The likelihood
is that upbeat or happy thoughts and moods will be undermined by the
nagging doubt that they are deserved. A person may become so used to
this that he or she begins to cling to unhappiness because it feels com-
fortable and ‘secure’, providing them with settled expectations. In fact,
being unhappy may have all sorts of hidden pay-offs that an individual
may be reluctant to give up (Jeffers 1987). Gaining sympathy, attention,
help, support and understanding are major pay-offs. Being unhappy can
also let a person off the hook of self-responsibility in general, so that she
or he is absolved from making decisions about earning a living or caring
for others. It provides a readymade excuse for not taking the initiative in
44 Intimacy and Power

relationship matters, such as giving love and care to a partner, or taking

responsibility for emotional issues and making an effort to talk through
or resolve such problems.
Intimate relationships strongly influence self-worth and self-respect.
As with many emotional issues, lack of self-worth and self-respect may
influence relationships in ways that may not be obvious. For example,
a partner may privately feel ‘put upon’ in that they have to shoulder
more responsibility for the relationship than seems fair or appropri-
ate. In short, they have to deal with an unhealthy level of dependency
from their partner who has largely ‘washed their hands’ of responsibility.
The problem can only be resolved if the ‘offending’ partner voluntarily
acknowledges that he or she has, indeed, become too ‘dependent’ and
that this stems from a lack of self-worth and self-respect. In this respect
the partner must also realise that his or her anxiety can only be reduced
by taking on more responsibility.

Independence versus involvement

Tension between the need to be alone and the need to be together in

relation to a partner can be a perennial source of problems and dissatis-
faction within intimate relationships. This is further complicated by the
fact that, typically, these needs vary. Some people have a greater general
need for independence, while others thrive on the closeness of togeth-
erness. Also in long-term relationships individual’s needs may vary at
different times. But the needs for independence and togetherness are
two sides of the same coin. It is only possible to have a clear view of
your own independence by being alone or separate from others and
then comparing it with involvement and togetherness.
Moreover, we are social creatures. We depend on others for a vast
array of material and psychic comforts including intimate, caring bonds
with those special to us. Independence and togetherness are insepara-
ble and fundamental aspects of human existence and personal identity
(Layder 1997). It is, therefore, natural for all human beings to need and
value them both. But while the tension between them can be positive,
it can also raise problems when one partner wants more togetherness
while the other prefers independent pursuits. This pattern isn’t nec-
essarily because of gender differences (as Tannen 1992, 2002 argues).
Upbringing and previous experiences traced in and through their psy-
chobiographies mean that many men value togetherness, while many
women crave time for themselves.
 Psycho-Emotional Needs 45

Getting the right balance between being together and doing things
alone can be difficult, particularly in long-standing relationships. An
extreme tendency for partners to favour one side or the other can be
linked to engulfment or abandonment anxieties as noted by Miller
(1995). Less extreme shifts in such tendencies may occur over time. For
instance, one person might increasingly want to do things on his or her
own in response to a partner’s demand for more attention, company
or reassurance, which they find oppressive and stultifying. Regaining a
balance in relationships requires both partners’ willingness to acknowl-
edge that their behaviours have changed and to talk things through.
But because such problems raise sensitive emotional issues, partners are
often unwilling to confront them. Instead, they simply become upset
or resentful about a partner’s behaviour without really knowing why. In
this respect they wage a silent war of attrition.
If someone becomes more independent, say going out alone, or pur-
suing educational studies, or having separate holidays, then a partner
might take this as a form of rejection that subsequently impacts on their
self-esteem and security, making them even more vulnerable. Handling
this without further damage to one another’s pride requires the utmost
delicacy, trust and sensitivity – all of which might already be in short
supply! Certainly, sensitivities may be such that any attempt to confront
such issues (even carefully and lovingly) may cause further emotional
upset.
Often – although by no means inevitably – a long-standing bond
allows greater mutual freedom. For new lovers, being apart, even for
a short period of time, can be painful, almost unbearable, whereas for
those who have been together for many years, temporary separation
may be more easily kept ‘in perspective’. Of course, the opposite might
also be true. Sometimes long-term partners grow so accustomed to con-
stant companionship that the very thought of being separated causes
great stress and anxiety. However, familiarity all too frequently breeds
boredom and irritation so that partners increasingly feel the need for
time apart in order to keep the relationship going at all. In this sce-
nario both partners silently witness the gradual dissolution of common
interests, involvements and activities while at the same time relishing
the greater personal space that this allows. At the same time both may
remain ‘committed’ to the relationship – and this is typical of episodic
and semi-detached intimacy. This may be workable and satisfactory for
both partners although involving a considerable sacrifice of mutual care
and involvement.
46 Intimacy and Power

Unwanted drift

If drifting (as in drifting apart) simply allows partners greater space and
independence then it may be ‘satisfactory’ for both. But many rela-
tionships enter into irreversible decline under the (indifferent) noses of
the partners. Both may regard it as the end-game in a long and silent
(perhaps even bitter) war of attrition. In this sense it represents a kind
of ‘drifting apart’ that developed it own momentum and has come to
an inevitable conclusion (typical of the semi-detached, pretence and
manipulative intimacy). Tragically, there are also cases in which ‘drift-
ing’ is unwanted but the partners seem helpless to halt it. This can end
up with both partners disillusioned and largely estranged from each
other, while remaining puzzled as to why this has happened and why
they didn’t or couldn’t do anything about it. This often occurs because
unspoken feelings are not easy to face up to, even if partners are aware of
them in the first place. Much of the time ‘emotion work’ goes on below
the level of conscious awareness.
A good balance between independence and togetherness is clearly
important to a thriving relationship – although it is often difficult to
achieve. An inability to be alone is as unhealthy as an excessive need
for togetherness. Becoming too dependent suggests insecurity, anxiety
and lack of self-confidence. In ‘oppressive’ intimacy partners drag each
other down because they don’t realise the destructive effects of their co-
dependence. In ‘manipulative’ intimacy where there is one ‘dependent’
partner, responsibility for the relationship largely falls into the hands of
the one who is ‘depended on’. He or she must decide either to live with
the imbalance or to try to ‘make’ the dependent partner aware of the
problem and convince him or her to do something about it.
It is necessary for partners (or friends) to be strong and confident
in order to achieve the right balance of respect for one another’s
boundaries. A healthily independent person is less likely to suffocate
or overwhelm a partner with attention and affection or with fears and
insecurities. Giving a partner the space and freedom to be whom, or
what they want to be, encourages them to do the same in return.

Feeling special and understood

Most people want to ‘fit in’ with others. They don’t want to ‘stick out
like sore thumbs’, as the colloquial phrase has it. This is an important
way of integrating with others on the basis of likeness. In effect, it is
saying, ‘I’m just like you, and you are just like me, and that is what gives
 Psycho-Emotional Needs 47

us common ground and shared interests’. In a similar fashion many

couples try to ensure that they blend together and present a ‘united
front’ to the outside world. But although ‘fitting’ or ‘blending in’ with
others is essential there is also a contrary need to stand out from the
crowd, to feel different and a bit special.
This can present a problem for couples when they have established
certain habits and routines of ‘relating’ to each other. Eventually, they
become ‘habituated’ to each other (Duncombe and Marsden 1995) and,
as a result, less thoughtful and caring. The stage of ‘getting to know’
each other has long since passed and thus much of the ‘mystery’ of the
other has diminished, or at least no longer remains such a mystery. As
a consequence, the partners don’t look at each other with the freshness
and openness that was there at the beginning of their relationship. In
short, there is a tendency for one or both partners to ‘take the other for
granted’. They feel they know the other through and through and can
predict their attitudes, opinions and reactions. But this habituated way
of looking at a partner also ‘downgrades’ them. He or she is regarded
as completely ‘known’ and thus no longer as a unique and special indi-
vidual. In such a case an individual might feel that they don’t have to
make the same effort to understand their partner as they did originally.
Day-to-day they begin to assume they don’t have to ask their partner
about what pleases them or what they think or feel about certain issues.
These things are just ‘known’ in advance!
One effect of being treated in this way is to begin to feel invisible,
insignificant and decidedly unspecial. ‘You just take me for granted’,
‘You never ask me how I’m feeling’, ‘You don’t seem to care like you
used to do’, ‘You don’t spend enough time with me’ are typical refrains
from those who feel that their partner is not giving them the attention
that their ‘specialness’ deserves! By overlooking the qualities that once
formed the original basis of attraction the ‘magic’ disappears from the
relationship and with it so does most of the excitement and pleasure of
‘discovering’ new facets of one another.
For a number of reasons it is very difficult to counteract such tenden-
cies as they happen. First, some ‘habituation’ is inevitable in all intimate
relationships, but especially if two people are living together and shar-
ing their lives in detail. There is a sort of necessary predictability about
the routines that partners get into and which serve to make the prac-
tical aspects of the relationships workable. It is difficult to preserve the
practical advantages that flow from this predictability while also preserv-
ing a freshness, openness and curiosity between partners. Beyond this is
the indisputable fact that long-term partners inevitably get to know one
48 Intimacy and Power

another very well – perhaps too well! And yet this intimate knowledge
may be the very reason why the partners like and trust each other so
much in the first place. In other words, it is their mutual familiarity that
makes them comfortingly attractive.
But there are hidden penalties associated with this. Chiefly, if a rela-
tionship is based on the comforts gained from familiarity and reliability,
then both partners must also accept the lower grade of intimacy that
goes with them. This is because an individual’s unique qualities are
naturally dissolved into a taken-for-granted view of each other. The
warmth and security that comes from being able to depend on each
other becomes more important than individual ‘special’ qualities. So
the hidden penalty is that instead of being loved and regarded as a
unique person – whose essence is never thoroughly ‘known’ – part-
ners are loved precisely because they are reliable and dependable – a
comfortable certainty in an uncertain world.
Both partners may tacitly accept (even desire) this kind of security and
dependability. However, one (or, bizarrely, even both) may also secretly
desire to be loved more deeply and profoundly, and resent the fact that
they aren’t. But the fact that the desire remains private and unspoken
may have a corrosive effect on trust and the sincerity of the partner’s
feelings – as in a move from ‘episodic’ to ‘semi-detached’ intimacy.
Ideally, of course, there should be a balance of dependability and spe-
cialness. Regarding someone as ‘a rock’ or knowing him or her ‘inside
out’ is fine up to a point. But it is of paramount importance that the
‘specialness’ of partners always plays a role in their dealings with, and
feelings for, each other. A partner’s individuality must never be forgotten
if intimacy is to remain fresh and exciting.

Personal growth: Self-actualisation

Personal growth or ‘self-actualisation’ (as Maslow, 1999, terms it) is

closely linked with successful relationships and ‘dynamic’ intimacy. In
such relationships respect and trust is high while the partners sup-
port one another’s personal growth. Self-actualisation in the context of
a close relationship entails allowing partners the freedom to develop
optimally and to fulfil their potential as human beings. This ensures
the well-being of the individual partners while simultaneously support-
ing the relationship as a whole. Ideally, mutual growth should lead to
greater harmony and integration – an overall strengthening of the bond.
However, personal growth frequently alters the balance of power and
 Psycho-Emotional Needs 49

control causing dissatisfaction with the relationship and pressure for

change.
Partners who want things to remain the same may be threatened by
the changes personal growth may bring. One person may feel that their
‘hold’ over their partner may be weakened. This often occurs when
a partner takes up educational studies later in life and which usually
involves meeting new friends and acquiring skills that increase per-
sonal power and confidence. An individual may react fearfully if they
are already insecure about themselves or their ‘hold’ on their partner.
The increased self-confidence and personal power of one partner might
spell the end for an already shaky relationship. On the other hand, if
a relationship is strong enough in the first place, it might be able to
readjust. But both partners must be willing and able to deal with the
problems posed by such changes.
A serious difficulty may arise if a newly ‘empowered’ partner is seen
as a threat to the benefits enjoyed by someone who was previously
in the stronger position. If the ‘empowered’ partner wants to change
things and the ‘threatened’ partner is chronically insecure, there may
be a battle for control in which the threatened and insecure partner
may resort to intimidation or even violence – which is often the case in
spousal abuse (Horley 2000). Any kind of personal growth forces part-
ners to readjust to new needs, demands and new forms of influence
over one another. However, there is no reason why a revamped relation-
ship cannot emerge from the shell of the old one. Relationships must
constantly renew themselves to avoid becoming stale with the partners
taking each other for granted. Habituation and being ‘taken for granted’
are, perhaps, the cruellest enemies of intimate relationships.

Intimacy and psycho-emotional needs

It is highly probable that a significant part of an individual’s array of

psycho-emotional needs is established in early childhood as a result
of their interactions with parents and primary caretakers. However,
an individual’s particular profile continually develops and changes
throughout adult life and is derived from their psychobiographical expe-
rience of various aspects of the social world and significant others.
A person’s need profile clusters around core emotions essential for effec-
tive participation in the social world such as security, self-esteem, love,
approval, acceptance, self-worth, self-respect, independence and togeth-
erness, growth and self-development and so on. Psycho-emotional
needs manifest themselves as personal qualities, characteristics and
50 Intimacy and Power

dispositions reflecting a particular individual’s fears, insecurities as well

as their social and psychological competencies, skills and abilities.
There is a clear relationship between an individual’s psycho-emotional
profile and intimacy since such needs, desires and predispositions are
either satisfied or thwarted through the vehicle of personal relation-
ships. An individual’s specific need profile largely determines what she
or he can contribute to, and take from, intimate relationships and so,
ultimately, the success or failure of couple intimacy depends in good
part on the compatibility of these profiles. The matching or mismatch-
ing of partners’ ‘need profiles’ influences the quality of intimacy and
the type of intimacy problems they will encounter at different points
in their relationship. On the one hand, understanding individual psy-
chobiographies in this manner links the discussion (in the previous
chapter) about the typology of couple intimacy and variations in the
quality and nature of self-disclosure. On the other hand, it connects
with the discussion (in the next chapter) of the interpersonal strategies
that couples use to (benignly) control and influence each other as they
negotiate their intimacy.
4
Intimacy and Interpersonal Control

By using various forms of power and control – via skills of persuasion

and influence – couples negotiate their sexual and emotional needs
and desires. These negotiations may, in fact, lead to mutually satisfy-
ing arrangements, but perhaps just as frequently they may result in
relationships fraught with tensions, insecurities and disappointments
(Craib 1994). Optimal intimacy – intimacy that is satisfying for both
partners – requires the liberal presence of what I call ‘mutual benign
control’. When this is, indeed, present, the needs, desires and rights
of each of the partners are judiciously catered for on a fair and equal
basis while, at the same time, naked self-interest and manipulation are
minimised. An over-reliance on manipulative strategies tends to corrode
and devalue intimacy as can be observed in emotional blackmail, or
psychological bullying (Forward and Frazier 1998).
Recognising the difference between benign and manipulative-
exploitative control in interpersonal behaviour is crucial to understand-
ing the role of power in intimacy. Sociologists (and others), who tend to
identify power (and control) solely with domination, and/or as a social
structural or group phenomenon, often overlook this important distinc-
tion (Jenkins 1994, Miller 1995, Lukes 2005). Mutual benign control is
central to intimacy because it is the mechanism that generates positive
emotional energy and feelings of self-efficacy. Individual feelings and
the emotional tone of couple relationships are closely associated with
the use, withholding or withdrawal of benign control. Thus the way in
which interpersonal control is negotiated by couples is crucial for the
success or failure of their intimacy.

51
52 Intimacy and Power

Intimacy and benign control

Intimate relationships are about satisfying our own and our partner’s
emotional needs. The best way to make this happen is to influence –
and thus exert some control over – other’s responses. ‘Control’ is not
simply about making someone do something against their wishes – it’s
about ‘influencing’ them in a more positive way. Thus, ‘control’ and
even ‘manipulation’ may be understood in softer, more compassion-
ate ways which include enticing others do what you want them to do
willingly, through influence, persuasion and charm. Good examples are
getting someone to ‘go out on a date’, or trying to impress them in a con-
versation. Convincing an elderly person of the need to lock up securely
at night is ‘controlling’ or ‘manipulative’ in so far as they do what we
think is ‘best’ for them, even though they may not realise it at the time.
Couples (and friends) routinely rely on (intimacy) control games and
relationships habits – that is, habitual ways of dealing with each other.
Influence is achieved by assuring others that we are right rather than by
brow-beating them into agreement or by forcing them into anything.
Nevertheless, we subtly manipulate and ‘benignly’ control them by
being sympathetic or caring rather than exploitative. In this sense a per-
son is free to ‘resist’ your overtures and persuasive powers and, indeed,
they may be finally ‘won over’ only by further persuasion or induce-
ment. This differs greatly from overcoming resistance or reluctance by
threats or punishment.
Mutual benign control continually makes and remakes intimacy, but
when it goes wrong, relationships founder and often break down. Suc-
cessful intimacy allows partners each to get what they want from each
other through their combined, ‘cooperative’ efforts. By contrast, in rela-
tionships where partners are unhappy, this is usually because they are
at odds with each other and dissatisfied with what are giving to, and
receiving from, their relationship. Genuine mutuality is thwarted and
there is no longer a balance of needs and support.

Men and women: The same but different

Games of influence and control apply equally to men and women.

Regardless of gender people obtain what they want by taking account of
other’s interests, needs and desires. However, some writers have stressed
that men and women differ in their approaches to life and relationships
and that this causes confusion and misunderstanding (Tannen 1992,
2002, Baron-Cohen 2004). Also, such writers suggest that because men
 Intimacy and Interpersonal Control 53

and women are interested in, and want to get different things out of life,
they have a hard time making relationships work. However, an exclusive
concentration on gender differences overlooks the many similar things
that men and women want and need from intimacy. These include a
sense of efficacy based on the ability to benignly control, influence and
attract others, to establish and maintain social bonds and so on. The
personal strategies and skills of men and women are aimed at producing
much the same outcome – influencing, persuading and exerting con-
trol over the feelings and responses of others. It may be that men and
women tend to use different control strategies in different kinds of social
circumstances but these strategies are not exclusive to one gender. We
are all in the business of attracting, influencing and controlling others
as part of a mutual exchange of wants and needs.
Take, for example, basic psychological needs. Unless a person has
enough self-esteem, self-confidence and security, he or she may end up
lonely, depressed, resentful and unhappy, regardless of their gender. Sim-
ilarly, if an individual has enough love and intimacy of the right kind
in their life, then they’ll feel OK about themselves, enjoy life to the full
and assume that nothing will get them down for long. In this respect
basic psychological needs like security and self-reliance are the same the
world over. Obviously, there are cultural, ethnic and gender differences
in people’s styles, behaviour and preferences. But differences in style
often mask the same basic needs for companionship, love, intimacy,
attention, approval, self-esteem, the power to attract, and to be effective
in the world.
These aspects of behaviour and psychology underline the similari-
ties between human beings rather than differences based on gender,
or culture or ethnicity. Unfortunately, many popular psychology books
encourage us to think that men and women want radically different
things from life and relationships. Some have even suggested that men
and women inhabit different worlds (Gray 1992, Moir and Moir 1999,
Pease and Pease 2002). This simply reinforces gender stereotypes by
overlooking our shared humanness and masking the uniqueness of
individuals. The assumption that the influence of gender is overrid-
ing implies that the rich variation in personality and individuality is
unimportant.
No one should be reduced to a gender stereotype. The very core
of individual uniqueness resides in taking responsibility for our own
actions – for ‘who’ we are, what we want and how we live our lives.
Many men cry, are good at expressing their emotions, display sensitiv-
ity and so on, while countless women do not ‘fit’ gender stereotypes.
54 Intimacy and Power

Everyone has a unique repertoire of interpersonal skills and behaviours

concerning how she or he deals, or fails to deal, with intimacy in gen-
eral. This uniqueness is overlooked if human beings are viewed simply
as representations of gender characteristics.

Being effective in relationships

Interpersonal control is common to all relationships: between those that

do and don’t endure, between men and women, or of the same gender,
between those with the same or different sexual habits and practices,
and so on. Any human bond is influenced by the power and control
that flows from it – even if it doesn’t appear that way. In this sense
personal power refers to the ability to be effective in life. Being effective
means getting situations or people to work in one’s favour, and respond
to one’s own needs, wishes and desires.
A person who is unable to do this would be simply overawed or fright-
ened most of the time. He or she wouldn’t be able to make decisions or
express a point of view. As a result, things would mostly be happen-
ing to them, rather than she or he being able to make things happen
for themselves. Such people would feel trapped by life’s situations like
a bad marriage, or a job they didn’t like and as a result they would feel
unhappy, helpless and vulnerable. To be effective a person must respond
to people and events in ways that allow them to have their own needs
and desires taken into account. In this sense individuals need to put
their personal power into action in order to be effective in social life.
We all have some personal power (sometimes referred to as ‘efficacy’;
Branden 1985) – it is what makes us effective human beings. This not
only entails physical power, it also refers to the way in which we entice
others to listen to us and take us into account by using social skills.
Because everyone has a unique psychobiography some individuals have
more personal power than others – although this is not fixed for all
time. More power can be acquired by learning new skills. Control is the
active side of personal power, the way a person puts it to use in her or
his life. It’s the practical side of power, how individuals actually make
things happen. In short, control is the means through which personal
effectiveness is put into practice.
Effectiveness is closely bound up with desires, feelings and emotions.
If someone thinks or behaves on the assumption that he or she can’t do
anything about a bad situation – being rejected by a lover, or wanting to
change jobs, or to get away from an abusive relationship – they will feel
depressed, unhappy, unloved and so on. Such feelings are the natural
 Intimacy and Interpersonal Control 55

result of not having control over one’s personal life and other people. If,
on the other hand, a person feels that they do have some control – that
she or he can break away from, or overcome, oppressive relationships –
then this will generate self-confidence and self-esteem and, in turn, will
give rise to a fair amount of fun and joy.
The sense of ‘effectiveness’ experienced through the exercise of con-
trol leads to satisfaction, elation and other positive feelings. In this sense
it reminds the individual that she or he ‘is able’ or ‘has the power’ to
have their needs and desires fulfilled through their relationships. Know-
ing this helps individuals develop and retain confidence in personal
qualities, abilities and skills. That is, it bolsters how they think of them-
selves, and thus the image they want to project to others (Goffman,
1971, calls this ‘impression management’). For instance, we may like
to think of ourselves as, say, interesting conversationalists, good neigh-
bours, helpful friends or caring lovers. Accordingly, we will try to convey
this impression to others so that they take it into account and treat us
appropriately.
Being able to rely on such personal qualities and attributes creates
the self-confidence essential for attracting others. Self-belief seems to
stimulate the need in others to keep seeking out our company or to try
to get closer to us. It also reinforces their willingness to provide us with
the things we need, such as love, attention, acceptance and respect. It
almost goes without saying that general self-esteem greatly depends on
the ability to be effective in social relationships.

Control: A positive energising force

Being effective in personal relationships and using benign control and

influence are absolutely necessary for creating and maintaining inti-
macy. It is therefore of the utmost importance not to confuse benign
control with malign (exploitative, manipulative) forms. They are utterly
different in style, morality and mode and it is essential to bear this in
mind. However, it is a very common mistake to think of control (of
any sort) as entirely negative and morally dubious – as if was exclu-
sively associated with competition, manipulation and the suppression
of creativity, intuition and spirituality.
As noted in Chapter 2, Miller (1995) makes this mistake in his
otherwise insightful study of couple intimacy. However, this misunder-
standing of power is widely held and deeply entrenched. For example,
James Redfield and Carol Adrienne (1995) perpetuate this kind of mis-
understanding when they suggest that human beings unconsciously
56 Intimacy and Power

compete with each other for energy in every encounter to ward off feel-
ings of fear, abandonment, pain and so on, which originally formed in
childhood. Our habitual way of gaining attention and stealing energy
is by enacting ‘control dramas’ through which we make up for a deficit
of attention, self-esteem and self-worth. These control dramas include
intimidating others, being hostile and fault finding, being distant and
aloof, or playing the victim. However, by seeking to manipulate or dom-
inate the other’s attention we become weak and insecure and cut off
from our intuition, creativity and spirituality. In contrast, by surrender-
ing the need to control, we become aligned with mystical and universal
energy (1995: 95, 99).
Miller’s ‘intimate terrorism’ and Redfield and Adrienne’s ‘control dra-
mas’ present an unjustifiably pessimistic and sometimes cynical view of
human nature that fails to recognise the crucial role of benign control
in everyday life. Of course, conflict, power struggles and control dramas
do exist, but it is highly misleading to imply that all of social life is like
this. It is certainly true that some relationships are based on emotional
blackmail, psychological manipulation and so on. There are also many
relationships based on other forms of malign power and control, and
it might be better if they were eradicated. But the point cannot be to
eliminate control in general. Certainly, benign influence is preferable to
control based on manipulation, competition and repression. But benign
control is also essential to personal effectiveness in social relationships,
as well as for good self-esteem, self-worth and self-confidence. With-
out it, it would be impossible for us to draw out appropriate emotional
responses from others.
Benign influence and control is a mutual exchange of psycho-
emotional energy, it is not ‘stealing’ or ‘competing’ for energy at
someone else’s expense. Although the exchange of energy involved may
not always be equal, it is its ‘to and fro’, give-and-take nature that makes
it distinctive. Rather than struggle, conflict and competition, it is best
understood as a process of bonding and rapport that allows everyone
to get something out of an encounter (Collins 2005). At times, self-
assertiveness such as jockeying for conversational turns (having your
say) may, at times, take on a mildly competitive edge, albeit often laced
with humour. But, this always occurs against a backdrop of ‘give and
take’ between those involved and cannot be interpreted as ‘theft’ or a
struggle for dominance. In fact, it is part of a collective invigoration in
which everyone receives emotional energy (Collins 2005).
Benign influence and control thrives on and stimulates creativity and
intuition rather than suppresses them. Consider, for example, trying to
 Intimacy and Interpersonal Control 57

persuade your partner to be more outgoing or sociable (even though he

or she is reluctant and lacking in confidence), because you think you’ll
both have more fun together as a result. Doing this in a way that is sen-
sitive to their fears and anxieties, while making them feel supported,
requires a good deal of imagination and creativity. Since even the
briefest and most perfunctory encounter such as greeting someone in
the street not only involves mutual power, control and influence, it also
requires creativity and intuition to be successful. Everyday life involves
using personal power to make things happen, to engage in the ebb and
flow of social encounters. In short, social effectiveness is essential for
making relationships ‘work’ in the interests of all concerned.
Surrendering control means surrendering effectiveness, inner power,
skill and competence in social relationships. In this sense benign control
is an intrinsic and essential part of social life. Without it we would be
unable to attract and sustain social relationships. In so far as it relies on
the mutual trust and obligations of those involved, there is also a moral
aspect to it (Goffman 1983, Giddens 1987, Rawls 1987). Far from ‘steal-
ing’ one another’s energy, mutual benign control is a process of give and
take that strengthens emotional bonds. It is about giving and receiving a
mutually satisfying balance of psycho-emotional energy. Benign control
is about re-energising one another and reinforcing bonds.

Aspects of control: A two-way process

It is tempting to think of control as the work of one person – who

controls another – as if the other is simply ‘controlled’. But the point
of benign control is to entice, seduce or persuade the other into com-
pliance. A person becomes entrained in another’s agenda as a willing
and committed participant. He or she is invited to ‘come aboard’, so to
speak, and have an active say in what happens and how things work out.
One partner becomes an integral part of the other’s vision by becom-
ing committed to the agenda on offer and helping shape its further
development. A feedback loop of power, control and influence is thus
created.
An example of this would be if one partner is keen on keeping in
contact with the friends she or he knew before becoming ‘a couple’,
but the other partner wants to make a radical break with previous links.
The process of bargaining might go something like the following. The
first partner suggests that keeping in contact with his or her friends will
benefit the partnership in two ways. First, by making him or her happy
58 Intimacy and Power

they would be a better person to live with. Second, if given a chance, it

would become obvious how valuable and nice these friends really are.
The other partner might respond with ‘if you must keep your friends
I don’t want to be relegated in your affections’, or ‘its fine for you to
keep in touch with your friends, but in return I’ll expect you to spend
a little more time with my parents’. In this respect he or she shows
a willingness to fall in line but only if he or she receives ‘something’
in return. In so doing the other partner’s own agenda is set in motion
and is developed as a counterpoint. Thus, whoever initiates a particular
agenda through a power play immediately stimulates the other’s power,
creating a continuous feedback loop.

Control: An ever-changing balance

In benign control the power balance is always changing, tilting first

towards one person, then towards the other. It’s very rarely completely
stable or fixed with one person regularly dominating the other. Such
changes may occur because of an agreed division of labour in which
one person feels more comfortable dealing with particular issues or situ-
ations while the other takes responsibility in other areas where they feel
‘powerful’. These agreements may be deliberately arrived at, or emerge
naturally, over time. One partner may take charge of arranging outings,
going on holiday, or keeping in touch with parents and in-laws, while
the other takes the lead in terms of domestic arrangements, keeping
things tidy, clean and in good working order. Although practical domes-
tic matters may be a point of conflict, emotional issues are even more
fraught. Unresolved issues about initiating sex, or being thoughtful, car-
ing and ‘romantic’ can lead to unhappiness and frustration. Usually the
point of contention is about who should be ‘taking control’ in particular
situations.
Sometimes, imbalances of power are the result of differences in per-
sonality or temperament, such as one person being timid and shy in
company while the other is more outgoing and socially confident. Such
differences in power, control and influence vary from situation to situ-
ation and generally balance themselves out. But sometimes one partner
may take temporary advantage of the other when they happen to be in
the ascendancy (perhaps to settle an old score), or more ‘innocently’, to
inject an exciting frisson into the relationship. It may be done knowing
that when the situation is reversed, more than likely the other part-
ner will do the same – a kind of tit for tat. However, genuine mutually
 Intimacy and Interpersonal Control 59

benign control never becomes frozen into a fixed inequality – ebbs and
flows in power and control are essential.

Self-disclosure, feelings and control

Even household chores, arranging holidays or keeping in contact with

mutual friends involve intimacy and control games and often reflect
deeper emotional issues that remain unspoken. They may, in fact, be
a source of loving pleasure and pride that feeds back into the relation-
ship making the bond all the stronger for it. But, if doing the chores
is regarded as dull and irritating then this may cause resentment and
annoyance. But why should a person experience irritation rather than
pleasure? Partly this may be the result of a personal preference, a liking
or disliking of certain kinds of tasks. But more than likely a person’s feel-
ings (about the task) will be directly related to the current state of the
relationship, spotlighting the link between control and emotion. Some-
one who has negative feelings is expressing dissatisfaction with some
aspect of personal control – for example, feeling used, or not valued
enough, or feeling upset about unresolved issues. Conversely, tackling
household chores in an upbeat manner may reflect an individual’s
satisfaction with their personal control.
But even emotive issues such as sociability, or affection, are frequently
about more than they seem. For example, if one partner complains that
the other should make more effort to be sociable, or more demonstra-
tive, then he or she is probably signalling a deeper dissatisfaction with
the balance of control and emotion in the relationship. In effect, they
are indicating more than that the partner ‘should kiss them more often’,
or that they should say ‘I love you’ more often. They are expressing a
deeper dissatisfaction. Perhaps that she or he needs more space, or to
feel more valued, or not to be always responsible for taking more of the
initiative in matters of intimacy, including sex. It may even be a coded
way of saying ‘You don’t really turn me on any more!’ But crucially, dis-
pleasure is not fully revealed and remains unspoken. Unfortunately, the
same is often true of more positive feelings. Many people think positive
things about their partner but don’t actually share them. Potentially,
this can be as damaging as having directly negative feelings for a partner.
Why do such feelings often remain unrecognised and not discussed
by the partners – as Reibstein (1997), Miller (1995), Marshall (2006) and
Craib (1998) have observed? One answer to the question is that many
people have difficulty expressing emotions and feelings about personal
relationships and thus prefer to avoid the issue altogether. Part of the
60 Intimacy and Power

problem is that such feelings are below ‘ordinary awareness’, so that we

are hardly conscious of their importance (Giddens 1984, Vaitkus 1991).
Another factor is that feelings come to us as diffuse sensations that are
not easy to pin down or put into words. This is even more difficult if we
don’t have a vocabulary with which to express them. In this respect it’s
a whole lot easier just to feel sad, or lonely, or hurt than to try to put the
experiences into words.
In short, we are frequently unsure about the significance of emotions
and how to talk about them and this is reinforced by other factors such
as fear and anxiety. Some people are afraid of what particular feelings
mean about themselves. For instance, does dissatisfaction indicate a
weakness, a form of insecurity, an inability to cope, or an unpalatable
desire? Some people are afraid of revealing particular feelings about their
partner and would prefer to ignore them. Some are ashamed of feelings
such as humiliation or overwhelming love. Yet others are afraid what
others, or their partner in particular, will say, think, or do if such feelings
are revealed.

Benign but not selfless

Since control, self-disclosure and emotion are so closely intertwined it

is perhaps not surprising that they are also entangled with issues about
egotism and self-interest. Contrary to many spiritual approaches to the
self (Tolle 2005), it is a mistake to equate the ego with total selfishness
or to imagine that a modicum of self-interest must always be at odds
with a concern about the welfare of others. In this respect the ego func-
tions as a centre of awareness providing us with a sense of ‘who we are’
as unique personal identities (Branden 1985, Layder 2004a). It allows
us to distinguish our experience from others and hence enables us to
grasp our relation to them. Thus the ego is an essential aspect of the
social self. Without it we would have no clearly defined zone of self-
interest and would thus be prone to engulfment anxieties (Laing 1969,
Miller 1995). In turn, this would thwart the generation of self-esteem,
self-value and self-worth. Furthermore, without these essential anchors
of personal identity we would be constantly undermined by others –
deliberately or inadvertently – in social encounters.
But the ego’s essential and positive aspects are completely overlooked
by those who insist that it is only concerned with self-interest, or the
denial of other’s feelings or interests. In this respect selfish motives and
desires will always play some part in benign control and influence, even
when other’s interests are being taken seriously. Even making a partner
 Intimacy and Interpersonal Control 61

happy is driven, to some extent, by anticipating the pleasure gained

in so doing. It is impossible to separate out one’s own interests from a
partner’s, or the community’s or the neighbours’. In this sense, ‘softer’
versions of self-interest and manipulation are part of benign control and
complement the regular shifts in the balance of power in intimate rela-
tionships. These do not add up to major selfishness – the kind that
completely excludes the interests, wishes and desires of others. Taking
partners’ (or friends) needs and desires into account is never completely
free of selfishness in a minor key. In this sense human behaviour is
always an unclear mixture of selfishness and altruism. Similarly, ‘uncon-
ditional’ love is surely very rare – possibly reserved for saints and others
who have ‘transcended’ this worldly life. A person who sacrifices much
for love at least anticipates that the ‘giving’ will be satisfying (if not
pleasurable) in some way.
Even idealised versions of romantic love or friendship cannot involve
total selflessness, because both partners want to satisfy their own desires
and needs. We don’t treat our partners completely selflessly, nor do we
expect them to behave in such a manner towards us. But we do expect
them to take our interests and desires into account as they follow their
own. We also assume that if we tell them about our personal needs, they
will be willing to at least try to meet them. In this sense, love, romance
and friendship are based on implicit agreements about what we expect
of one another. A relationship based on unrealistic expectations about
unconditional love cannot survive for long.

Interpersonal control and intimacy

There are two dominant interconnected themes that flow through the
foregoing discussion. They are, first, the idea of the individual as ‘a
seeker of control-through-influence’ in relation to his or her psycho-
emotional needs and, second, that the quality of couple intimacy is the
emergent outcome of interpersonal negotiation. To say that the individ-
ual seeks control-through-influence is not to be confused with the idea
of the ‘powerful self’ (identified by Craib [1998] in the work of Giddens
[1991, 1992]). Psychobiographical variations in levels of competence,
self-esteem, self-confidence and security and so on mean that the ability
to influence and control others also varies from individual to individual.
In short, there is no generic ‘tranformative capacity’ as Giddens (1984)
suggests.
In couple intimacy individuals seek to control and influence each
other in order to achieve sexual and psycho-emotional satisfaction.
62 Intimacy and Power

But mutual satisfaction is achieved only if they respect each other’s

rights and respond sensitively to each other’s feelings, needs and
desires. In this regard partners’ attempts at control-through-influence
and persuasion are reflected in constant negotiations around their
psycho-emotional needs. Thus mutual benign control is absolutely piv-
otal to the achievement of mutually satisfying intimacy. Of course,
mutual benign control never achieves an ideal state. Elements of self-
ishness creep into any intimate relationship and, in fact, are a natural
part of its ongoing dramatic narrative. However, if manipulative strate-
gies begin to overwhelm a relationship making its power basis more
and more inflexible, then eventually mutual satisfaction will be fatally
compromised.
5
Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills

This chapter examines and critically reviews evidence suggesting that

there are marked differences in the ways men and women approach
intimacy. Among others, Tannen (1992, 2002) and Baron-Cohen (2004)
have argued that men and women differ in terms of their respective
conversational styles, their ability to talk, listen and empathise and thus
to support and encourage personal closeness or intimacy. Clearly, the
presence of such abilities and skills is necessary for creating the kind
of mutual self-disclosure on which modern intimacy is based (Giddens
1992). So it is important to assess the validity of claims that men and
women differ in their capacities for intimacy. The view adopted here is
that such claims are questionable on various grounds and I outline two
strands of argument in support of this position.
First, the theory of social domains (Layder 1997) that provides the
underlying framework of this study points to a number of reasons
why understanding couple intimacy in terms of generalised gender dif-
ferences lacks subtlety and explanatory adequacy. The second strand
concerns recent work on language and gender by Cameron (2007) and
others (Hyde 2005, Holmes 2006) suggesting that there is little real evi-
dence to support the idea of fundamental differences in the way that
men and women use language to communicate. In significant ways both
strands overlap and complement each other – particularly in so far as
they both call for a more sophisticated approach to the issue. However,
there are also some important differences of emphasis, particularly in
the way the role of power and control is understood.

Social domains, gender and intimacy

To arrive at a truly comprehensive and, therefore, adequate understand-

ing of couple intimacy it is necessary to view it as embedded in, and

63
64 Intimacy and Power

influenced by, different, but complementary social domains. Instead of

understanding behaviour – in this case, couple intimacy – as the out-
come of one main domain (as do many sociological accounts) it is seen
as the result of the overlapping influence of several. These are described
as follows.

The macro influences of culture and group membership

Intimacy is influenced by cultural factors such as ideas, fashions, values
and expectations as they are expressed and represented in books, news-
papers, magazines, films, videos, music and so on. Notions and ideas
about romantic love, the best ways to please your partner, how to make
someone fall in love with you, the rituals of courtship, the dangers and
frissons of extra-marital sex, the idea of companionate marriage, the
sanctity of commitment, are all represented in various cultural forms
and thus are often reflected in the behaviour of those people who have
been exposed to them. Similarly, the move from pre-modern intimacy
based on external ties of tradition, duty and obligation to the modern
form in which the couple is at the centre of a ‘pure relationship’ (Gid-
dens 1992, Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 1995) is an example of the way in
which attitudes towards intimacy are shaped by cultural history.
Often in tandem with these influences are those that derive from
membership of, and identification with, various social groupings such
as those of gender, class, ethnicity and age. Individuals internalise the
values, attitudes and habits (the cultural life) of such groupings (Bour-
dieu talks about group’ ‘habitus’) and this affects the way they view
the social world. They perceive it through the lens of their experience
of group affiliation and, as a consequence, it shapes their behaviour.
Thus, the fact of being a man or a woman, young or old, working class
or middle class, of one ethnicity or another will, in some way, affect a
person’s attitudes and behaviour. Important here is the power of various
groupings in relation to others and whether they are dominant or subor-
dinate. Thus it is often claimed (Cameron 2007) that women (as a group)
are subordinate to men (as a group) – I shall return to the connection
between structural power, gender and intimacy later in the discussion.
Many sociologists are content to focus on the influences of the above
domain (including structural, institutional, cultural and group factors).
As a consequence, they tend to view individual social behaviour and
social interaction as directly shaped by macro influences like gender.
The theory of social domains suggests that the relation between society
and individual behaviour is more complex and nuanced than this and
that the influences of macro or structural factors are selectively filtered
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 65

and modified by other equally important social domains. As a result, the

behaviour of both individuals and that of couples (dyads) is shaped in a
more complex and sophisticated manner.

The influence of social settings

Behaviour and interaction – between couples in particular – takes place
in the context of various formal and informal social settings (such as
the home, work organisation, on the street, in restaurants and so on),
and is significantly influenced by them. Each setting is characterised
by a set of social rules, obligations and expectations – sometimes quite
explicit and formally defined, sometimes more in the form of unspoken
informal agreements – about the kind of behaviour that is appropriate
within them. Thus in some situations like coffee bars, pubs or pub-
lic places certain kinds of intimate behaviour – like passionate kissing
or embracing – are generally regarded as inappropriate, while in pri-
vate they may be actively encouraged or expected. Even the deliberate
breaking of such rules gains its force or appeal precisely because of the
infraction of the rule. The range of behaviour permitted in, or appropri-
ate to, particular settings is vast. In displays of couple intimacy, different
social settings significantly influence (positively or negatively) the kind
of behaviour that is deemed appropriate. Mostly, of course, intimacy
occurs in informal (often domestic) settings – the most intense forms of
intimacy usually taking place behind closed doors.

The influence of situated activity – Interpersonal relations

Behaviour is also filtered and shaped by discrete pockets of interper-
sonal or face-to-face interaction. Situated activity (in many ways similar
to Goffman’s ‘interaction order’) is a domain of influence in its own
right, because interpersonal activity has its own relatively independent
effects on behaviour: how people relate to each other on an immedi-
ate face-to-face basis affects their self-identities, how they feel about
each other, how they define their relations with each other and so on.
In the case of intimacy we have already examined some of the effects
of this domain in terms of the way specific couples develop relation-
ship habits and power games around intimacy (for example, what they
talk about and how they talk to one another). Such habits and pat-
terns of control do not result simply from the effects of macro structural
factors or the influence of social settings. Whilst being in part influ-
enced by both these factors, interpersonal relations also produce their
own ‘emergent’ behavioural effects from the combined inputs of the
individuals involved.
66 Intimacy and Power

The influence of psychobiography

Again the influence of this domain has already been covered in Chap-
ter 3. However, to complete the overall picture of how the combined
influence of different domains shapes social behaviour, it has to be
pointed out that individual psychobiographies are also responsible for
selectively filtering the effects of the other three domains as they flow
downwards (and forwards through time and space). So, for exam-
ple, the macro structural effects of gender on intimacy are filtered
through social settings and interpersonal behaviour and, in the final
instance, through individual’s psychological preferences, dispositions
and so forth acquired through social experience over time. But it is
important to stress that the direction of the flow of influence is not
simply ‘downwards’ from macro to micro levels; it also moves in the
other direction from micro to macro in a reciprocal fashion. Individual
characteristics may shape and modify interpersonal behaviour and, in
turn, counteract the constraining effects of social settings and/or group
membership. There are no fixed or predetermined directions or flows of
influence in the way the domains relate to each other. Particular causal
influences are always the result of actual empirical circumstances and, as
a general rule, cannot be predicted in advance of knowledge of these cir-
cumstances. The combined influences and effects of domains on social
behaviour are simultaneous and diffuse.
Thus from the point of view of domain theory, it is inappropriate to
think in terms of ‘fundamental’ gender differences (the macro struc-
tural effect of group membership) since any such differences will be
continually reshaped and modified by the selective influence of other
domains. Thus from the domain theory perspective claims about aver-
age gender characteristics, such as Tannen’s (1992, 2002) that women
are better able to talk about feelings than men, and that they pre-
fer cooperation (over men’s competitiveness) or Baron-Cohen’s (2004)
that men have greater ‘systematising’ skills while women are better at
‘empathy’, are over-generalised stereotypes always in danger of giving
a misleading or inaccurate picture. For instance, the appropriateness of
talking about feelings or the intensity and amount of empathy between
intimate partners varies from setting to setting, and also depends on
differences in the rhythm and flow of emotional energy in their encoun-
ters. Finally, empathy and the quality of intimate talk depend on the
personal characteristics of the individual partners as well as possible
fluctuations in their moods.
From this sketch of some of the central features of domain theory
(see Layder [1997, 1998] for detailed accounts), it is clear that the idea
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 67

of fundamental gender differences – in this case in intimacy skills and

behaviour – is difficult to sustain in any realistic sense. Thus the fol-
lowing discussion of the work of those who propagate such a view will
naturally be critical. This critical perspective is supported by the work
of Cameron (2007) and others, which provides counter evidence for
some of the claims made by those who argue for fundamental gender
differences. In this regard Cameron suggests that much behaviour is

influenced by the roles, relationships, expectations and obligations in

a particular context. Although we remain men and women in every
context, our roles as men and women vary from one situation to
another, and our linguistic behaviour reflects that variation.

She goes on to point out that ‘sometimes the gender differences which
matter most are not differences between women and men, but differ-
ences between women and women or men and men’ (Cameron 2007:
51). It is clear that in this sense Cameron’s views directly support and
complement some of the propositions of domain theory, although her
comments are based on evidence and arguments that are quite indepen-
dent of the theory. However, in later parts of the following discussion –
particularly where I discuss the question of power and control – my
approach takes a distinctly different tack from Cameron (and others)
and is, in fact, critical of some of their assumptions.
However, it is important to say that the purpose of the overall discus-
sion is not wholly negative. In a more positive vein, examination of this
work reveals some of the possible differences in intimacy style that may
prove problematic or supportive of good intimacy. It also enables us to
define some of the linguistic and communication skills that are neces-
sary for good intimacy regardless of whether they are possessed and/or
used by men or women. The discussion first examines Tannen’s claims
about fundamental gender differences and then moves on to Baron-
Cohen’s claims, in each case teasing out the purported implications for
couple intimacy.

Men, women and conversational styles

Deborah Tannen suggests that men and women regard personal rela-
tionships differently and this is expressed in their conversational styles.
Tannen arrives at her overall picture by drawing on her own and others’
research on the ways men and women use language in everyday conver-
sation. By stressing their ‘involvement’ and ‘connection’ with others,
68 Intimacy and Power

Tannen contends that women seem more concerned with intimacy.

With friends they ‘minimize differences, try to reach consensus, and
avoid the appearance of superiority which would highlight differences’
(1992: 26). Thus women are more interested in making connections
with other people. They ask themselves: ‘is the other person trying to
get closer or pull away?’ (p. 38). They also feel that using status is manip-
ulative and unfair. But these preferences per se cannot be gender-specific,
because there are clearly situations (friendship and some work tasks) in
which men need to cooperate with each other, make connections and
reach agreement and where any other strategy would be dysfunctional
and unnecessarily obstructive for all concerned. Trying to be intimate
with someone is a case in point. You cannot be intimate with someone
unless you try to connect with him or her.
Tannen goes on to claim that men tend to see the world of human
relations as hierarchical and so status differences are very important.
Independence is the key for men (rather than connection and involve-
ment), ‘because a primary means of establishing status is to tell others
what to do, and taking orders is a marker of low status’ (p. 26). Thus men
tend to be competitive, and individualistic, as when they jockey for sta-
tus in a conversation. They ask themselves: ‘is the other person trying to
be one up, or put me down? Is he trying to establish a dominant posi-
tion by getting me to do his bidding?’ (p. 38). It is because they see the
world as hierarchical that they perceive those who play on connection
(women) as deceptive because they ‘pretend’ that status doesn’t exist.
But this characterisation of the difference between men and women
is more of an exaggerated stereotype than a factual statement based
on solid evidence. For instance, Baxter (2005) found that there was as
much competition as cooperation amongst a group of girls, that they
were no less competitive than boys and that their peer groups were
no less hierarchical. Goodwin’s (2006) research also indicated that girls’
behaviour did not fit with the expectation that boys are more assertive
and girls are more supportive. She found ample evidence of girls
being directly confrontational and argumentative, by giving orders and
arguing.
Tannen contends that the fundamental gender difference she
describes can lead to all manner of misunderstandings between men
and women. For instance, if a man is asked if he and his wife or part-
ner would like to come to dinner, he may show his ‘independence’ by
accepting the invitation without consulting his wife or partner. From
his point of view he’s showing that he can make decisions without ask-
ing anyone’s permission. However, his wife or partner might take this
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 69

as a rejection of her. She would prefer him to consult her not simply
out of courtesy, but because she wants to feel valued and close to him
by taking her wishes into account. However, Cameron contests the idea
that misunderstandings inevitably occur because of fundamental gender
differences. She points out that any exchange between human beings
can go awry ‘simply because language is not telepathy’ (2007: 98) not
because they communicate in fundamentally different ways.
Nevertheless, Tannen insists that the above example also highlights
the fact that men tend to listen for, and concentrate on, the messages
in talk and conversation. Women take much more account of the meta-
messages, which comment on the relationship (its emotional ‘state of
play’). In the previous example, the woman ‘hears’ the meta-message:
‘you are not important enough to me to take your views into account’.
The fact that her partner acted without taking her views and feelings
into account indicates that there is problem between them. According
to Tannen, when the man says ‘oh by the way I said we’d go over to
the Jones’s for dinner tomorrow’, he focuses on the ‘information’ and
doesn’t hear the negative meta-message. He fails to appreciate that the
issue is also one of intimacy, and not simply about facts or information.
Again, however, Cameron points out that research evidence does not
support Tannen’s claims. The idea that men and women have ‘a partic-
ular problem because they differ systematically in their ways of using
language, and that this is a major source of conflict between them, does
not stand up to scrutiny’ (2007: 98–99).
Tannen goes on to suggest that although all humans need both inti-
macy (involvement) and independence, women tend to focus on the
former and men on the latter. However, the very fact that there are
universal human needs for both involvement and independence implies
that they are present to the same extent in men and women. In fact,
Hyde’s (2005) ‘meta analysis’ of studies of gender differences in commu-
nicative behaviour does not support Tannen’s claims here. Again, the
idea of fundamental differences between men and women is eminently
disputable. However, if we consider the question from the point of view
of individual styles and preferences (regardless of gender), it is highly
probable that differences in emphasis on involvement and/or indepen-
dence might cause tension in couples. Individuals (men and women
equally) may find themselves at cross-purposes because they value dif-
ferent things and get what they want in different ways. Individuals
who value independence will use status competition to establish their
‘involvement’ with others. Those who value involvement and solidarity
with others will use connection to establish intimacy.
70 Intimacy and Power

Talk and intimacy

Tannen claims that men more readily use what she refers to as ‘report-
talk’ (giving out information) instead of the ‘rapport-talk’ (getting closer
to each other) favoured by women (Tannen 1992: 77). In conversation
women tend to establish connections with others. They emphasise sim-
ilar experiences and what they have in common with others and are
critical of those who try to stand out or appear superior. Again, there
seems to be scant evidence for these claims. For example, Hyde (2005)
found only tiny (statistically insignificant) differences in assertive and
affiliative speech and self-disclosure between men and women. Never-
theless, Tannen goes on to suggest that women feel most at home with
‘private’ conversation and often approach public situations as if they
were private. For men, by contrast, talk is a way of maintaining sta-
tus and independence in social life. As Tannen says, this is done by
exhibiting knowledge and skill, and by holding centre stage through
verbal performance such as story-telling, joking or imparting informa-
tion. Men are comfortable with ‘public speaking’ in larger groups. They
often approach even the most private situations as if they were public by
offering a ‘report’ rather than rapport. However, it is likely, as Cameron
says, that such examples of differences in behaviour are influenced by
variations in context (such as formal versus informal situations) and
the roles, expectations and obligations that are associated with them
(Cameron 2007: 119).
Tannen asserts that these differences may also be the cause of mis-
understanding and hurt between men and women. For example, while
some men are often lively and entertaining ‘talkers’ at parties or in
the company of mutual friends, at home alone with their partners,
women often complain that the man with whom they are most inti-
mate ‘doesn’t talk to me’ and ‘doesn’t listen to me’. However, according
to Tannen, often men won’t talk about fleeting thoughts and feelings
experienced throughout the day (things that a woman might share with
close friends), because to him they don’t seem important or interesting.
What men regard as ‘important’ (sports, politics, news, current affairs) is
usually different from women (thoughts and feelings, who called, who
they met, what they said). These characterisations are somewhat con-
tradicted by Hyde’s (2005) analysis of a large number of studies which
found minimal differences between talkativeness and speech production
between males and females.
Nevertheless in Tannen’s view, talk, for women, ‘is’ involvement, and
listening shows care and interest. On the other hand, men’s taciturnity is
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 71

perceived as a failure of intimacy: ‘He’s keeping things from her: he’s lost
interest in her; he’s pulling away’ (p. 83). For their part many men don’t
feel the need for talk – the companionability of their partner’s presence
is all they need and cherish. They feel that home is a comforting place
where they don’t need to ‘prove themselves through verbal display’
and are ‘free to remain silent’. For women, on the other hand, ‘home
is a place where they are free to talk, and where they feel the greatest
need for talk, with those they are closest to’ (p. 86). However, Tannen
is remiss for not considering the possibility that such attitudes and pre-
dispositions may derive from a number of factors other than systematic
gender differences – for instance, the influence of class or contextual
or situational factors, or even simply individual (psychobiographical)
preferences.

Differences in listening

All of us want to be understood and valued by others while others

are dependent on us to do the same for them. The act of ‘listening’
to someone is a practical way of showing this. Tannen suggests that
because of their different listening skills women may get the impres-
sion that men aren’t listening to them when they really are. Drawing on
the work of Maltz and Borker (1983), Tannen explains that this hap-
pens because men have different ways of showing they’re listening.
In conversations women are more inclined to ask questions and give
more listening responses like mhm, uh-uh and yeah. Also, by agreeing
and laughing more, they are generally more enthusiastic and positive.
Cameron (2007: 84) points out that Maltz and Borker meant this to
be a speculative suggestion – something that may or may not be con-
firmed by further test and evidence. Unfortunately, Tannen takes it as
a statement of evidentially based fact and goes on to suggest that in
all these ways women show they are listening and in so doing create
rapport and encourage further talk. Men, by contrast, give fewer listen-
ing signals. They tend to make statements rather than ask questions,
and challenge other speakers rather than agree with them. Such men
compete to ‘take the floor’ in a conversation rather than being part of
the ‘audience’ for another speaker. In conversations men generally want
to give out information and opinions rather than be attentive listen-
ers. Again this is somewhat contested by the research by Reid-Thomas
(1993) who found that it is context, not gender, which indicates how
people should interpret minimal responses.
72 Intimacy and Power

Tannen uses Maltz and Borker’s work to show that not only do women
give more listening signals, but also that the signals they give have dif-
ferent meanings for men and women. Women use ‘yeah’ to mean ‘I’m
with you’ (or ‘I’m listening to what you say’), whereas men tend to say
‘yeah’ only when they agree. This may lead to misunderstandings. If
a woman says ‘yeah, yeah’ as a man speaks to her and then says she
doesn’t agree with him, he may think that she is being insincere or that
she was just saying yeah whilst not really listening. On the other hand, if
a man does not say anything while a woman is speaking to him, she may
conclude that he’s not listening at all. According to Tannen, women are
clearly focusing on the meta-messages of talk, while men focus on the
message level. However, to reinforce the point made earlier, Cameron
points out that Maltz and Borker

did not carry out systematic tests to see if men and women inter-
preted the same minimal responses differently. The point of their
article was to raise the possibility that a gender difference might exist,
and suggest that this should be investigated in future research. But
as happens all too frequently with claims about male–female differ-
ences, what was put forward as a speculation soon started to be cited
as a fact.
(Cameron 2007: 83–4)

Power, indirectness and misunderstandings

In Tannen’s view women generally use cooperation to give them power.

Men think that power is more about individual competition. For them
life is a contest, ‘in which they are constantly tested and must per-
form, in order to avoid the risk of failure’ (1992: 178). In addition,
for women disagreement implies a threat to intimacy, whereas men
regard the expression of disagreement as a sign of intimacy (p. 168).
To achieve better communication Tannen suggests that many women
‘could learn from men to accept some conflict and difference without
seeing it as a threat to intimacy, and many men could learn from women
to accept interdependence without seeing it as a threat to their freedom’
(p. 294). But such assertions must be judged against Cameron’s view
that although some conflicts between individual men and women are
caused by misunderstanding, ‘the research evidence does not support
the claims made by Tannen and others about the nature, the causes and
prevalence of male–female miscommunication’ (2007: 98).
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 73

Tannen argues that women are typically indirect when expressing

their wishes, wants and needs while men are often more direct. For exam-
ple, a man might ask a woman ‘Will you please go to the shop?’ whereas
a woman might say ‘I do need some things, but I’m too tired to go to
the shops’. Tannen suggests that women’s indirectness is not because
they are powerless and don’t feel they have the right to ask directly.
Rather, being indirect helps to establish connection and rapport by get-
ting others to want the same thing, or offer it freely. Being direct and
‘demanding’ is about being one-up because others are doing what you
tell them (Tannen 1992: 225). But yet again Tannen’s claims in this case
about women’s greater indirectness are not necessarily borne out by the
evidence presented by Goodwin (2006) who shows that they rely also
on direct strategies.
Yet despite this lack of corroborating evidence, Tannen pushes her the-
sis even further by suggesting that these purported gender differences
can lead to serious misunderstandings. But given that these differ-
ences may be minimal or even non-existent it is better to envisage
misunderstandings as the result of individual psychobiographical dif-
ferences. Such individual differences of style may, in fact, set in motion
‘a mutually aggravating spiral by which each person’s response to the
other’s behaviour provokes more exaggerated forms of the divergent
behaviour’. For example, a person who is afraid of losing his or her
freedom will pull away as soon as they think that someone is trying
to ‘control’ them. The other (man or woman) may see this as a threat
to intimacy and try to get closer in response. However, this only makes
him or her pull away further in fear, which simply increases their fears
about intimacy in ‘an ever-widening spiral’ (Tannen 1992: 282).

Essential intimacy skills

Tannen clearly makes exaggerated claims about fundamental gender

differences which may well be better understood as stemming from
the selective conditioning effects of different social domains (Layder
1997) or in terms of Cameron’s (2007) complementary emphasis on
roles, expectations, obligations and contextual variations. But if for the
moment we disregard Tannen’s more contentious claims about gender
differences, it is possible that an examination of some of the issues and
topics she focuses on may tell us something about the conversational
and communication skills that are essential for intimacy. For exam-
ple, conversational styles stressing connection, involvement, sharing,
affiliation and closeness facilitate intimacy more than those that stress
74 Intimacy and Power

independence, competitiveness and status. Other things reinforce these

styles. For example, in ‘rapport talk’ the talk is an end in itself and con-
trasts with ‘report talk’, which may provide a means of ‘being one-up’
in a conversation. Similarly, to be good at intimacy you must be good
at ‘listening’. By making supportive comments and sounds, a good lis-
tener may encourage another to ‘open-up’ and talk about personal issues
he or she might not otherwise disclose. Where both partners are good
listeners, closeness and bonding will follow.
Certainly, being indirect and using ‘meta-messages’ are not indica-
tions of weakness. In fact, they are essential for intimacy. Implying that
someone should do something rather than directly asking them to do it
gains the pay-off of rapport. Persuading them to volunteer, rather than
requiring them to comply, avoids the risk of insulting them. Indirect-
ness is strongly linked with meta-messages in talk. In order to respond
to the real underlying message, the recipient must be sensitive enough
to ‘hear’ it in the first place, and experienced enough to know what it
means. It also involves emotional skills like appreciating others’ feel-
ings and circumstances. Giving off the right signals, and striking the
right ‘level’ of intimacy, is important. Of course, it is possible to be too
intimate – too close and too involved – so that a relationship becomes
cloying and oppressive. Part of the art of intimacy, therefore, is to help
generate a good atmosphere in which self-esteem, self-confidence and
self-worth all thrive.

Intimacy, control and influence

Tannen tends to operate with generalised stereotypes when she suggests

that women’s power is based on their connection and involvement with
others whereas men see power very much in individual terms and hence
focus on independence and compete for status with others. Tannen
overlooks that fact that like all human beings, women as individuals
must possess some independence, otherwise they would never be clear
or certain about who they were – their personal identity – nor would
they be able to generate self-esteem or self-confidence. It may be true
that individual women may derive some support from their connection
and involvement with others but their own individuality and personal
power cannot be completely dependent on it – otherwise they would
simply be robotic conformists.
Thus overemphasising women’s preference for involvement and con-
nection deflects attention from the fact that they also have individual
power, and creates a false contrast with men. The real contrast is in
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 75

the way individuals (men and women), control and influence others.
While they may (perhaps at different times) use different strategies of
control and influence, all individuals use their personal power to make
things happen. All individuals exercise personal power and control. In
this sense women aren’t control neutral as Tannen implies. So the real
question is how do people (men and women) get they want? How do
they enlist the help and support of others to make their lives happen? In
this respect indirectness, rapport and involvement are aspects of mutual
benign control. It may be that some individuals are more intimacy-
friendly because they use benign control more readily than others, but
it is still a form of control and influence nevertheless.
Furthermore, Tannen makes a false contrast between getting on with
others and the idea of manipulation. But getting on with others requires
the use of benign control and ‘soft’ manipulation. It involves skilfully
handling people so that they eventually agree to what you want them
to do, while keeping your own self-interests in check. Manipulation is
harder and more exploitative when self-interest overrides others’ inter-
ests, rights and wishes (Layder 2004b). As long as it genuinely embraces
another’s interest then manipulation remains ‘soft’. For example, a per-
son may manipulate (skilfully manage) a partner’s feelings and views to
make him or her want to start a family or decide to emigrate. Of course,
the partner may respond by skilfully persuading them to see or feel oth-
erwise – in short, to change their mind. Longstanding partners often
use such ‘manipulative’ ploys in daily life in relation to both trivial and
more serious issues.
Tannen overlooks the importance of interpersonal control (especially
in women) because she views it negatively as ‘control over’ someone
(stemming from their status), and thus she believes it to be antithet-
ical to intimacy (closeness). In this sense control is exclusively about
making someone do something against her or his will. Thus, Tannen
wrongly concludes that control and intimacy (closeness) are quite sepa-
rate dimensions of social life (2002: 71). But not all control is like this.
As we have seen, mutual benign control is an energising force enabling
people to get closer by calling out positive emotions in one another. It
is both the motive force of intimacy and the glue that bonds people
together for mutual benefit. This kind of power and control is about
using loving and caring gestures in a persuasive manner to bring out
equally loving and caring responses from a partner. In this sense emo-
tions and control are seamlessly interwoven (Layder 2004b). It is clear
that negative emotions (pain, frustration, hurt, sadness, hatred, disap-
pointment) often result from dominative or status control. But it is too
76 Intimacy and Power

easily forgotten that mutual benign control generates positive energy

and positive emotions (love, care, respect, trust, loyalty). Thus, closeness
is brought about through the influence of benign control in satisfying
intimacy needs in personal relationships. On the other hand, emotional
distance – or impersonality – is about denying intimacy needs through
dominative control (and hard manipulation).
By understanding power as a fixed status hierarchy, Tannen fails to
capture the multitude of ‘informal’ ways in which individuals actu-
ally use benign power. In this respect mutually satisfying intimacy is
created through force of personality, charisma, emotional intelligence
(Goleman 1996), personal appeals, seduction, persuasiveness and so on.
What I call ‘dynamic intimacy’ reflects the way the balance of power and
control shifts back and forth between partners, depending on the issue
(finance, dealing with children, in-laws, emotions, feelings), the kind of
situation (an accident, an emergency, a routine chore) and the life stage
(reaching a certain age, becoming ill, changing one’s views and atti-
tudes). Different phases of life and people’s emotional responses often
result in temporary shifts in the balance of power. This is an essential
part of optimal intimacy.
Hierarchical or dominative control is only relevant to personal rela-
tionships where the normal shifting balance of power has become
relatively fixed so that one person is in permanent control of the rela-
tionship. In this case, it is inappropriate to talk of optimal intimacy,
since by its very nature intimacy is something mutual and agreed upon.
A fixed status hierarchy in which people see themselves as one up, or
one down, doesn’t capture the flexibility and complexity of intimate
relationships.

Empathy and intimacy

Like Tannen, Baron-Cohen’s research suggests that there is an ‘essen-

tial difference’ between men and women. He proposes that ‘on average
females spontaneously empathize to a greater degree than do males’,
whereas ‘on average, males spontaneously systematize to a greater
degree than females’ (Baron-Cohen 2004: 2–4). Baron-Cohen stresses
that he is not talking about all males or all females, just the average
female compared to the average male. Thus, he suggests (quite correctly)
that ‘such group statistics say nothing about individuals’ (p. 183), so
that we can expect to find individual males being more empathic while
some females will be more adept at systematising. There are significant
numbers of males and females who have a balance of empathic and
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 77

systematising skills. The fact that Baron-Cohen is clearly aware that

‘group statistics tell us nothing about individuals’ would lead one to
think that he would avoid making rather global statements about gender
differences. However, despite this, his book is replete with references to
gender stereotypes such as men are natural systematisers while women
are natural empathisers, or that men and women are suited to particular
occupations because of their inherent skills (see Cameron 2007: 6–7).
Because Baron-Cohen also depends on many of the same sources as
Tannen (including Tannen herself) for support and confirmation of his
own ideas, many of his arguments and statements are subject to the
same criticisms.
For instance, Baron-Cohen endorses a number of Tannen’s general
points. For example, women tend to value connection and involve-
ment while men value power, politics and competition. Women focus
more on emotion and while they are capable of aggression at times, it
tends to be indirect or covert – such as gossip, exclusion and bitchy
remarks. Male aggression is far more direct (pushing, punching, hit-
ting and so on). Importantly, indirect aggression requires greater ‘mind
reading’ skills than does the more direct kind. The male concern with
dominance is associated with lower empathising skills. Men attain rank
either by being aggressive or ‘nasty’ to others or by being ‘good at an
activity; to be expert, knowledgeable and skilled in a particular system’ –
although both routes involve competition (2004: 42). Females tend to
use ‘flattery, charm, appreciation and respect’ (2004: 44). More gener-
ally, females take more notice of the emotional state of others with a
view to creating closeness. Males are more self-centred and concerned
about protecting their status and its benefits. As mentioned in relation
to Tannen, all these assumptions are questionable in the light of the evi-
dence provided by Hyde (2005), Goodwin (2006) and Cameron (2007)
herself.
Baron-Cohen goes on to say that ‘differences in speech styles suggest
that there are key differences in how self- and other-centred each sex
is. The speech styles of each sex suggest that there are sex differences
in how much speakers set aside their own desires to consider sensitively
someone else’s. Empathy again’ (2004: 56). But if we take seriously the
sorts of evidence that Cameron brings to bear against the idea of there
being systematic differences between men and women then we must
also question the idea of there being differences in ‘how self- and other-
centred each sex is’. However, if we conceive of speech styles as resulting
from an individual’s psychobiographical experiences (be they male or
female), rather than because of some necessity of their gender, then they
78 Intimacy and Power

could reflect differences in how self- or other-centred different individ-

uals are. Of course, this would have implications for intimacy in the
sense that only those individuals who are both self- and other-centred
in a fairly balanced manner are capable of true intimacy and empathy.
Baron-Cohen also suggests that ‘females are both better empathizers
and better in many aspects of language use’ (2004: 62) and that female
superiority in these language skills ‘may be part and parcel of developing
good empathising skills. Language skills (including good verbal mem-
ory), are essential in seamless chatting and establishing intimacy, to
make interaction smooth, fluent and socially binding’ (2004: 61). Again,
given the questionable nature of the evidence for any demonstrated
superiority in language skills (Hyde 2005, Cameron 2007), the idea that
being female per se entails a greater capacity for empathy is equally sus-
pect. Of course, as with the question of being ‘self- or other-centred’,
if we are talking about differences between individuals, then that is
another matter. If one partner (man or woman) is better at empathy
then, of course, this will make for an imbalance in intimacy skills.

Empathising versus systematising

Leaving aside the problematic and contestable issue of whether women

are better at empathising and men at systematising, Baron-Cohen does
manage to vividly characterise what is involved in these two kinds of
skills. For Baron-Cohen empathising

is about spontaneously and naturally tuning into the other person’s

thoughts and feelings whatever these might be. It is not about react-
ing to a small number of emotions in others, such as their pain or
sadness; it about reading the emotional atmosphere between people.
It is about effortlessly putting yourself into another’s shoes, sensi-
tively negotiating an interaction with another person so as not to
hurt or offend them in any way, caring about another’s feelings.
(2004: 24)

A natural empathiser notices other people’s feelings and constantly

monitors others’ tones of voice, their facial expressions (their eyes
in particular) to figure out what they’re thinking and feeling. An
empathiser also continually thinks about what the other person may be
thinking, not because they want to manipulate them but because they
care about what the other is feeling. She or he wants to comfort others,
to make them feel good and protect them from hurt.
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 79

Empathy is necessary for real communication; it is the opposite of a

monologue or ‘talking at’ someone. A conversation is not ‘story telling,
or lecturing, or indoctrinating, or persuading, or dominating or filling
silence’. Instead, a true conversation requires empathy which ‘allows for
a reciprocal dialogue, because you are constantly making space in the
conversation for the other person through turn-taking. Empathy allows
you to adjust your conversation to be attuned to theirs.’ Empathy is
essential for social interaction and social relationships. It motives you
to care about others’ problems and their experiences, to make them
feel supported, ‘rather than simply offloading your own difficulties onto
them’ (2004: 25–7).
On the other hand, according to Baron-Cohen, systematising is the
‘drive to analyse, explore and construct a system’ (2004: 3). It involves
figuring out how things work or what the underlying rules are which
govern the behaviour of the system. Systems take in phenomena as
broad ranging as machines, music, military strategy, the climate, sail-
ing, horticulture, computer programming, libraries, taxonomies, board
games, sports, economics, maths, physics, chemistry, logic. The motiva-
tion for systematising derives from the desire to understand the system
itself. The ‘reward’ or ‘buzz’ or ‘payoff’ comes in discovering the causes
of things because this gives you control over the world (2004: 68).
How do empathising and systematising affect intimacy? Baron-Cohen
is crystal clear: ‘systematizing gets you almost nowhere in most day-to-
day social interaction’. This is because ‘our behaviour and emotions are
not governed by rules to any useful degree’ and systematising ‘cannot
get a foothold into things like a person’s fluctuating feelings’ and there
are no ‘simple laws of how people will behave’. In short, ‘the natural way
to understand and predict the nature of events and objects is to systema-
tise’ and for this you need detachment ‘in order to monitor information
and track which factors cause information to vary’. On the other hand,
‘the natural way to understand a person is to empathize’ and for this
you need some degree of attachment ‘in order to recognize that you
are interacting with a person, not an object, but a person with feelings,
and whose feelings affect your own’ (2004: 5). Empathising doesn’t obey
laws and isn’t exact because you can’t always be sure that you’ve made
a mental connection with someone.
Clearly, the ability to systematise does not help in the negotiation of
social or personal life. Only empathy enables one to do that. If you are
predominantly a systematiser then you are surely faced with some dif-
ficulties. In very extreme cases of what Baron-Cohen calls the ‘extreme
male brain’, individuals who seem to have only systematising skills are
80 Intimacy and Power

likely to suffer from autism and asperger syndrome. For these individ-
uals, Baron-Cohen offers ample evidence of the damaging effects of
extreme systematising on social skills and the general ability to deal
with the most commonplace of social rituals, routines and encounters.
He devotes a whole chapter to describing the sorts of problems experi-
enced by people who are extremely high systematisers and who are also
highly intelligent and successful.
Now while Baron-Cohen provides vivid depictions of both empathis-
ing and systematising skills, we must take care to avoid the stereotype
characterisations of women as ‘natural empathisers’ and men as ‘natu-
ral systematisers’. This is especially important in the light of some of the
evidence counter to Tannen’s (and others) work. It is surely more plausi-
ble to suppose that all human beings need some of both skills depending
on what they are doing and the social circumstances in which they are
doing it. For instance, the technical aspects of flying an aircraft require
an abundance of systematising skills, but when talking to colleagues
such as flight crew or passengers – when they need to employ social
skills – pilots need to display empathy in no small measure (especially
if they are trying to keep passengers calm during an emergency). Like-
wise, systematising skills are involved in the technical aspects of playing
board games, but the interchanges between the game players during the
game are also social in nature and rely a good deal on empathic skills.
The social nature of the activity in conjunction with the social circum-
stances in which it occurs are the key features that both require and
determine displays of empathy or systematising – not some essential
gender or brain sex difference. Sure enough, some individuals may be
more proficient in, or at ease with, certain tasks and skills. But social life
inherently demands both kinds of skills.
In fact, some of Baron-Cohen’s own arguments seem to acknowl-
edge this and undercut the idea of essential differences between men
and women. For example, when he says that empathy is ‘the glue of
social relationships’ and that systematising gets you almost nowhere
in most day-to-day social interaction or the negotiation of personal
life, Baron-Cohen seems to acknowledge that empathy is an intrin-
sic requirement of social life in all its aspects. Also when describing
the mathematician Richard Borcherds, an extreme systemiser, Baron-
Cohen remarks that an ordinary friendly conversation was too much
for him because he couldn’t make sense of the ‘hidden meanings’
behind ‘glances and smiles, of innuendo and double-entendre, of
bluff and deception, embarrassment and camouflaged flirtation’ (2004:
155–8).
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 81

Without doubt, Borcherds faced the particular difficulty that he totally

lacked understanding of these social exchanges. But these are by no
means restricted to those individuals who have extreme problems in
this regard. The ambiguity of such messages, and the subtle games of
deniability that frequently surround them, means that it is difficult for
anyone to be absolutely certain about their meaning – let alone those
who are manifestly deficient in empathic skills. If it is true, as I think
it is, that people generally experience encounters as a ‘fast moving blur
of misunderstanding, error, folly and alienation, with only rare and too
brief moments of attunement’ (Scheff 1990: 50) then most people find
some aspects of social life difficult to decipher because of their ambigu-
ous nature. For example, who hasn’t experienced the uncertainty of not
knowing what a glance or a smile really meant? Who hasn’t, at times,
been wrong about the meaning of an innuendo or a double-entendre?
Who has never been taken in by a bluff or a deception? Who hasn’t, at
least occasionally, misconstrued an apparent flirtation? Indirect commu-
nication of this kind is vague and ambiguous and, therefore, sometimes
difficult to fathom.

Conclusion: Gender and couple intimacy

It would seem entirely questionable that the behavioural and psycho-

logical differences between the individuals who make up couples are
simply the result of fundamental or essential gender differences. As we
have seen, gender influences are often indirect and the result of varia-
tions in roles, expectations, obligations and contextual variations, as is
suggested by both the theory of social domains (Layder 1997) and the
research evidence presented by Cameron (2007). The most important
differences in couples are those between individuals. If individuals habit-
ually use different styles of communication then they will be pulled in
rather different directions when it comes to intimacy. Some individuals
are locked into competitiveness, status-mindedness and ‘independence’,
have poor listening skills and use conversations primarily to impart
information about themselves rather than to get closer to others. Such
people are concerned more with how systems work than with feelings
and are not equipped to deal with the subtleties and ambiguities of
‘good’ intimacy. On the other hand, some individuals may tend to focus
on connection, sharing and involvement with others – although they
may use systematising skills and strategies in other circumstances. Such
people are generally good, supportive listeners and encourage others to
open up emotionally. They are strong on empathy and rely heavily on
82 Intimacy and Power

‘indirectness’, particularly in the use of meta-messages. They tend to use

talk to establish and maintain rapport with others.
Tannen characterises these differences as a clash of conversational
styles while Baron-Cohen sees them as an expression of greater systema-
tising skills versus better empathic skills. It is important to appreciate
that such differences may cause intimacy problems and misunder-
standings between individuals. But both Tannen’s and Baron-Cohen’s
assumptions that these are expressions of essential or fundamental gen-
der differences has been strongly contested. Moreover, potential clashes
are not simply defined through differing styles or skills. Both Tannen
and Baron-Cohen overlook the effects of interpersonal control and influ-
ence – the different ways in which individuals (men and women) try to
get their intimacy needs satisfied through personal relationships.
In this respect benign control is more intimacy-friendly because it
trades on, and creates, closeness, connection and rapport, which, in
turn, rely on empathy and involvement. It is precisely because these
skills are also essential for mutually satisfying intimacy that we must
conclude that if partners approach one another in very different ways,
it is likely to lead to conflict or arguments and end in resentment and
frustration. The most successful couple intimacy will be in relationships
in which the partners use benign influence and control on a roughly
equal basis. As the theory of social domains bears out, individuals are
not gender stereotypes and should not be regarded as such. One of the
great dangers of thinking about ‘fundamental’ or ‘essential’ gender influ-
ences is that it can easily lead to the false assumption that all women
are inherently better at intimacy than men. Such assumptions ignore
the fact that all human beings are the product of diverse experiences
and influences, which result in unique mixtures of personal powers and
skills. Thus there are many individuals (including women) who are very
competitive and for whom status matters a great deal, while many oth-
ers (including men) who use benign control and influence and are good
at intimacy. Another possibility, perhaps more common than supposed,
is that there are partnerships in which individuals who are not at all
competitive about status are, nonetheless, not particularly good at inti-
macy. These people find it difficult to talk about their own or other’s
feelings.
In this sense it is important to distinguish between different aspects
of intimacy. To create good intimacy it helps if a person values con-
nection and involvement with others. But this in itself is not enough.
The same is true of empathy, which is perhaps even more important
for good intimacy. For good intimacy to thrive both partners must be
 Gender, Intimacy Styles and Skills 83

capable of communicating freely about one another’s deepest feelings.

Self-disclosure demands the ability to speak about things that may in
fact be difficult to address and which require some insight and sensitiv-
ity, not to say a great effort of will. But if the partners are not capable of
this – or one of them is not – then they will struggle to achieve full and
lasting intimacy.
6
Arguments, Indirectness
and Non-Disclosure

Following on from the idea that individuals’ personal styles and skills
affect the quality of intimacy, this chapter explores the possible impact
of such differences on the day-to-day experiences of couples as they
negotiate their intimacy needs with one another. It examines the
question of whether (and how) different conflict styles impact on
the quality of mutual self-disclosure between couples. As we have
already noted at a number of junctures, self-disclosure is at the heart
of modern intimacy – in the form of the pure relationship (Gid-
dens 1992, Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 1995). In particular the chapter
focuses on differences between direct and indirect styles of communica-
tion in individual partners and how this is reflected in their conflict
styles and arguments. Overall, it is suggested that an over-reliance
on indirectness in one or both partners can lead to the narrowing
down or even disappearance of self-disclosure between partners, which,
in turn, may lead to relationship problems with varying degrees of
seriousness.
As pointed out in previous chapters, individual partners often adopt
rather different strategies of control and influence when it comes to
obtaining their needs and desires. So although they may be agreed
that intimacy is ultimately about creating love, respect, personal sig-
nificance and so on, the partners may be far from harmonised when
it comes to the methods (of power, control and influence) they use to
achieve these ends. Does this mean that they are on a continual collision
course as far as expressing themselves and understanding one another’s
needs are concerned? Does it mean that many couples are doomed to
communication failure and an impoverishment of intimacy, care and
understanding? Are they destined to misunderstand and talk past one
another?

84
 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 85

Indirectness and emotion in intimacy

An important issue here is what is meant by indirectness when couples

communicate with one another. Cameron (2007: 84–9) has discussed
the question of directness in relation to gender. In this respect I agree
that there is little evidence to suggest that there are any large or fun-
damental differences between men and women in terms of their use of
indirectness, or in their responses to it. This is important for Cameron
who takes issue with claims that women tend to use indirectness more,
while men have greater difficulty in understanding indirect commu-
nication. Such issues take on monumental importance in the case of
rape trials where victims may be (falsely) thought to be both lacking
in assertiveness and being unclear that they are not consenting to sex.
This complicated issue raises a number of other questions that are not
relevant to the immediate discussion. What I would say is that ‘indirect-
ness’ in human communication is not simply linked to a single issue
or problem (like accusations of rape) nor associated with straightfor-
ward answers or ‘solutions’. It is not clear that Cameron acknowledges
that the question of indirectness is complex and multi-faceted. For
present purposes, while I agree that men neither use indirectness less,
nor are no more confused by it than women, I strongly disagree with
the implication that it is never the cause of confusion and miscom-
munication between couples. Whether or not indirectness is confusing
or leads to misunderstandings between intimate partners depends very
much on the exact context in which it occurs, as well as the emo-
tional content (and meaning) of the message or information being
conveyed.
Cameron discusses only four examples of indirectness. Three of them
are about mundane practical matters which Cameron herself regards as
‘petty’, while the other concerns the ‘just say no’ debate about rape and
sexual assault. The first three stem originally from Gray’s (1992) work in
which he gives the example of ‘the groceries are in the car’ as an indi-
rect request which really means ‘bring the groceries in’. A variant on this
would be saying ‘could you bring in the groceries’ or ‘could you empty
the trash’ (rather than the more direct ‘would you bring in the groceries’
or ‘would you empty the trash’). Cameron insists that these sorts of
requests are not really indirect or confusing. Depending on the context
(that is who is saying what to whom and in what circumstances), some
apparent misunderstandings are ‘tactical rather than real’ and that ‘pre-
tending not to understand what someone wants you to do is one way
to avoid doing it’ (2007: 89). Cameron may well be right in the case of
86 Intimacy and Power

examples like this which are ‘petty’ (as she describes them; ‘fairly incon-
sequential’ as I would characterise them). Far more is at stake (again as
she rightly notes, p. 89) with regard to the other example, of whether
women who are subject to sexual assault are being clear about their own
wishes.
There is, as Cameron acknowledges, a vast difference between these
examples in terms of their practical and emotional implications, but in
giving these extreme cases as her only examples of indirectness she over-
looks many ‘intermediate’ ones that play an important role in everyday
couple intimacy. The latter concerns issues that are not simply about
petty practical matters like emptying the trash, bringing in the gro-
ceries or even, fetching ketchup at family dinners (Cameron 2007: 88).
On the other hand, neither do they involve serious allegations about
criminal assault. First and foremost, the examples I refer to involve
matters of emotional import – coded messages about partners’ feelings
towards each other, the ‘state’ of their relationship, what they love and
cherish about their partner, what they wish they could change about
their partner, or their regrets about what cannot be changed in the
relationship. Such issues are the focus of continuous and routine negoti-
ations between partners, sometimes consciously and deliberately – and
thus directly. More often, however, they are unintentionally and indi-
rectly ‘negotiated’ through actions (gestures) or even, the way things
are talked about. That is, such matters are expressed in a verbally indi-
rect manner through meta-messages – the hidden messages encoded (or
encrypted) in words, actions or gestures – including things left unsaid.
It is these everyday, but non-trivial, kinds of indirectness that can
have a profound impact on couple intimacy because of the confusion,
misunderstandings and tensions that they may cause.
In this respect perhaps the main reason why partners misunderstand
one another has to do with the fact that they have different habitual
ways of expressing both their own feelings and desires, as well as con-
veying what they need from their partners. One person may prefer, or
rely on, ‘indirectness’ in communication, whereas the other might ‘tune
into’, and more readily respond to, directness. For instance, one partner
might say ‘do you want to go out tonight?’ even if it is they themselves
who really want this to happen but also want both of them to enjoy
the evening. In fact, it may be a coded way of saying ‘let’s do some-
thing together’. However, because one person is listening for a direct
message, the other partner may respond ‘no I don’t really feel like going
out’, thinking that it is a question about his or her inclinations or pref-
erences. Such a person may be completely unaware that, in fact, their
 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 87

partner was saying something about his or her own desire for them to
do something together. In the event, one person ends up feeling hurt
and irritated by the other’s rejection of the (indirect) request both for
attention and bonding and as a response to this ‘insensitivity’ may even
become difficult and argumentative. The other partner may respond to
such ‘crotchetiness’ by regarding it as ‘irrational’ moodiness. If the first
partner tries to clarify by saying ‘well really, I was saying I’d like us
to go out tonight – and asking you could we do that?’ the other may
well respond by saying ‘well why didn’t you say that, if that’s what you
meant?’ They may go on to think, ‘I can’t win here, he or she asks me
one question, but really means something quite different!’
Crucially, both partners feel misunderstood, hurt and disvalued in the
process. But this is not a ‘surface’ misunderstanding that can be recti-
fied by simply being clearer or by recasting the communication. The
problem lies much deeper than this and has to do with the use of differ-
ent styles and codes of communication. Indirectness trades on a more
social, communal style that draws in the other person in order to cre-
ate rapport or to bond with them. By contrast, directness focuses on
the individuality and distinctiveness of the messages being conveyed.
One focuses more on the importance of the relationship between those
who are communicating, while the other focuses on the informational
content of the message itself.
In this sense direct communication is less about establishing a connec-
tion with the other than with being specific and explicit about what is
being communicated. Directness in this sense is saying what you mean.
We cannot conclude from this that one form of communication (direct-
ness or indirectness) is ‘better’ than the other. Rather, it means that the
foci and priorities of the speakers are different – one being more con-
cerned with the quality and emotional status of a relationship, while
the other focuses on the message itself.

Using meta-messages

Being indirect relies on being able to ‘pick up’ on what is being said
without having to be explicit about it. In the same way, meta-messages
comment on the nature and quality of a relationship. In essence, a
meta-message is an un-verbalised ‘comment’ implicit in the message
that reveals how well or badly those involved are getting on with one
another (Tannen 1992). Strictly, meta-messages represent an added level
or layer of meaning compared with indirectness, pure and simple. In the
previous example in which one partner asks the other if he or she wants
88 Intimacy and Power

to go out, the problem for the ‘receiver’ of the message is figuring out
what is actually meant. Is it something other than it appears – is it being
suggested that they both go out, rather than if she or he wants to go
out? However, if we consider the meta-message level, there is a further
message in which the initiating partner conveys the hope that they can
spend more time together than they have of late. If the other responds
by saying ‘no I don’t feel like going out’, the meta-message sent back
is that he or she doesn’t really care about spending time together. Cru-
cially, at bottom, it means one partner doesn’t care enough about the
relationship – whether it gets better or worse. In this sense the other
doesn’t just simply ignore the first partner’s ‘indirect’ desire for them to
go out, but is also unable to hear the meta-message that suggests that
the relationship is a bit stale and that they both should be making an
effort to make the relationship more enjoyable.
In practice being indirect and using meta-messages often go together,
as in this example. However, they are distinct in a crucial respect.
Indirectness is about saying one thing but really meaning another so
the important issue for the ‘hearer’ is about correctly interpreting the
message. Being indirect involves a verbal message even though it is
ambiguous. With meta-messages, on the other hand, nothing is explic-
itly laid out in words. They must, therefore, be grasped intuitively
through a deep understanding of a person’s feelings or thoughts. Thus,
meta-messages are doubly ambiguous. Whereas indirect messages can
at least be checked against what is said, there is nothing to compare
or measure meta-messages against. Because the meaning is implicit and
un-stated, it requires intuitive, empathic understanding. You either get
it, and share its meaning with the other person, or you don’t. For meta-
messages to have any effect those involved must be able to ‘get’ the
message. If one person can’t do this then it may result in an almost per-
manent state of misunderstanding for both partners, as they continually
‘talk past’ one another.

Emotion and intimacy

One partner’s greater reliance on indirectness and meta-messages in

communication points to a real problem for intimacy. Both indirectness
and meta-messages are linked strongly with the expression of emotion.
In this respect they convey comments or requests about closeness. These
can be positive such as ‘we’re not close enough’, ‘let’s get closer’, ‘I love
you’ and so on, which celebrate the vibrancy of the bond. But they may
also express more negative emotions about the apparent deterioration of
 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 89

a bond such as ‘we don’t spend enough time doing things together’, or
‘you think more of your friends than me’. Those who are low on empa-
thy often employ another kind of ‘indirectness’. This manifests itself as
a refusal to disclose feelings – as in prolonged periods of silence, talking
about anything but feelings, emotional withdrawal and so forth. Being
indirect in this way is not linked with bonding and intimacy. Rather it
is about unexpressed anger, fear, pain, hostility, resentment and bitter-
ness. In a similar manner a preference for ‘direct’ facts or information
largely reflects a suppression of feelings.
This suggests that because such individuals don’t generally express
their emotions they may be less ‘in touch’ with feelings of close-
ness, tenderness, caring, vulnerability and so on. It does seem that
a preference for directness suggests a low level of emotional literacy
(Goleman 1996). Second, they will find it difficult to empathise with
the intimacy requests and needs of others, particularly their partners.
If one partner is a typical empathiser who relies on indirectness and
meta-messages, while the other is reliant on direct, information-based
communication and/or non-disclosure – they are on a collision course.
This is because their attempts at exchanging intimacies will be severely
hampered.

A closer look at the problem

Clearly, one conclusion that could be drawn from the above discussion
is that those who rely more on indirect communication are better at
expressing emotion and intimacy. The solution to the problem would
thus appear to be quite simple; that those indirect communicators most
affected need to be educated in the arts of intimacy and empathy
because they need to understand their own and their partner’s emo-
tional and intimacy needs. But would this solve the problem? The crux
of the issue is whether the assumption that indirectness is a better way
of expressing feelings really stands up. It may be true that a facility
for indirectness makes a person more ‘in touch’ with intimate matters,
but are they really ‘good communicators’ of emotion and intimacy? Is
their understanding of these issues superior? Is an upgrading of skills
all that is required to fill the intimacy vacuum? Would it eradicate
misunderstandings and miscommunications?
Indirectness and meta-messages of this type may be intimacy-friendly
but they are also inherently vague, opaque and ambiguous. Even when
such messages are detected in the first place, their meanings are not
straightforward because they can be interpreted in many different ways.
90 Intimacy and Power

There is no guarantee they will be ‘correctly’ understood – that is, as

the sender intended them to be understood. For those who already have
problems with intimacy, dealing with or responding to an intuitive and
ambiguous style makes their task doubly difficult. This is because even
if they learn to appreciate their partner’s efforts at communication, they
can only make an untutored guess at what they mean. Of course, it
is fairly easy to acquire a smattering of knowledge about non-verbal
gestures such as tone of voice, facial expression, eye contact, touch
and so on. In this sense a superficial understanding of another’s feel-
ings such as anger, distance, disapproval, irritation can be developed
in someone who lacks them. But a deeper understanding of some-
one’s feelings and thoughts requires explicit, verbal engagement. Thus,
talk and conversation are the means through which we tell, promise,
request, implore, flatter, tease and please a partner (Malone 1997) and
share all those things that are important to us emotionally. In short,
this is how we exchange intimacies and convey our needs to one
another.
We can only be absolutely sure that we understand someone’s inner-
most thoughts and feelings by talking and listening closely and sensi-
tively to them. Such things cannot be conveyed implicitly or intuitively.
We cannot simply ‘intuit’ what someone else wants. We may think we
can, or that we have a rough idea, but unless we check our precon-
ceptions against their actual, stated needs and wishes, we cannot be
sure. And this checking, as we know from experience, often reveals how
dreadfully amiss we can be.

The need for mutual readjustments

Intuitive knowledge is unreliable and, thus, inexact. It is surely imprac-

tical and unrealistic to expect it, on its own, to properly express emotion
and intimacy – even though it is frequently highly valued (ill-advisedly)
as a powerful emotional tool. Problems of uncertainty and unreliabil-
ity will arise even if both speakers continually rely on, and are at ease
using, intuition. There are bound to be times when its inexactness and
ambiguity prove to be impractical. The problem will be even more
acute if one person communicates with a partner who regards intu-
ition as completely alien and who habitually listens for, and responds
to, verbal directness. It might be better for those individuals who rely
almost entirely on indirectness to make more use of precise and explicit
language so that their messages are more easily decipherable.
 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 91

But being able to translate inchoate feelings into words is not easy.
And, although an individual may be more in touch with their emo-
tions, they may not necessarily be able to put feelings into words. Nor
might such a person be able to arrange feelings in comparative impor-
tance, and view them from a wider perspective. For example, someone
may feel ‘anger’ or ‘resentment’ towards a partner but be unaware that
this is because of a need for more space and/or to avoid a partner’s
attempts at ‘control’ (as in ‘manipulative’ or ‘oppressive’ intimacy). In
fact, one reason why such individuals use intuitive communication may
be that they are unsure of what their emotions ‘mean’. Their inability
to translate feelings into words prevents them from grasping their real
meaning. If this is so, then they also require an upgrading of intimacy
skills.
To avoid misunderstandings and/or talking ‘at cross purposes’, those
using different styles of communication must adjust to each other. On
the one hand, some individuals are chronically adrift from their own
and other’s inner lives and desperately need better intimacy skills if they
are to sustain relationships with partners who are skilled at intimacy.
They must learn to recognise their emotions and be able to articulate
them, in order to create a mutually satisfying dialogue with partners.
On the other hand, some individuals might have better relationships,
if they were more verbally direct. This is because, first, if their partners
already have few intimacy skills, then being more direct and explicit
would aid in conveying their emotions, wishes and desires. It would
reduce the amount of blind guesswork about feelings and emotions and
thus enhance the quality of their dialogue. Also, these people would
understand themselves better because their instinctive, intuitive emo-
tional experience would be enriched. Better self-knowledge would make
them better communicators of their own wishes and desires. In turn,
this would increase their chances of being understood and having their
own intimacy needs met.
To go back to a previous example, if a partner asks ‘do you feel like
going out for a walk?’ instead of saying ‘I want us both to spend some
time together’ – it is highly likely that the other partner will think they
are being asked solely about their personal preferences. By being more
direct about intuitive feelings and by saying what they really mean, it
is harder for the other to ignore, or simply remain unaware of his or
her feelings. The more discursive and articulate they are, the more they
will have a surer grasp of their own needs. The more explicit a person is,
the greater the likelihood that a partner will satisfy her or his intimacy
needs.
92 Intimacy and Power

Personal control and emotional blocking

If partners consistently misunderstand one another, then this may lead

to estrangement. Over time, good relationships can turn bad because
of long chains of misunderstanding creating resentment, frustration,
anger, disappointment or hurt. Such chains make it impossible for part-
ners to empathise and sympathise with each other causing emotional
blockage. But emotional blockage also stems from a felt lack of control
and influence over others – the ability to make them respond to one’s
own feelings. Constant misunderstandings mean that partners won’t
be able to influence one another and thus they will feel helpless and
impotent. Being unable to practically impact on a partner may easily
give rise to irritation, frustration and anger, blocking positive feelings
of love, empathy, rapport and care. Being able to influence, control
and impact on one another releases a flow of positive energies and
emotions.
This reverses ‘conventional wisdom’ that control only has a nega-
tive effect restricting the expression of intimacy. Such a view confuses
mutual control with domination – where one person has permanent
control and which is characterised by fear, terror, panic and hostility
(Layder 2004b). By contrast, mutual benign control is more balanced
and frees up the flow of positive emotional energies. However, when
one or both partners feel that they don’t have enough control and
influence in the relationship it can lead to frustration, disappointment,
disillusionment and a deteriorating or mutually unsatisfying bond.
This happens when a relationship drifts away from ‘dynamic’ intimacy
towards the ‘episodic’ and ‘semi-detached’ styles – perhaps even ending
up as pretence intimacy. Emotional dissatisfaction (for one or both part-
ners) and the failure to rectify it through discussions or arguments often
result in a sense of impotence, of being unable to effectively influence
the relationship. Partners emotionally withdraw from each other – per-
haps over an extended period of time (Miller 1995, Perel 2007). They
no longer mention certain things or raise problems because they feel it’s
not worth the effort.

Arguments, conflict and intimacy

As noted in Chapter 3, all humans have intimacy needs such as to

be valued, cherished, respected, loved and so on (Maslow 1999, Bran-
den 1985). In a balanced relationship these needs are satisfied through
loving gifts, which continually recharge the bond. Of course, even in
 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 93

stable relationships partner’s moods and feelings are occasionally dis-

rupted by feelings of frustration. But by trying to get their partner to
respond to unmet needs, arguments, spats, disagreements and all man-
ner of resentments and insecurities may surface. Where mutual needs
remain unsatisfied, ignored, or even actively denied, anger and/or fear
is magnified. Sometimes partners continually bicker, argue and snipe
at each other (Pease and Pease 2002, Miller 1995) while their relation-
ship steadily corrodes. In dynamic intimacy arguments help to smooth
out the inevitable rough patches that arise from time to time by pro-
viding answers to problems. But in many relationships arguments do
not offer solutions to partnership problems; they simply become an
accepted ‘way of relating’ to one another.

Direct conflict styles

No matter how harmonious and well-matched partners might seem,

from time to time they will disagree. The crucial issue is how well
they can deal with or resolve such problems. If both are good at deal-
ing with conflicts and disagreements then the after effects will not
linger long. If partners can’t do this, conflicts may remain unresolved
and cause further problems. Susan Quilliam (2001) has usefully dis-
tinguished between ‘conflict styles’ in personal relationships. Although
everyone may potentially use these conflict styles, I suggest that those
individuals who tend to rely on indirectness either by not saying what
they really mean or by relying on meta-messages will tend to favour
what Quilliam calls ‘appeasement’ and ‘low-level attack’. In contrast,
those who are more direct and rely on information rather than feelings
will favour ‘high-level attacks’ and ‘retreat’ as conflict styles.
Those individuals who are brought up to be active and show anger will
often favour high-level attacks (Quilliam 2001: 70). Such a person might
regale their partner with criticisms, shout, have temper tantrums, and
even use verbal (and sometimes physical) violence. He or she may say
things like ‘how dare you, how can you, I hate you, don’t do that’. Such
anger stems from fear (about rejection, abandonment, being criticised
and so on), and is based on insecurity; thus, unfortunately, the high-
level attack does nothing to solve these issues. Rather, it assumes that
fighting is the best way to obtain ‘individual rights’. High-level attackers
view themselves as pitted against a hostile world of competitors (in this
case her or his partner). But the high-level attack doesn’t draw the other
person in, it is an expression of anger and fear, rather than an exchange
of feelings or a frank airing of needs.
94 Intimacy and Power

Thus although erupting with anger may be a relatively safe and even
‘useful’ way of releasing tension, in the long term it does nothing to
ease or solve relationship problems. First, as Quilliam notes, ‘it puts
your partner on the defensive and by hurting him or her makes retalia-
tion more likely. And if your partner does retaliate, your emotions flare
up again and lead you to strike back in turn. No chance of a peaceful
settlement’ (2001: 71). Perhaps more importantly, there is no chance
of meaningful dialogue about the very issues causing the conflict in
the first place. If a partner using this conflict style is matched against
another who is more empathic and indirect then the scene is set for a
never-ending war arising from a lack of genuine communication.
Another conflict style is ‘retreat’ in which an individual denies their
own and others’ feelings because they create pressure and pain. He or
she withdraws, puts up a wall of silence, avoids interaction and refuses
to admit there is a problem or may even just walk out. It is an attempt
to avoid the discomfort of anger and fear by not expressing them and
is even less helpful than high-level attacks. Avoiding or denying emo-
tions is simply pretending the very problems that are causing pain don’t
exist. But denial and retreat also arise because the individual doesn’t
understand his or her emotional needs, fears and insecurities.
Of course, leaving the room might be a useful way of calming down
if someone is on the point of explosive anger. It provides important
‘time out’ to collect thoughts and recompose oneself. However, in the
long term retreating doesn’t help because the other person is excluded
and none of the problems are resolved – thus the relationship remains
fragile. The only way for the bond to survive (probably as ‘episodic’
intimacy) would be for the person to learn how to handle the feelings
that can no longer be kept under wraps (2001: 71). Clearly, a man or
woman who regularly retreats is shutting off from his or her feelings
and emotional needs and creating a void at the heart of the relationship
(as in ‘semi-detached’ and ‘pretence’ intimacy). The bond will not sur-
vive unless both partners make a determined effort to understand and
readjust to one another.

Indirect conflict styles

‘Appeasement’ is another conflict style. When disagreements occur the

appeaser gives in and might start apologising, agreeing or letting a part-
ner use them as a doormat. The appeaser is trapped in fear of rejection
and doesn’t feel worthy enough to assert his or her own needs and
desires. Backing off from disagreement and conflict (and thus denying
 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 95

their own feelings) seems to offer the safest solution while preserving
the relationship intact. An appeaser may think ‘if I give in (he or she)
will love me for it. If I argue and make it difficult they will leave’. As
Quilliam observes, appeasing a partner will keep the peace, but because
this is achieved at the expense of one’s own needs it will have one of
two consequences over the longer term. Suppressed anger may store up
and erupt into worse anger at some future date ensuring further trouble
down the line. On the other hand, the appeaser may remain the victim
of their own fear, which, in the end, paralyses the ability to be assertive
about their own needs and feelings. In time this may transform into
hopelessness and despair, depression or physical illness.
Unlike ‘retreat’, ‘appeasement’ does not indicate that a person doesn’t
know his or her own feelings, or what he or she needs from a partner.
But fearing rejection the individual suppresses her or his own needs in
order to keep a partner ‘sweet’ (typical in ‘episodic’ and ‘semi-detached’
intimacy). The appeaser hopes that unmet needs will (eventually) be
met when his or her partner finally figures out what they are – even
though these needs are not directly expressed. Such hopes are in vain if
he or she is dealing with a partner who only responds to direct, factually
based messages. Such a partner doesn’t pick up unexpressed resentment
about not being properly listened to, or cared about.
Another typically indirect approach to conflict is the ‘low-level
attack’. This includes nagging, whingeing (complaining), being con-
temptuous (Pease and Pease 2002) and emotional blackmail (Forward
and Frazier 1998). These strategies are fraught with the same sort of diffi-
culties as appeasement – as well as some additional ones. In a sense those
who nag, whinge or use emotional blackmail make a definite attempt to
get what they want. But instead of asking upfront, they make ‘demands’
in an unclear and ambiguous way. Also, the fact that these strategies are
indirect and ‘behind the scenes’ makes them inherently mischievous,
and harmful for intimacy. In the final analysis such styles are ‘selfish’ in
that they are exclusively about the perpetrator’s demands and interests.
There is no genuine empathy or rapport since they aren’t agreed upon
or shared.
Nagging involves rather feeble, indirect requests that are heavily guilt-
laden such as ‘I don’t ask you to do much around here’ or ‘You never
take the garbage out’, ‘Why don’t you pick up your clothes?’, ‘I spend
my weekend working my fingers to the bone to make this place look nice
while you just sit there all day watching television’. As Alan and Barbara
Pease (2002) point out, ‘this kind of nagging is pointless, self-defeating
and creates a lose/lose situation. With this approach, nagging becomes a
96 Intimacy and Power

corrosive habit that causes great distress, disharmony, resentment, anger

and may easily end with a violent reaction.’ The stereotypical nagger
feels powerless in life and unable to change her or his life in a direct
manner– they are frustrated and stuck.
Like many problems in relationships (such as infidelity, verbal or
physical abuse, depression and boredom) nagging results from bad com-
munication or, more accurately, non-communication. One part of the
problem is that the nagger doesn’t directly express what is behind her or
his dissatisfaction and instead focuses on a series of seemingly trivial and
unconnected issues. However, sensing hostility behind the nagging, the
one who is nagged becomes defensive and pulls away. As a result, com-
munication fails and the situation remains unresolved. If a partner nags
at someone who is bad at empathy and expressing feelings, the scene is
set for a long chain of miscommunications and the stored up problems
they contain. Whatever message she or he is repeatedly attempting to
get across isn’t recognised. One partner just thinks the other is a nag.
The ‘hidden’ message is not heard and cannot be responded to appro-
priately. Neither partner understands the other or expresses how they
really feel.
‘Emotional blackmail’ as a conflict style also tends to be indirect. Emo-
tional blackmailers tend to be peacekeepers and shy away from saying
what they want for fear of being disliked or rejected. An emotional
blackmailer finds a way around the risk of being rejected by asking
directly for what she or he wants, and by being careful, deceptive and
cloaking her or his intentions. The blackmailer aims to obtain another’s
compliance by the actual or threatened withdrawal of emotional sup-
port (Forward and Frazier 1998, Layder 2004b). By manipulating the
victim’s emotional weaknesses and making him or her feel guilty, the
blackmailer forces them to fit in with his or her personal wishes. Accu-
sations such as ‘After all I’ve done for you’, ‘I can’t believe you’re being
so selfish about this’, ‘You’ll make me ill if you carry on acting this way’,
‘I’ve always looked after you, you can’t treat me like this’ are all designed
to harness the victim’s fears, secrets and vulnerabilities and manipulate
them for personal gain. But this is all covert – the blackmailer will pre-
tend that she or he is, in fact, the one who is doing favours whilst behind
the scenes they are plotting to undermine the victim. The selective use
of silence and ‘cutting off’ provides the victim with a bitter taste of what
it would be like to have the blackmailer’s love, approval and support
permanently withdrawn. The blackmailer might seem affable and sup-
portive but all the time is working secretly to obtain what he or she
wants.
 Arguments, Indirectness and Non-Disclosure 97

In a sense emotional blackmail is distinguishable from other indirect

conflict styles. The victim must have enough self-awareness to become
caught in the trap of guilt laid by the perpetrator. Emotional blackmail
can only be effective if the target is fully connected with his or her emo-
tions in the first place. An individual who is low in empathy is unlikely
to be susceptible to emotional manipulation (by a blackmailer) if they
are already largely adrift from, or at least uncomfortable about, talking
about feelings.

Intimacy and arguments

It would seem that arguments are a common feature of all forms of inti-
macy – both satisfying and unsatisfying. But are arguments a natural,
or even ‘necessary’, part of an intimate relationship? Or is it possible
to have an argument-free relationship? This would depend first on the
‘compatibility’ or otherwise of the partners and their style of intimacy.
Thus win-win style arguments – in which partners acknowledge and
listen to one another’s needs and talk flexibly about solutions – are a fea-
ture of ‘dynamic’ intimacy. By contrast, with ‘episodic’, ‘semi-detached’
and ‘pretence’ intimacy, the majority, or even all arguments, may be
by-passed in order to avoid the intensity of feeling they generate. Both
partners may decide that they prefer not to engage in verbal conflict
because of the tensions and anxiety it causes. As a consequence they are
prepared to accept compromises as far as they are possible.
7
Personal Strategies and Repertoires

According to the theory of social domains, differing psychobiographical

experiences and involvements in social life are expressed in an indi-
vidual’s unique personal characteristics and subjective dispositions
(attitudes, feelings, ways of doing things). Along with the combined
influence of other domains (see Chapters 5 and 12), these differences
play an important role in conditioning and reshaping the influences of
structural or group factors (like gender, class and ethnicity) on the social
behaviour of individuals. Thus, for example, the question of the effects
of gender or class on an individual’s attitudes, feelings and responses to
intimacy is frequently less pivotal than examining the kind or style of
upbringing he or she has had, and what intimacy strategies have been
most useful during the process. In like fashion the interpersonal domain
(what I call ‘situated activity’) is also an important conditioning influ-
ence on intimate relationships. This is because intimacy involves some
of the basic interpersonal skills required to handle everyday situations.
Thus individual strategies are often chosen or modified in relation to
their appropriateness in given situations, and not simply ‘assigned’ as a
consequence of structural or group factors like gender, class or ethnicity
(Malone 1997).
Because of crucial pyschobiographical differences, each of us has our
favourite ways of ‘doing’ or ‘performing’ intimacy. Just as we all have
a unique personal style of facial expressions and behaviour, so too we
have our favourite intimacy strategies. But the strategies themselves are
potentially available to everyone. What makes us distinctive as individ-
uals is how we combine these strategies into a ‘performance’ style that
has our personal stamp. This links with a basic theme of this book –
that we benignly influence (and thus control) others so as to further our
own desires and purposes (while others do the same with us). But by

98
 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 99

settling on strategies that suit our own purposes, we also help or hinder
others in pursuing their desires and interests. This makes the distinction
between benign influence and self-interest unclear. The crucial issue is
about how much we help or hinder others, because no matter how well
intentioned we are, our behaviour will always be in part selfish when-
ever we tend to focus on our own satisfaction. In this respect strategies
and repertoires may be distinguished in terms of whether they are based
on benign persuasion and ‘soft’ manipulation, or on self-interest and
exploitation.

Strategies based on benign persuasion and soft

manipulation

Creating supporting roles

One way of making someone more willing to see your point of view is to
offer them a role that supports your own (Weinstein and Deutschberger
1963). This is best achieved by saying things like ‘as you and I both
know . . .’, or ‘we are so much alike in that respect’ which helps establish
a common bond and makes the other believe that they share your aims
and desires (Malone 1997). Couples say things like ‘we think alike’ or ‘we
always seem to know what the other is thinking’ and, in so doing, create
roles for their partners that are difficult to refuse. A person will tend to
go along with someone who does this in order to avoid confrontation
or unnecessary fuss. But it can also make someone feel as though they
aren’t really in control of the situation and are being swept along with
the other’s agenda.
Good examples of this often occur when couples talk to ‘outsiders’.
One partner might say ‘we don’t go out very often, we like to keep our-
selves to ourselves’ or ‘neither of us is particularly domestic, we prefer to
eat out’ or ‘we tend to agree on most things’. In such cases it is difficult
for the other partner to break into the flow and express disagreement
or just a more individual opinion. It might seem easier to accept the
role (image or identity) that has been ‘offered’ than to risk being seen as
either ‘difficult’ or as a couple who ‘washes their dirty linen in public’.
Of course, partners are sometimes willingly swept along in this manner
because they genuinely feel in touch with each other’s thoughts and
emotions to such an extent that they regard themselves more as a unit
than as separate people (Miller 1995, Perel 2007). Hence willing accep-
tance becomes an expression of their intimacy. For them showing unity
and closeness is more important than expressing individual differences.
100 Intimacy and Power

However, if intimacy becomes less intense (as in the ‘episodic’ or

‘semi-detached’ styles) partners will express their differences even more.
This is often because they resent being ‘manipulated’ into accepting
their partner’s views of them. Examples of such manipulation can be
seen in comments like ‘darling, you know you always get upset when
you think about work issues’, or ‘you are a martyr to yourself when it
comes to forgiving your “ex” (wife or husband)’ or ‘why don’t you stand
up for what you know you deserve’. Of course, both may be keen (and
able) to manipulate each other, especially in ‘oppressive’ or ‘pretence’
intimacy where negative feelings are covered over by pseudo-closeness.

Personal magnetism
Being ‘cute’, sexually desirable or beautiful are powerful attractors that
may kick start intimacy by providing an initial spark of interest. But
usually, initial magnetism is not enough to sustain intimacy over longer
periods of time. For this to happen other factors are required. For exam-
ple, sexual attractiveness might not last longer than an immediate
sexual frisson. Staying together may require an extra serving of sensi-
tivity and empathy. Similarly, friends may be initially drawn together
because they both like to look ‘cool’, ‘hard’, ‘demure’ or ‘exciting’. But if
they are to remain friends they must also prove their trustworthiness
and dependability. The magnetism of physical attractiveness is pow-
erfully enhanced when it is combined with other things like charm,
charisma and confidence. ‘Charismatic’ figures (Weber 1964) such as
those who are, or become, leaders (both good and evil, like Christ or
Hitler) or celebrities attract crowds of followers or acolytes. But each one
of us, in our own small way, will usually have some ‘trait’ or skill that
can be used to influence others – such as charm, or being good at chat-
ting. Using our most attractive and persuasive features helps energise
intimate bonds.
In ‘dynamic’ intimacy both partners lead with their best ‘sides’ so that
the relationship remains fresh and positively charged. Magnetic appeal
is used playfully to invite an equally playful response. But attractors can
also be used in a self-serving way to gain the upper hand in a relation-
ship. For instance, charm can be used alongside emotional blackmail or
even intimidation (Horley 2000). Conversely, an apparently submissive
partner might use their vulnerability and helplessness to wrest control
away from a dominant partner. In a similar way the appeal of per-
sonal magnetism may change over time. What was once thought of
as irresistible charm, or beauty, in a loved one may eventually become
 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 101

irritating or embarrassing, blocking communication and corroding inti-

macy. This is common in episodic and semi-detached intimacy where
the partners are emotionally adrift.

Magnetic seduction
Once personal magnetism is combined with more persuasive skills, it
becomes powerfully seductive. Although ‘seduction’ is most commonly
linked with sexual conquest, more generally it connotes the way in
which individuals entice, beguile or lure others to go along with their
wishes and intentions. In magnetic seduction partners may use personal
attractors like charm, or physical attributes such as hypnotic eyes, sex-
ual allure and so forth, along with persuasive ploys like teasing, flattery,
humour and promises in order to satisfy their own and their partner’s
desires. In this sense magnetic seduction can play a role in both benign
and more manipulative relationships.

Persuasive seduction
This kind of seduction relies on the sheer power of persuasion (Borg
2004) and frequently occurs in romantic partnerships. Persuasive seduc-
tion can occur in many ways – through conversation, ‘heart to hearts’,
hinting, innuendo, ‘helpful’ suggestions, disguised ‘advice’, special
pleading, imploring, begging, promising, arguing, allaying fears and so
on. Examples of this are persuading a partner to do, or agree to, various
things – such as to spend more time together, to go to a particular hol-
iday destination, to be more sexually demonstrative, to visit relatives
less, or even more commonly, to change particular habits, to be more
attentive to the children, to have or not to have children. The same is
true of friendships. Efforts to get friends to share a holiday, to go out
more or less often, to talk about intimate issues, to share leisure activi-
ties, to give up or acquire habits like smoking or drug taking, to decide
what to do about the plight of a mutual friend, to be supportive and
caring, and so on, are the routine stock in trade of friendships. They are
typical issues around which friends negotiate their mutual needs and
desires. As such persuasive seduction follows the mutual give and take
of control and influence, keeping intimacy alive and dynamic.
Of course, persuasive seduction could be used to manipulate or dom-
inate. But sometimes, unequal power is healthy and necessary. For
instance, good parenting depends on controlling and influencing chil-
dren in their ‘best interests’ and with genuine loving concern. Thus
a parent might convince their child that they should visit an elderly
102 Intimacy and Power

grandparent even if they don’t want to (Bernstein 1972). Another exam-

ple, this time, of what I call ‘open-ended’ or ‘suggestive control’, is
convincing an elderly parent that it is in his or her best interests to
move to a safer neighbourhood, despite their misgivings about so doing
(Layder 2004b).

The seduction of the gift

Seduction sometimes involves exchanging gifts. Presents like flowers,
jewellery and so on are often used, but far more significant are emo-
tional gifts conveying messages of trust such as caring concern, loving
gestures, compliments, support, companionship, flattery, gentle teasing.
To be properly effective the recipient must respond appropriately as
when a compliment is immediately returned, or a humorous remark
is followed by an equally light-hearted response, or when a sympa-
thetic ear is offered to someone else’s problems. Gift exchanges like this
re-energise bonds by stimulating acceptance or love and boosting self-
confidence and self-esteem (Collins 2005). Gift seduction only energises
relationships in which there is already mutual care and trust. Indeed, it
signifies the presence of mutually satisfying, ‘dynamic’ intimacy. How-
ever, some gift giving can be used in a mischievous and manipulative
manner to create obligations in a partner. For example, a person may
use love, support, sex and so on in order to buy favour with her or his
partner, or to compensate for a mistake, a failing or an accident. Often,
such instances of pseudo gift giving occur where there is emotional drift
between partners, as in episodic or semi-detached intimacy.

Deep knowledge seduction

This trades on the benign use of intimate knowledge of partner’s emo-
tional strengths and weaknesses, their flaws and vulnerabilities, to
support the emotional needs of both partners (and others who may be
affected). This kind of deep personal knowledge of a partner is built on a
history of shared experience and feelings. Partners must be able to open
up emotionally and trust each other not to use such intimate knowledge
to gain unfair advantage. Such high quality intimacy does not fol-
low from one-night stands, brief encounters in cafes, gyms, planes and
trains. Rather it results from lasting bonds in which the partners gradu-
ally reveal their inner selves over the course of time. Empathy, rapport
and emotional intelligence (Goleman 1996) are essential for this kind
of intimacy. Partners must be able to read others’ emotions and non-
verbal signals such as tone of voice, facial expression, bodily posture,
 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 103

eye contact and so on. Being able to articulate feelings and choosing the
‘right’ way of expressing intent and desire are also crucial to the success
of deep knowledge seduction. This is because it requires the interweav-
ing of both partners’ desires and intentions creating psychic support for
one another.

Enrolment and people management

While partners are largely unaware of the mutually seductive ploys they
use, enrolment and people management are much more deliberate.
They are designed to encourage shared understanding and agreement
(and also observed in jobs that require ‘emotional labour’; Hochschild
1983). Intimacy amongst friends or romantic partners in particular
requires the ability to identify one’s own and other’s emotions and to
pick up meta-messages (see Chapters 5 and 6). Also crucial are appro-
priate listening skills such as leaving adequate ‘talk space’ in which
a partner can ‘open-up’ emotionally. Ironically, appropriate listening
skills also include asking sensitive but probing questions when a part-
ner is confused or reluctant to express their feelings. In some respects
these skills mirror those of seduction but there are crucial differences.
Benign seduction involves full emotional commitment, whereas in
enrolment the emotional bond is much less pronounced. As a result it
is frequently found in the ‘episodic’ and ‘semi-detached’ styles where
sincerity and trust are also reduced. The most extreme examples of
this strategy are found in ‘pretence’, ‘manipulative’ and ‘oppressive’
intimacy.

Deals and pacts

People are either willingly drawn into the game of seduction – or, flatly
refuse to play – on the basis of shared, but fuzzy, emotional under-
standings. Deals and pacts, on the other hand, are based on explicit
agreements of the kind; ‘if I do this for you, then you must do that for
me’. They are clear agreements about responsibilities and the rewards
that follow from sticking to them. Positive pacts are based on shared
understandings that support partners emotionally. For example, who
does what and when in terms of house work, childminding, leisure
pursuits and socialising. But they may also involve more complex agree-
ments, say, about appropriate ways of dealing with children (being
liberal or authoritarian) in order to avoid sending out mixed messages.
Partners may agree not to undermine one another in public, or to
present a united front when dealing with children, or in-laws. They may
104 Intimacy and Power

even arrive at ‘working arrangements’ about when and how they will
make love.
These are ‘positive’ deals and pacts in that they only work if the
partners desire the same thing. They don’t work if they suit only one
partner. When a pact has developed over time in a way that supports the
partners’ security and self-esteem, it has an energising effect on the rela-
tionship. Negative pacts, on the other hand, may still be ‘supportive’ but
only in the sense of ‘propping up’ partners’ failings. For example, one
partner may turn a blind eye to the other’s infidelities because they don’t
feel strong enough to challenge the situation. Alternatively, they may
ignore infidelities because they receive material security or psychic sup-
port from being ‘known as a couple’ and having powerful connections.
(The high profile cases of Jeffrey and Mary Archer in the UK and Bill and
Hilary Clinton in the USA are good examples of such relationships.) In a
sense such partnerships are based largely on mutual ‘convenience’ with
both partners getting something out of the deal, but, of course, as forms
of intimacy they are deeply flawed.

Emotion work
In ‘dynamic’ intimacy partners share responsibility for creating and
recreating the emotional heart of their relationship. They take equal
turns in caring and loving, making physical and sexual contact, talk-
ing about feelings, commitment and about how they can change things
for the better. This is the routine ‘emotion work’ necessary for a relation-
ship to keep ticking over properly. Many intimate relationships slowly
(or rapidly) fall apart precisely because one or both partners fail to realise
the need for constant emotion work. Relationships and individuals are
always changing and developing, requiring the renewal of emotional
commitments and responsibilities. Without a balance in emotion work
the relationship itself will not be refreshed or recharged. Even if part-
ners are not particularly good at it, their willingness to learn is essential.
The slightest backing away from emotion work can wreck the fragile
balance on which good intimacy rests. Emotional withdrawal by one
partner may precipitate a similar move by the other who may resent
being left with the main responsibility for emotion work. This more
or less describes what happens when ‘dynamic’ intimacy gives way to
‘episodic’ or even ‘semi-detached’ forms.
A number of possible reasons may account for one partner assuming
total responsibility for emotion work. The other partner may lack skills
or fail to understand the importance of emotion work. Alternatively,
 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 105

one person may shirk responsibility especially if the other seems willing
to shoulder the main burden. The one who takes responsibility, in fact,
may not be aware of it until it suddenly occurs to them that their part-
ner never talks about feelings or the future of their relationship. Finally,
someone who carries the emotional load in a relationship may do so
out of insecurity. By immersing themselves in emotion work they gain
a sense of control, which, to an extent, allays their fears that the rela-
tionship might fall apart if they don’t take on the whole burden. But, of
course, by monopolising emotion work they leave little room for their
partner to join in.
Once the responsibility for emotion work is out of kilter a relation-
ship becomes increasingly unsatisfying for one or both partners. If one
person either takes all or refuses to take any responsibility for emo-
tion work, then the other may eventually begin to resent it and enter
into a ‘battle for control’ (Miller 1995). If both partners are happy with
an imbalance in emotion work, it is usually because this conveniently
covers over their mutual failings. This happens in ‘oppressive’ inti-
macy where partners’ co-dependence results from their personal flaws or
weaknesses. In such cases partners manipulate each other and preserve
themselves through a symbiotic relationship. This signals a shift from
‘softer’, to more selfish manipulation – where identities are undermined
and energy dissipates from the bond.

Strategies based on self-interest, manipulation

and exploitation

Emotional rescue
A person may give herself or himself emotionally without realising that
their partner isn’t willing to do the same. But instead of giving up on
the relationship, they decide to forge ahead in the hope that they can
‘change’ or repair the flaws in the partner. Any inadequacy, such as an
over controlling or critical nature, chronic insecurity, social anxiety, an
unpredictable temper, can become a ‘project’ for transformation. How-
ever, if the flawed partner doesn’t want to change, the relationship itself
will come under threat. Another problem is that the ‘rescuer’ bases their
liking and attraction for the inadequate partner not on what they ‘are’
but what they are capable of becoming. They fall in love with the idea
of changing him or her into their ‘ideal’, rather than accepting them
for what they are. They may even settle for a partner who doesn’t love
106 Intimacy and Power

them or treats them badly because they believe that they can eventually
change them.
Emotional rescuers sometimes seek to rescue obviously ‘helpless’ part-
ners and, by so doing, convince themselves of their own compassionate
and loving nature. In this sense the ‘rescuer’ may be as inadequate as the
person they are rescuing and, as a consequence, they ‘negatively’ sup-
port each other. Of course, unless the flawed partner is actively willing
to change, the rescuer must resort to various self-deceptions. Thus they
try to convince themselves that they just need a little more time, or that
(unlike his or her previous partners) ‘you’ (the rescuer) will be the one
who ‘loves them enough to change them’ or that you are the only one
who really understands the ‘real’ them (De Angelis 1992). Both the res-
cuer and the rescued deceive themselves by imaging that intimacy can
be sustained in this manner. At best, it may provide negative support; at
worst, it may deteriorate into manipulation or dependence. It has been
suggested that women use this strategy to rescue ‘bad’ men (De Angelis
1992). This indeed is a familiar story linked with women abuse (Horley
2000), but there are many men who also attempt to rescue women who
are inadequate in some way.

Creating dependency
Based as it is on fear of abandonment, the point of this strategy is to
make a partner so dependent that they would never consider leaving
the relationship. While the stronger partner adopts the role of ‘compe-
tent adult’ the other is cast in the role of ‘dependent child’ who ‘ought
to be’ submissive and allow the other to take the main responsibility.
By constantly hearing the message that he or she is essentially a vulner-
able, fragile person, they do indeed become helpless and dependent.
The stronger partner takes them under their wing, so to speak, and
‘makes the world safe’ for them. The more they are defined as depen-
dent, the more convinced that they indeed are, while the competence
and strength of the other is reinforced.
When men do this to women they usually take on the role of father
figure or protector. But this is not simply about caring and protecting
someone who is vulnerable. The point is also to keep his partner in her
place by reminding her that she cannot do without his help in find-
ing her way through the world. He always knows more and therefore
‘knows best’. He may regard her as ‘irrational’ or ‘emotional’, incapable
of dealing with the hard realities of life. If he can convince her that
she is indeed better off by bowing to his ‘superiority’ then she will
 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 107

become dependent. Ultimately of course, much rests on her willingness

or refusal to accept (even ‘exploit’) this position.
By contrast, women who use this strategy on men typically adopt the
role of mother or carer. She will try to make herself indispensable – and
hence create dependency – by mothering him. She may attempt to run
his life, doing things for him, reminding him of what he should be
doing, talking in baby talk, scolding, making his favourite food, tidy-
ing his possessions and generally taking charge where she thinks he
is incompetent. A woman might do this in order to make the man so
reliant and dependent that he would never consider breaking up and
so remove any insecurities or fears she might have about abandonment.
At the same time she obtains more attention, affection and intimacy.
However, this might have the inadvertent effect of eroding the man’s
self-esteem, which, in turn, will undermine his ability to give love. He
may also resent being smothered and stifled and hence resist or rebel
against her (De Angelis 1992).

Relinquishing power
On the face of it this would seem an odd strategy. It is an attempt to
acquire rather meagre and seemingly negative ‘advantages’ by giving
away power. If someone fears their partner’s criticisms or disapproval,
they may tolerate lack of respect or mistreatment. The unacceptable
behaviour is more bearable than the rejection. People who are guilt-
ridden or low on self-esteem do this when they allow their partner’s
wants, desires and general life agenda to snuff out the importance of
their own needs and desires. They will often give up their interests,
ambitions, hobbies, friends or family members in order to avoid con-
flict with a partner who doesn’t approve of them. The disapproval is
driven by insecurity and a need to cut a partner off from previous psy-
chic support since it threatens their own control over the relationship
(Horley 2000).
An individual may give away power by trying to become the kind of
person their partner ideally wants. Such a person tries to adapt their per-
sonality and behaviour so that they fit in with a partner’s expectations
and desires. But by trying to become their ideal person important parts
of self-identity are sacrificed. Finally, a person may relinquish power
by giving up on his or her own hopes, desires and dreams in order
to help a partner’s come to fruition. Giving up jobs, or moving to a
different country, relinquishing ambitions are all ways of giving away
power in a relationship (although they may also be part of an agreed
108 Intimacy and Power

deal or pact). De Angelis (1992: 51) suggests that some women cover
up their excellence and competence ‘in order to avoid threatening the
man in their life’ and ‘to make him feel better about himself’. Many
such women hide their talents and accomplishments from the men in
their lives or they talk about themselves in derogatory terms, put them-
selves down, or refuse to ‘take’ compliments in order that the man can
feel more ‘in charge’. By so doing, these women believe that men will
love them more. However, as Angelis points out, this belief is illusory
because most men believe ‘that a woman who exudes self-confidence is
very appealing’ (1992: 56).

Psychological attrition
Psychological attrition occurs when intimacy is at its lowest ebb. It
involves wearing a partner down as if he or she was an opponent
in a war game. The strategy includes criticism, whingeing and nag-
ging, which makes the target feel as though they are constantly being
interrogated. They must justify and account for everything they do
and say. This slowly undermines their defences and so eventually they
cave in to the partner’s demands. A person who uses this strategy is
insecure about his or her tenuous hold on power and their inabil-
ity to use benign control effectively. But it does not rely on actual or
threatened violence – it is a strategy of last resort borne out of desper-
ation. It is the preferred choice of someone who feels powerless and
helpless – who manifestly isn’t good at benign control and influence.
Nagging and whingeing are conflict styles more typically associated
with individuals who rely on indirect forms of communication, often
alongside emotional manipulation or emotional blackmail. A person
who routinely employs psychological attrition is socially ineffectual and
profoundly lacking in the skills normally used to influence and control
others.

Phoney seduction
This is a manipulative version of seduction. The victim is drawn in
by the ‘promise’ that their love, care or attention will be returned in
kind. But the phoney seducer is only concerned with getting her or
his way. Phoney seduction encompasses a wide range of behaviours.
At one extreme there is sexual seduction as ‘conquest’ in which the
seducer moves on to another potential ‘victim’ as soon as sexual grat-
ification has been achieved. Of course, if both partners are fully aware
and accept this in the first place, then there is no deception involved.
 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 109

However, if one person thinks that a ‘serious’ bond is being initiated,

or if the seducer is ‘economical with the truth’ about her or his inten-
tions, then it is phoney seduction. This is typical of the ‘Casanova’ or
‘womanising’ syndrome in men (Giddens 1992), although in the mod-
ern era a significant number of women also practise sexual conquest and
predation.
At the other end of the scale, phoney seduction can be used to manip-
ulate a partner in an established relationship. This is reflected in the
habit of some women who ‘act like little girls to get what they want
from men’ (De Angelis 1992: 68–72). A woman might feign naivety or
ignorance so that her man feels smart, or she might pretend to be con-
fused so that she doesn’t have to make decisions or take responsibility
for her life. These and other ploys – like treating men like daddy and
wanting him to rescue her – involve a good measure of self-deception as
well as wilful manipulation.

Emotional blackmail
Milder forms of manipulation are commonplace in everyday life. For
example, sexual intimacy can be offered to make a partner suppress their
anger when you admit you’ve crashed the car, or forgotten to pass on an
important message. These are part of the give and take of close relation-
ships and are present in even the most satisfying intimacy. Emotional
blackmail, on the other hand, clearly goes beyond ordinary manipula-
tion ‘when it is used repeatedly to coerce us into complying with the
blackmailer’s demands at the expense of your own wishes and well-
being’ (Forward and Frazier 1998). An emotional blackmailer is someone
close, who threatens – either directly or indirectly – to punish us if we
don’t do what she or he wants. Because many blackmailers are close to us
(like family, friends and colleagues) we prefer to strengthen, rather than
break, our bonds with them. Along with fear, obligation and guilt, the
target is confused – which makes it difficult to refuse the blackmailer’s
demands.
Some blackmailers are aggressive, upfront and confrontational whilst
others are passive, subtle and manipulate ‘behind the scenes’, so to
speak. However, all blackmailers share a fear of change, rejection or a
loss of power and control. As Forward and Frazier observe, blackmailers
do not have an explicit aim to destroy their victims:

Rather, they are people for whom blackmail is the ticket to feeling safe
and in charge. No matter how confident they look on the outside,
blackmailers are operating out of high degrees of anxiety. But then
110 Intimacy and Power

they snap their fingers and we jump. For a moment, our blackmailers
can feel powerful. Emotional blackmail becomes a defence against
feeling hurt and afraid.
(Forward and Frazier 1998: 11)

The emotional blackmailer uses the cloak of intimacy to gain knowl-

edge of the target’s innermost secrets and vulnerabilities. They threaten
to withhold love and approval so that the target feels that they can only
be earned by submission and compliance (Layder 2004b). If, for exam-
ple, someone regards themselves as generous and caring, the blackmailer
might accuse them of selfishness. Comments like ‘how could you be so
selfish after all I’ve done for you’ create obligation and fear of rejec-
tion. However, the more that someone gives in to emotional blackmail,
the more their own sense of competence, self worth and self-confidence
will be eroded. Forward and Frazier identify four typical guises in which
emotional blackmailers operate. ‘Punishers’ clearly signal what will hap-
pen if they do not get their way. ‘I’ll leave you if you go back to work’,
‘If you try to divorce me you’ll never see the kids again’, ‘if you marry
that man (woman) I’ll cut you out of my will’ are typical threats made
aggressively or subtly with the selective use of ‘smouldering silence’
(1998: 41). ‘Self-punishers’ threaten to damage their own health or
happiness if the target doesn’t comply with comments like ‘You make
me very depressed when you talk like that’, or ‘If you leave me I’ll
kill myself’.
‘Sufferers’ rely on peddling guilt and blaming the target for their own
failures. It is as if they say, ‘If you don’t do what I want, I will suffer and
it will be your fault’ – as in the statement ‘I might as well stick my head
in the oven for all you care’. Finally, ‘tantalisers’ promise rewards such
as money, a promotion, love or acceptance if the victim can deal with a
never-ending series of tests involving giving the blackmailer what he or
she wants. However, because of strings attached to each lure, promise or
incentive it becomes an endless game and an effective means of control
over the victim.
Clearly, ‘punishers’ manipulate emotional vulnerabilities as in ‘I’ll cut
you off from loved ones if you don’t do what I say’ but they seem to
differ from the other three types of blackmailer because they operate
from a position of aggression and dominance. ‘Sufferers’, ‘self-punishers’
and ‘tantalisers’ offer themselves as supposed ‘victims’ of the ‘selfish’
or insufferable behaviour of others. They elicit the sympathy and sup-
port of the real targets by ‘guilt-tripping’ them, so to speak. Punishers,
by contrast, lead with direct and explicit threats while the other three
 Personal Strategies and Repertoires 111

are indirect. They create guilt in the target by presenting themselves as

the real victims. Individuals who rely on indirect communication are
likely to indulge in these kinds of emotional blackmail since they also
require much more subtle manipulation of intimacy skills (see Chap-
ters 5 and 6). The aggressive and confrontational style of ‘punishers’ is
more typical of those who rely on direct communication.

Emotional terrorism/emotional bullying

Emotional terrorism stops just short of full-on physical violence
although it is often based on implicit threats of violence and intimi-
dation. Again, the terrorist is inadequate or insecure. And because he or
she finds it difficult to trust others they attempt to construct a regime
in which a partner lives in constant fear of their unpredictable out-
bursts. The behaviour of a typical emotional bully or terrorist may not
be immediately apparent. At first sight, a ‘terrorist’ may appear to be
warm, gentle and intelligent. However, sooner or later their true nature
will show through. In a first-hand account after two months of marriage,
one woman’s husband revealed himself to be a cold manipulative bully
(Stewart 1998). He would fly into unpredictable rages over domestic
details (such as claiming she had not matched his socks properly), and
blaming her totally for what he claimed were her failings and mistakes.
He felt inferior to his wife and therefore wanted to have her ‘under his
thumb’. His emotional bullying involved ‘protracted sulking silences’.
Such silent rages, sometimes lasting for two weeks, were a very efficient
method of gaining control over the relationship and allaying his fears
that she would leave him.
Appeasing and mollifying emotional bullies simply encourages the
cycle of bullying to continue whilst also undermining the victim’s self-
esteem. The terrorist’s insecurity and inferiority means that they cannot
tolerate the slightest indication that they are not in control of the sit-
uation. Their emotional bullying is thus a vain attempt to prevent any
loss of control or shift of power in the relationship. In the above case
the terrorist’s combination of extreme rage and sulking silences was a
way of externalising and denying his own failures. The need for con-
trol over others born out of inadequacy or personal failure is similar to
emotional blackmail, but the terrorist or bully is more of a monster. The
inner weaknesses of the blackmailer are used as anchors to which the
guilt of their targets may be harnessed, while the personal failings of
terrorists are somehow transformed into an aggressive hatred of their
victims.
112 Intimacy and Power

Intimacy strategies and repertoires

Individuals naturally draw from the whole range of strategies outlined
in this chapter. Of course, the more partners choose from the benign
strategies, the more mutually satisfying and energising will be the inti-
macy games they play. By contrast, if partners routinely use the more
manipulative ones, the more their relationships will be energy-draining
and swamped by negative emotions. In this respect, ‘strategies’ are not
the quite the same as the games themselves (outlined in the next two
chapters). Strategies are best understood as the particular ways in which
people play intimacy games – their individual game styles. Intimacy
‘games’ themselves are more to do with the rules that influence and
define the way in which partners deal with each other – the relationship
between them, rather than simply their individual styles.
8
Deficit or Energy-Draining Games

In this and the next chapter I describe some of the most common
intimacy games played by couples. While Chapter 9 focuses on ‘ener-
gising’ games, this one concentrates on ‘energy-draining’ games – the
ones that cause most trouble in relationships. By describing them first,
it is possible to identify those aspects of a relationship that constantly
create problems and issues and stifle the happiness of the partners. By
first doing this it is perhaps easier to appreciate how they could be trans-
formed or ‘healed’. However, first, it is necessary to understand a little
about the differences between these games.

Energising and energy-draining games

Why is it that energising intimacy games sometimes degenerate and

become energy draining? In energising games the energy flowing
between the partners is always increasing because of the positive effects
of their interaction. Each person invests their ‘own’ energy into the
shared ‘relationship pool’, because the relationship makes them feel at
ease, happy and content. As a result their commitment and loyalty to
one another is intensified. By combining forces partners increase the
overall amount of energy circulating in the relationship and thereby
strengthen their bond.
This can be seen in a very simple example, as when a partner or
friend suggests to the other that they do something together like go
to the cinema, or for a meal, visit friends, or simply spend time in
each other’s company. In a relationship that is strong and positive, part-
ners will respond to such a suggestion with excitement, anticipating
a satisfying sense of togetherness. As a result they are more than will-
ing to invest their energy and enthusiasm into the joint project. Their

113
114 Intimacy and Power

positive attitude creates rewarding feelings of euphoria and a wish to

repeat the experience. The circulation of energy in such a relationship
remains unbroken and continuous. Each encounter further adds to the
flow of energy because the partners want to constantly re-invest energy
to receive the buzz of connection and bonding (Collins 2005). This
continuous circulation of energy means that partners never become iso-
lated as energy givers and receivers. Their individual energies remain
high because a reservoir of shared energy remains circulating in the
bond between them. The unbroken circuit means that energy cannot
leak away.
Energy-draining games get started with a disruption of the bond
between the partners. The flow of energy in the relationship is broken
and each partner becomes drained of enthusiasm. The break may occur
for different reasons. It may be caused by a personality incompatibility –
for instance, an outward sociable person mismatched with someone
who is shy and introverted or a jealous, controlling character with
someone who values their independence. Such incompatibilities may
have existed beforehand, but were somehow masked, only to become
obvious once the relationship was underway. Alternatively, individu-
als sometimes grow in different directions developing new interests and
expectations that draw them apart. As well as mismatches of personal-
ity, partners (or friends) often find themselves at odds with one another
because their emotional needs are being neglected or undermined.
Whatever the reason, the partners become cut off from one another
and energy leaks from the relationship pool. Over time, each of them
becomes de-energised and de-motivated as they gain less and less from
the relationship. They feel unhappy, uncomfortable and unprotected
by the bond itself. As a consequence they begin to withdraw trust,
commitment and loyalty. A ‘de-coupling’ takes place with each partner
unpicking the ties that once held them together. They begin to avoid
close contact or joint ventures and generally sharing time together,
because they fear they will be disappointed and further frustrated. The
circuit is never resealed and the energy dynamic is never re-generated
because each person is drained of motivation.
The following descriptions of energy-draining games focus on the
way they cause partners to retreat from real intimacy while remain-
ing together. These games are typical of several kinds of relationships.
First, those at ‘the end of their tether’, with one or both partners seri-
ously considering a break-up. Second, they are found in relationships
in permanent disrepair in which trouble is ‘a way of life’ for partners.
Finally, such energy-draining games may be combined in particular
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 115

relationships – some having a dominant influence while others are

simply side games.

Manipulative games

These games are focused on the constant manipulation of power which

monopolises the attention of both partners. The more powerful part-
ner has to be in the driving seat in order to get what they need from
the relationship – whether it is love, security, recognition, validation
or whatever. Generally, the need to dominate derives from an initial
insecurity (perhaps about not being good enough to hold on to a part-
ner). If the weaker partner asserts his or her independence, it is seen
as a threat, triggering a fear of abandonment and loss of control over
the other. One way of preventing any loss is to unsettle and under-
mine the other psychologically, perhaps by chipping away at her or his
self-esteem, self-confidence or feelings of competence or self-value. This
keeps them unsure and hence they remain under the thumb of the more
dominant partner who attempts to steal energy from them. The partner
is drained of their life-force energy (both physical and emotional) in a
subtle, but parasitic fashion. The more passive they are as personalities,
the less will they be aware that this is happening. In fact, they may think
that their low self-esteem, and unhappiness, is ‘natural’ – the inevitable
trade-off for their dependency.
Of course, the more a partner challenges and resists both will be drawn
into an energy-sapping power struggle. But what does a dominant part-
ner get out of the situation? Are they filled with life-affirming energy?
Not at all, in fact their behaviour is self-defeating. Whilst their domi-
neering behaviour is designed to gain the security and unconditional
acceptance they crave, any sense that they might actually achieve this
is fleeting, elusive and ultimately illusory. In the final analysis they are
left feeling emotionally flat, the result of a hollow victory. There are two
main reasons.
First, although they want to be completely in control they can never
take this for granted because his or her partner always retains some
residual independence. Thus they are haunted by a continuing sense
of insecurity that their precious ‘control’ may be challenged at any
point in the future. Second, after an initial buzz of ‘having it their way’,
the dominant partner begins to feel emotionally short-changed because
they sense that the psychological support they gain has been obtained
fraudulently. Manipulation (whether blunt and obvious, or more sub-
tle and emotional) may bring a veneer of security, self-confidence and
116 Intimacy and Power

self-esteem, but it cannot bring the real thing. Genuine emotional ful-
filment requires the use of benign influence – it cannot be stolen or
extracted without the willing and empathic participation of another. It
would take a great deal of self-deception for a manipulative person to
be totally unaware of this. So, far from being an energy booster for the
dominant partner, manipulative games actually deplete energy.
The games, therefore, are symbiotic in which the partners are locked
into a mutual dependence, but for different reasons. For manipulation
to work properly, the dominant partner needs someone who will accept
their control and not put up too much resistance. In turn, the submis-
sive partner becomes reliant on the other’s influence because it creates
structure and organisation for their life. At the same time it allows them
to abandon many responsibilities.

Variations on the theme

Manipulative games appear in different forms. Although they always
involve the rather bullying intimidation of one partner by another the
extent and intensity of this can vary. At one end of the scale the bullying
can take the form of emotional manipulation with either no indication
or only the merest hint of physical threat to back up control. At the
other end of the scale, of course, we have full-blown emotional terror-
ism and physical abuse (as in ‘domestic abuse’ involving both women
and men). While this more serious and aggressive form has received
most attention in research, the less intense versions are probably more
widespread. They are found in those relationships in which one part-
ner tends to take the lead and make decisions over important matters
through sheer force of personality, psychological manipulation, stub-
bornness, criticism, heavy-handed argument, intimidating comments or
even implicit threats of physical coercion.
Although the game is a favourite preserve of males, women, too, are
just as capable of playing the lead role. But the personalities of the part-
ners as well as their gender also play a crucial part in determining who
will play the ‘lead’ or ‘submissive’ roles. Furthermore, a person who is
dominant in one relationship may, in another, be happy to accept a
more subordinate position – as I shall now illustrate with reference to
John Lennon’s two marriages. A different partner and different circum-
stances may bring out different emotional needs in the same person and
thus reveal a different side to their personality. This, in effect, is what
seems to have happened when John Lennon moved from his first wife
Cynthia to his second, Yoko Ono.
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 117

The marriages of John Lennon

John Lennon’s first marriage was to Cynthia Powell and she has written
about her life with him in the early years, both before and after the
success of the Beatles. Cynthia (Lennon 2005) suggests that before they
married, John was a rather insecure suitor. The insecurity can be clearly
traced to three critical events in his early life. First, at the age of five he
was required to choose between staying with his mother or father when
their relationship broke down. Second, having chosen his mother, he
subsequently had to endure the heartache of being separated from her
(age seven), because living with his aunt was thought to be the more
practical option. Third, at the age of fifteen he was severely traumatised
by the death of his mother, whom he idolised.
During his adolescence John kept these painful memories, and the
psychological insecurities that they generated, well hidden from every-
one around him. He adopted a persona that presented a tough, some-
times deliberately cruel, outward appearance to the world, even seem-
ingly enjoying other people’s misfortunes. Underneath, however, he
remained troubled by his hurtful childhood memories and this softer
and extremely vulnerable side was glimpsed by only a few of those close
to him. When he met Cynthia at art-college his insecurity manifested
itself in periodic jealous rages for what (he imagined) was her show-
ing interest in other men. At one point Cynthia recounts that John
hit her because she had danced with a mutual friend – although it was
entirely innocent – and this led her to seriously question the incipient
relationship.
Whilst not condoning this behaviour, it is fairly easy to conclude that
John’s jealousy was prompted by his childhood memories (and contin-
uing fears) of abandonment – first by his father and then his mother. In
such situations a child will fear abandonment because he or she imag-
ines they are not good enough to retain the love of their parents – in
John’s case, his mother in particular. The jealous rage is, without doubt,
an expression of pain by an already hurt and vulnerable person. But it
is also his (or her) attempt to thwart an anticipated loss of their part-
ner – and thus crucially, a loss of control over this person’s affections –
by nipping it in the bud before it happens. It is a means of seizing con-
trol before control slips away. Of course, the anticipated loss is all in the
mind of the beholder, but this doesn’t make the anxiety any less real.
This kind of behaviour exhibits some of the classic features of manip-
ulative games. The pattern of these initial attempts at control was
repeated over and over again in John’s subsequent marriage to Cynthia
118 Intimacy and Power

and became a routine feature of their relationship, with John adopting

the active dominant role while Cynthia was the passive, submissive part-
ner. As with the incident of violence that Cynthia records – for which
she forgave John and took him back – in her marriage as a whole,
she exhibited a sequence of similar ‘forgiving’ (and thus submissive)
behaviour based on her belief that beneath his macho exterior there
was a tender and vulnerable child that needed to be understood.
Indeed, it seems, what kept her committed to the relationship
(although she does not explicitly say this) was the thought that she
could rescue his ‘vulnerable child’ from the clutches of his more aggres-
sive and dominant self (see Chapter 7). In short, her long-term project
was to recover his tender loving side that she herself had been privy
to only in brief glimpses, in between the more distracted, detached
and controlling behaviour he usually adopted with her. However, this
project was rudely interrupted once he had met Yoko Ono and embarked
on an affair with her. Once this had happened, his relationship with
Cynthia became something of a tiresome obstacle to John. She was dis-
patched, eventually, in a rather cruel and dispassionate manner, being
‘thrown out of her own home’ without any protest or attempt at resis-
tance. This, of course, simply reinforced the notion that she was a
passive object willing to be shunted around at the behest of her husband
who, incidentally, even falsely accused her of infidelity.
John’s subsequent relationship with Yoko was based on entirely dif-
ferent principles to the one with Cynthia. Two simultaneous changes
seemed to underpin this radical alteration. First, John’s tough, aggres-
sive and frankly egocentric self, which had predominated for so long,
had been muted and softened due to the influence of the vast amount
of drugs he was using. Combined with this was the fact that his complete
absorption in Yoko at this stage revived early feelings about his mother.
Indeed, John came to identify Yoko as a mother figure, one in whom
he could involve and surrender himself almost entirely (Goldman 1988,
Seaman 1991).
As a complement to his newly acquired passivity, and in stark contrast
to Cynthia, from the start, Yoko assumed the dominant role in the rela-
tionship. She assumed the role of parental figure protectively guiding
her charge through the conventional world of networking and business
deals that John so despised. Later, in their marriage she assumed entire
control over John’s financial and business affairs which gave him the
freedom to indulge himself in whatever distractions he wished, includ-
ing, of course, his song writing and recording. But she also ‘managed’
him emotionally. In this respect he was more dependent on her than
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 119

she was on him. She even suggested at one point that he should take
a lover (an associate of hers called May Pang) because she needed a
break from his overwhelming dependence and reliance on her. However,
once she decided she was ready to take him back she instructed him to
abandon Pang and summoned him back to their New York apartment.
By all accounts John meekly submitted to these demands seemingly
completely in the thrall of Yoko.
With his almost total emotional and practical submission to Yoko, we
have here a complete reversal of the relationship with Cynthia. Instead
of John being dominant he is now the passive partner with Yoko being
stronger and more pro-active. The cause was threefold. First, there was
a change in John’s personality; and second, Yoko brought out a differ-
ent side of his personality – the vulnerable child to her mother parental
figure. Finally, as the new partner (Yoko) responded to him quite differ-
ently – she wouldn’t tolerate his aggressive bullying side and, in fact,
taught him how to be submissive and respectful towards women. John
moved from a game in which he was the instigator and focal point of
the manipulations that characterised his first marriage, to a subsequent
game in which he was now the object of his partner’s orchestrations.
The more general point illustrated here is that the players are not nec-
essarily permanently stuck in their game roles – although, of course,
while they remain in a particular relationship their roles and behaviour
may be relatively fixed. However, a change of partners may open up the
possibility that dominant and submissive positions in one relationship
may be reversed in another.

Games of attrition

These games usually indicate an advanced state of deterioration in a

relationship and are associated with ‘pretence’ intimacy in which the
partners put up a nominal show of closeness while in the company
of other people, but actually feel little or nothing for each other. The
partners may once have been ‘closer’ but the feeling that one or both
partners ‘will never get it right’ generally marks a rapid reduction in
the quality of intimacy. If, indeed it started out as ‘dynamic’ intimacy
it quickly passes through ‘episodic’ and ‘semi-detached’ phases, end-
ing up with the unsatisfactory compromise of ‘mutual pretence’. In
this sense attrition is primarily an endgame rather than an interim
one. Unlike manipulation, in games of attrition partners are relatively
equally matched although they may approach the game differently – for
example, using ‘offensive’ versus ‘defensive’ styles of conflict.
120 Intimacy and Power

There are two main variants of games of attrition although both

involve some manipulation. In the first, one person initiates the game
and keeps it going while his or her partner uses defensive and/or
‘counter-attacking’ manoeuvres. The game is rather one-sidedly energy
draining. The ‘initiator’ slowly tries to grind the other down with per-
sistent criticisms and comments designed to undermine their morale,
competence and self-confidence. In response a partner may put up a
spirited resistance based on counter-attack or self-justification. This may
be the pattern over a considerable period of time, but eventually, the
unending put downs and criticisms wear them down. He or she becomes
‘battle fatigued’ and resigned to the fact that the relationship will never
provide them with emotional satisfaction.
If the ‘lead’ or ‘initiator’ of the game habitually relies on indirect com-
munication then they are more likely to use nagging, whingeing and
emotional blackmail to wear down the ‘opposition’. In response the
other partner may deliberately tune out of the constant barrages and
thus remains aloof to them. However, in the process the target may fur-
ther infuriate the initiator who may step up his or her attack. The target
may launch periodic counter-attacks when the initiator’s critical jibes
finally strike home. On the other hand, being subjected to constant
nagging a person may respond in kind by trading critical comments
on a one-to-one basis. In this sense the counter-attack is an attempt to
reassert ‘authority’ (that is, ‘control’) in response to insistent attempts to
undermine it. If, however, the ‘lead’ habitually uses direct communica-
tion, the weapons of choice will more likely be comprised of criticisms,
complaints, ‘interrogation’ and ‘surveillance’.

An example
To further illustrate how this works and what I mean by ‘interroga-
tion’, let me draw from my own personal experience – the relationship
between my parents (both of whom passed away some time ago). My
father was an excellent example of the lead player in a game of attri-
tion with my mother as the counter-attacking partner responding to
his never-ending complaints and criticisms. Any aspect of domestic
life could become the focus of his negativity and disapproval and my
mother was always blamed for whatever it was that bothered him. If his
shirt collars were not cleaned perfectly, if he found dust anywhere in
the house, if she failed to iron an item of clothing to his exacting stan-
dards he would begin – in a low key way at first – to let his objections be
known.
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 121

But these objections didn’t just take the form of isolated comments
bluntly expressed and quickly forgotten. They were woven into a cease-
less carping commentary on the unsatisfactory state of affairs – why
it had arisen and how it could have been avoided. The sequence would
build and build with her fending off the flow of tedious barbs until even-
tually, she would explode in rage. The next phase would be a full-scale
shouting match with her becoming increasingly volatile and aggressive
whilst he continued to stoke things up with his endlessly repeated criti-
cisms and comments. The third phase would be mutual withdrawal into
a vicious spiky silence punctuated by periodic outbursts – the overflow
of after-thoughts on the subject. The subsequent atmosphere would be
unbearably tense, with my parents hardly able to tolerate each other’s
presence. This uneasy cessation of hostilities would last until the next
round was initiated by yet another of my father’s complaints. And so
the pattern would be repeated ad nauseam.
However, my father’s irritations were not limited simply to what
he considered to be his wife’s infractions of her domestic ‘duties and
responsibilities’. He would routinely interrogate her as to what she had
said and to whom, where she went, and what she did when she was out
of his immediate presence. He was particularly concerned about exactly
what she said to other people, the minute details of the conversation or
gossip that had transpired and which friends, neighbours or (extended)
family members were privy to which bits of information. This behaviour
was partly caused by his desperation to keep a secret of the fact that
he was unemployed most of the time (and couldn’t hold down a job
anyway, because of his lack of social skills).
Of course, this made him paranoid about controlling information
about himself and the economic status of the family. Thus his surveil-
lance and interrogation techniques, as they were practised on my
mother (and me to a growing extent), were designed to restrict the flow
of information and preserve his ‘terrible secret’. But he used these tech-
niques in the same manner as his general complaining and criticism.
Instead of a brief, one-off exchange he would keep on and on ask-
ing, probing, demanding, double-checking the facts, searching for any
perceived weaknesses in your story, making sure you were telling him
everything, over and over again, driving my mother (and me) crazy.
Incidentally, as the references to my own involvement may have sug-
gested, children who witness such relationships are not simply external
bystanders. They are as much a part of the relationship as the cou-
ple themselves and as such they live out the emotions, tensions and
conflicts of the partners. In this sense the anxieties and fears that the
122 Intimacy and Power

children ‘inherit’ from this experience begin to have a life of their own.
In my case until I was in my teens I was extremely anxious and fearful
that my mother (who was the central block in my emotional stability)
might leave him (and thus abandon me) and that I would be left to fend
for myself against ‘him’.

Other variants and aspects of the game

Instead of just one person leading the ‘fault-finding’, a variant is when
both partners alternately take the lead role in a competitive struggle
whereby each tries to wear the other down. Thus in trying to rob one
another of energy they drain themselves and the relationship of all
momentum and intimacy. Eventually, both partners feel resigned to
their mutual incompatibility and to a total compromise of their hopes,
wishes and desires. Because they are both ‘victims’ – or ‘losers’ – in the
game, they are responsible for creating their own emotional prison. Any
‘intimacy’ they show each other is mutual pretence acted-out simply
for public ‘show’. In reality, there is little likelihood of any return to a
mutually satisfying relationship. In this game of mutual pretence, the
partners are likely to adopt a mixture of weaponry and strategies drawn
from the repertoires of both direct and indirect communicators.
Both variants of this game raise the crucially important questions of
why and how they get started. What causes one or both partners to
initiate the fault-finding, game in which the ‘other’ can never be good
enough to satisfy them, can never get it right as far as they are con-
cerned? Two possible scenarios could account for this. The first involves
a drastic loss of power and control (of one or both partners) in a rela-
tionship that was, at some point, operating fairly normally. Perhaps a
serious illness either physical or mental or traumatic event – with an
associated loss of self-confidence, self-esteem and competence – may set
in train the fault-finding mode.
Alternatively, one or both partners might enter the relationship
with a strong sense of powerlessness. An example of this might be
those women who are basically limited to the role of housewife, who,
faced mainly with domestic chores and menial tasks, consequently,
feel trapped and powerless. In this sense, nagging is a kind of protest
against their lack of value and influence in the world (Pease and Pease
2002). The example of my father is of an overwhelming sense of impo-
tence born out of two pressures. First, his lack of a job, which meant
he couldn’t be a ‘real’ breadwinner, or head of family. Second, his
lack of social skills meant that he couldn’t influence those around
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 123

him in the way he would have liked. Both deficiencies thwarted his
ambition and culminated in a sense of failure in life – of not being good
enough.
Another question concerns the fact that the apparent objective of the
lead player is to suck the life-energy from their partner until he or she is
broken and defeated. But why would anybody do this? One possibility
is that it is a desperate attempt to resuscitate themselves – their self-
esteem, competence and power – by simply stealing another’s energy. Of
course, the game is tragic because it is so comprehensively self-defeating.
It drains the energies of each of the individuals and the relationship as a
whole to the extent that it creates a huge deficit – a black hole of escaped
energy – making any semblance of intimacy impossible.

Emotional withholding games

Although games of emotional withholding are energy draining, in many

respects they are less negative and daunting than some of the others.
Whereas in the two previous games there is a definite wrecking impulse
in one or both partners that pushes towards the destruction of their rela-
tionship, emotional withholding is subtler. Instead of breaking down
‘the opposition’, the individual tries to be as emotionally elusive to a
partner as possible thereby softening his or her emotional hold over
him or her. The game is one of avoidance, of holding back, of not ‘giv-
ing’ oneself for fear of being revealed as not good enough, or insecure.
By remaining elusive it is more difficult to be abandoned in any defini-
tive manner. More positively, by being unreachable a person remains in
control. Instead of trying to actively control the other, she or he makes
themselves uncontrollable.
Often a version of this game occurs in the early stages of relationships,
such as in romantic courtship (or ‘sussing out’ in friendships) where the
partners are not giving too much away about their feelings. This has two
functions. First, it helps to allay the disappointment of rejection if the
relationship doesn’t work out for some reason because each person has
kept something of themselves and their feelings in reserve. Second, it
creates a mystery and a puzzle for the other to work out and which is
offered as a ‘test’ of their feelings and intentions. If the challenge is taken
up and the test passed, then the relationship can go forward – it is the
signal for the partners to get closer, to trust and commit to one another
on a deeper basis. In this sense, games of emotional withholding are
played on a provisional basis early on before the relationship is stable.
124 Intimacy and Power

After this, however, the game is often abandoned as the partners become
more and more disclosing towards one another.
However, in some established friendships and romantic partnerships,
the game is played on a routine basis and with much greater seriousness
and intensity. In these, the game is no longer exploratory. Rather, it has
become a means of withholding intimacy or keeping it within certain
‘manageable’ limits (typical of ‘episodic’ or ‘semi-detached’ intimacy).
There are three aspects to this. First, the emotional withholding or avoid-
ance is only partial. It is not that the ‘withholder’ is not giving anything
at all; rather, they selectively avoid important relationship issues. For
example, they may be reluctant to say how much they love and care for
their partner, how much they value them, or how much they want to
do things together.
Second, at the same time, the withholding or avoidance is a way
of keeping control. Avoiding vulnerability seems a crucial part of this
game. The player doesn’t say ‘I’m not available at all’. Rather, he or she
communicates to the effect that ‘some part of me is available but there is
also a secret part of me that isn’t’, and this is a seductive ploy that keeps
the other interested. But this secret part can never be divulged because
it would make the person vulnerable and, hence, controllable. Finally,
although the withholder keeps control for himself or herself, they simul-
taneously drain energy from the relationship and, as a consequence,
both partners suffer.

Differences in intimacy skills and communication styles

Those individuals who have few intimacy skills may fall into this game
unintentionally. Opting for brooding silence or emotional withdrawal
may be more the result of an inability to express oneself, than deliberate
elusiveness. On the other hand, some indirect communicators may use
it as a manipulative ploy. Although not as extreme as emotional bullying
or blackmail, it is, nevertheless, extremely effective as a tactic of control.
However, most frequently this game is neither unintentional nor delib-
erate. It seems to be played by individuals who are afraid or insecure
about intimacy and disclosure. By holding the other at bay emotionally,
he or she tries to be elusive and remain in control, turning an inner
weakness into a position of strength in the relationship. It could be
argued that someone who is emotionally elusive is almost inviting an
emotional rescue response from the other. As noted in Chapter 7 emo-
tional rescuers often convince themselves that they can transform their
partners, and thus reveal hitherto hidden, but more acceptable traits or
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 125

characteristics, only to find that this is a vain quest. Emotional rescuers

pursue ‘lost causes’ in the hope that they can turn things around (De
Angelis 1992).

Types of intimate relationship

Games of emotional withholding are linked to three main forms of inti-
macy. First, where intimacy is deteriorating over time the game marks
the move from ‘dynamic’ to ‘episodic’ or ‘semi-detached’ as one or
both partners become more and more emotionally distant. Second, in
‘episodic’ intimacy emotional avoidance may have become the partners’
routine way of relating to one another. But if one partner is ‘unavailable’
while the other wants to be closer, they will become resentful. The tense
relationship will be interspersed with periods of uneasy truce and calm
in which the problem is neither alluded to, nor spoken about. Third, the
game may be played alongside ‘manipulative’, ‘oppressive’ or ‘pretence’
intimacy where there may be an almost permanent state of withdrawal
between the partners (Miller 1995, Marshall 2006). In such cases emo-
tional avoidance (or ‘unavailability’) is used more as an offensive, rather
than a defensive, weapon.
In all cases the game may be initiated by one or both,partners. If there
is one main initiator, then the game becomes a serial form of emo-
tional hide and seek. A combination of fear and insecurity makes the
‘withholder’ determined not ‘to be pinned down’ psychologically and
emotionally. Being elusive safeguards against emotional exposure and
being accountable to others. Although the initiator is ‘in control’ it is a
negative control by default and this drains energy from the relationship.
Of course, there remains the possibility that such a relationship could
be revived. However, this requires that the emotional avoider (and/or
withholder) gains some insight into his or her ‘problem’, and is willing
and motivated to change. If both partners are emotional avoiders then
it is more like a game of chess, with a continuous succession of move
followed by countermove in which they drain themselves and the rela-
tionship of energy. Neither can see things from the other’s viewpoint
and the game takes on an aura of a doomed endgame.

Ego-centred games

The two versions of ego-centred games are very much related, but have
slightly different emphases. In both games one player seeks attention at
the expense of the other. In the first game, ‘poor me’, the lead player
appeals to his or her ‘victim’ status to grab attention and create pity as
126 Intimacy and Power

well as a ‘caring’ or ‘rescue’ response by the other. Such appeals depend

on pleas like ‘please don’t take advantage of me I’m only doing my best’.
In the other game, ‘look at me’, the lead player appeals to his or her
inflated sense of ‘importance’ and status and involves pleas like ‘I have
so many important responsibilities – they must be given priority’.
In both games the lead player gains attention, sympathy and defer-
ence. They drain a great deal of energy because the lead plays mind
games with their partner. However, this is not simply to undermine
their partner’s self-esteem, but rather, because they are totally self-
absorbed. In this sense ego-centrism completely dominates both games
with the lead consistently grabbing attention from their partner – and
thus ensuring that they always come first.

Types of intimacy
These games are mainly associated with ‘manipulative’ and ‘pretence’
intimacy. In the first, a person uses their ‘victim’ or ‘important’ status
while encouraging their partner to be supportive. If a man ‘leads’, the
relationship may gravitate around him because of his ‘important’ job
(and correspondingly inflated ego), while his ‘stay-at-home’ wife rele-
gates her ‘less important’ responsibilities. Of course, this mirrors the
now somewhat stereotyped division in society between the mainly male
‘public domain’ of work, business and careers, as compared with the pri-
vate, female domain of family life, housework and childrearing (Smith
1988, Cameron 2007). In the public domain general intimacy, caring
and interpersonal relations are subordinated to, and thus neglected, in
favour of the family income, consumption patterns, contact networks
and so on.
An individual might employ the ‘poor me’ variant of the game includ-
ing all manner of emotional blackmails as a means of retaining attention
in the relationship. Thus his or her pleas and appeals may include ‘after
all the sacrifices I’ve made’, or ‘after all I’ve done for you’, or ‘all the
support I given you’, to ‘I could handle this if my health wasn’t so
bad’, or even ‘I always seem to be the one who gets hurt’. In either case
(man or woman as lead) the manipulator tries to guilt trip their partner
into accepting that their desires and interests come second in the rela-
tionship. But it is important to recognise that in ‘poor me’ or ‘look at
me’ the partner is not coerced or intimidated. The partners are ‘willing
slaves’, and may even be actively supportive of their spouses or part-
ners. For all intents and purposes, they are ‘happy’ with the role offered
to them and in this sense the union could be described as ‘harmoniously
imbalanced’.
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 127

By contrast, when these games are linked with pretence intimacy, nei-
ther partner is willing to accept a subordinate position. Private deals and
pacts serve to equalise the apparent differences in power and control.
For example, a housewife who enthusiastically supports her husband
may do so only if her husband allows her to call the shots in the more
private, domestic sphere. Thus, for example, she may have the deciding
vote in many important matters concerning intimacy (such as lovemak-
ing, disciplining the children, family relations – who is invited over, who
is visited – and so on). In this manner the public image of the couple as
one in which a particular partner is thought to ‘wear the trousers’ may
be an illusion – because both wear them in different contexts.
With pretence intimacy, in the ‘poor me’ and ‘look at me’ games both
partners take the lead – although perhaps at different times. Appeal-
ing to either their victim status or their greater ‘importance’ provides
one, or both, with a means of ‘stealing’ energy from the other. Inter-
estingly, both partners may play the same game, trying to outwit one
another at every turn. Thus they might try to ‘out-victim’ or ‘out-rank’
one another in an attempt to bag more attention and energy from a
rapidly depleting reservoir. In such a case claiming to be a victim is used
in a more aggressive fashion as a means of gaining the upper hand in
the relationship.

Addictive or co-dependent games

These games revolve around the shared fears, insecurities and depen-
dency needs of the partners. Because of their psychological vulnera-
bilities they become over-reliant on one another. But the price they
must pay for the protection afforded by their bond is some loss of their
identities as individuals. Protective unity is achieved at the expense
of independence and self-reliance. Clearly, the partners inhabit a self-
imposed prison but are also painfully aware that they can’t easily escape
from it. Thus, both partners secretly harbour feelings of resentment.
Unpredictable as it may seem, intimacy in these games is a mixture
of the genuine and phoney. The partners possess two overriding, but
strongly opposing needs. Their primary need is to maintain the loyalty,
support and commitment of their partner so that they continue to be a
source of psychological support and confirmation of themselves as indi-
viduals. But this cuts into their ability to give genuine affection, care
and love. Every expression of care and tenderness is compromised by
the need to enslave the other. Thus seduction is always interlaced with
phoney elements. The need to grab and maintain the other’s attention
128 Intimacy and Power

at all costs is overriding. Constant mutual surveillance breeds a special

kind of paranoia in which each partner checks out where the other
is going, what they are doing and with whom. Other people (poten-
tial lovers, friends or even intrusive relatives) must not threaten their
mutual dependence. Another side effect is an unbearable claustropho-
bia that produces a reflex need to create personal breathing space. Thus,
periodically partners may feel the need to be free from the straightjacket
in which they find themselves. But, of course, this is compromised by
their equal hunger for the self-confirmation that their partner supplies.
In addictive (or co-dependent) intimacy (Peele and Brodsky 1974, Gid-
dens 1992, Norwood 2004) the individuals are both active manipulators
and, at the same time, passive victims of their partner’s manipulations.
That is, partners are simultaneously both subject and object of game
strategies. In other energy-draining games, individuals are required to
play only one role at a time. Thus they can either be manipulators or
victims, but not both manipulators and victims at the same time. In
general, co-dependent games thrive on a duality of outward loyalty and
disguised deception. It is in the interests of both partners to shower each
other with compliments and ‘positive strokes’ (Berne 1966) in order to
keep one another sweet and to perpetuate an image of unity. Indeed
while they outwardly stress ‘togetherness’, it is, in fact, all about keep-
ing an eye on one another. The relationship looks for ‘all the world’, as
if it was in ‘good order’ whereas in reality it masks an oppressive mutual
over-dependence.
Beneath the apparent unity and harmony, there lies suspicion and
mild paranoia. Partners scrutinise one another’s most commonplace
comments and utterances in case they contain hidden messages. Check-
ing one another’s whereabouts and meetings with ‘outsiders’ becomes
the stock in trade of both partners. In some cases, cutting off from for-
mer friends, family and colleagues may be insisted upon because they
threaten the ‘security’ of the relationship (Stewart 1998, Horley 2000,
Norwood 2004). Unable to live independently, they thus opt for a patho-
logical unity in which each suppresses the other’s freedom while at the
same time claiming that they love and care deeply for one another. Some
individuals are more likely to be assertive, dominant or competitive, cre-
ating dependencies, cutting off a partner from friends, or undermining
his or her confidence whilst stressing their own self-importance. Others
may be more likely to play the victim, or attempt to emotionally rescue
a partner.
Games of addiction and co-dependence are rather unusual as com-
pared with the other energy-draining games because both partners are
 Deficit or Energy-Draining Games 129

simultaneously playing the roles of manipulator and victim. Both roles

are emotionally destructive and deplete the common pool of energy
required to sustain a mutually satisfying relationship. The partners are
bound together, but pulling in opposite directions. They are not isolated
from each other as they are in other energy-draining games because they
need to sustain the illusion that they are a couple. But privately they
steal one another’s energy and remain emotionally decoupled.

Concluding comment

It is possible for different energy-draining games to be played at differ-

ent points in a relationship, reflecting changes in a partner’s moods,
attitudes and circumstances. Alternatively, different games may over-
lap with each other ensuring that energy from many sources is drained
unremittingly from the relationship. Of course, when partners choose to
play only energy-draining games, their relationship is likely to remain
on a downward spiral of unhappiness. To turn things around they
would have to try to reverse the flow of negative energy by deliberately
introducing energising elements.
9
Energising Games

Partners feel energised if they have some control over one another’s
feelings and responses. The sense of aliveness that comes from a sat-
isfying relationship makes them feel vibrant and enthusiastic about life.
Thus, a sense of control is essential to feelings of competence. Being suc-
cessful in social life depends on mutual benign control, in which there
is an exchange of emotional (psychic) energy. If a relationship is formed
around benign control its non-competitive, creative and intuitive nature
will make it more energising. However, if exploitation or manipulation
is involved, relationships will be energy draining.
In energising games partners cater for one another’s personal needs so
as to create emotional closeness. By supporting one another’s security,
self-esteem, sense of self-worth and so on, they boost their intimacy.
In energy-draining games, intimacy needs are thwarted or suppressed
by a lack of concern about feelings, interests and desires. In everyday
life emotional and identity needs are closely connected with feelings
of security and self-esteem (Layder 2004b). Someone low on security is
often afraid and anxious and has difficulty with intimate relationships
(Laing 1969). A person who lacks self-esteem will feel ‘inappropriate
to life’ (Branden 1985) and its challenges and may shy away from
intimate contact. Other personal needs such as self-confidence, love,
acceptance and approval, self-worth and self-respect, feeling special and
understood, also depend on a foundation of security and self-esteem. In
energy-draining games partners tend to attack or undermine these needs
while in energising games they are supported and enhanced by the use
of positive ‘strokes’ (Berne 1966).
In this chapter I describe five closely linked energising games, which
differ in terms of the psycho-emotional needs they target most. Thus,
while one game emphasises approval and acceptance, another might

130
 Energising Games 131

concentrate on individuality or emotional understanding, and so on.

Each game ‘specialises’ in particular emotional and psychological needs.
In one sense all emotional needs reinforce each other and therefore
the most energising relationships are those in which aspects of all five
games play a part. However, if only one game is involved then certain
essential needs will be overlooked. For example, in games of ‘mutual
seduction’, love and approval may be in plentiful supply, but identity or
communication needs may be neglected.
In energy-draining games control can be achieved in two ways. Either
one partner imposes his or her will at the expense of the other, or
both partners jockey to gain advantage by skilful manoeuvring or unfair
means. In both, communication is ‘closed’ and imperative (Bernstein
1972) involving little or no debate. Because the controlling partner’s
self-interests have priority, he or she simply demands or instructs the
other.
By contrast, in energising games partners encourage one another
to arrive at ‘fair deal’ agreements and compromises. Although there
is some jockeying and competition, each partner is willing to accept
less and to acknowledge the other’s feelings and wishes. The partners
discuss things openly, respecting one another’s views, and arrive at
agreements based on shared understanding. They exchange emotional
‘gifts’ of ‘comments’ and ‘opinions’ rather than information, instruc-
tions or demands. Each recognises that their own needs, interests and
desires can only be satisfied if they satisfy those of their partner. It’s
not a matter of giving ‘unconditionally’ because intimate relationships
are based on the hope that ‘loving gifts’ will be returned in kind. But
partners freely decide whether to return favours and don’t respond to
threats, intimidation or manipulation. Over time ‘giving’ will tend to
equal itself out, but if one person consistently ‘gives’ more, he or she
may come to question the fairness of the arrangement.

Optimal or mutually satisfying intimacy

Over time intimacy will depreciate or deteriorate if there are contin-

ual problems arising from personality clashes, lack of communication
and so on. In long-term relationships where partners are living together
over-familiarity may cause emotional drift. Knowing someone deeply is
double-edged. On the one hand, being ‘in synch’ with someone may
keep the bond ticking over smoothly – as reflected in the phrase ‘we
know one another so well we can finish off each other’s sentences’.
132 Intimacy and Power

But partners may begin to take one another for granted, creating
resentments and leading to emotional drift.
Of course, real intimacy can only survive if partners don’t take each
other for granted. In this sense, optimal intimacy is always in danger
of ‘going wrong’ and, thus, lasting relationships are those that con-
stantly ‘correct’ themselves before they go awry. Partners spot problems
as, or before, they arise and deal with them constructively. Such rela-
tionships are more resilient because partners are ever alert to danger and
avoid excessive energy loss and emotional drift by continually review-
ing and redefining their relationship. It’s not that energising games are
completely free of disruptive elements. Rather, by approaching prob-
lems constructively and reflectively partners avoid getting bogged down.
In contrast, partners in energy-draining games are continually steal-
ing energy from each other. They are on a downward spiral and the
relationship is constantly losing energy.

Key themes in energising games

The five energising games cover different aspects of ‘dynamic’ intimacy.

Of course, all relationships get into difficulties and at such times the
partners are likely to slip into bad habits – particularly selfishness and
manipulation. If intimacy is truly dynamic, the partners will quickly
return to more benign ways of influencing one another. However, a
relationship may hit a period of persistent trouble and intimacy may
become ‘episodic’, or even ‘semi-detached’, before returning to its ini-
tial state (possibly after counselling or therapy). The energising games
described here are interlinked but they are distinguishable:

(a) First, energising games differ in terms of how partners (benignly)

control and influence one another. For example in games of mutual
seduction partners reward one another for positive behaviour.
Thus they are encouraged to carry on with energising behaviour
while avoiding selfishness, whereas in identity-affirming games
control and influence takes place through the medium of ego
grooming.
(b) Second, energising games differ in the manner in which they spot-
light and ‘work on’ specific personal (identity and emotional) needs.
Thus, mutual seduction emphasises acceptance and approval –
essential for a strong and stable sense of identity – whereas altruistic
games stress the protection of the bond (Figure 9.1).
 Energising Games 133

Game Benign control Need

(1) Mutual seduction Reward/reinforcement Love, acceptance
games and approval
(2) Identity-affirming Ego grooming Recognition of
games individuality
(3) Empathy games Empathy/rapport Being understood
(4) Altruistic games Altruism/benevolence Protection of the
bond
(5) Mutually supportive Co-operation/mutual Balance of
games respect independence and
dependence

Figure 9.1 Energising games

Mutual seduction games

In this game partners benignly control and influence one another by

offering love and affection. They behave in the spirit of giving (rather
than taking) in the sense that each is willing to make the first move. The
partners mirror acts of love, kindness and appreciation and emphasise
the importance of ‘unconditional’ love. However, in practice it is usually
expected that love will be returned in kind at some future time. Indeed,
if one person believes that they are ‘giving’ too much as compared to
their partner then they are likely to withdraw emotionally. Thus while
there is roughly equal give and take, a relationship will be continually
re-energised, but if this becomes imbalanced, energy will drain from it.
Without doubt, love, acceptance and approval are the bedrock of suc-
cessful intimacy because they help provide security, self-esteem and a
robust sense of personal identity. When love and approval are present,
partners feel at ease and accept one another’s vulnerabilities and short-
comings. The game is reflected in the following comments, which are
usually accompanied by hugs, kisses, touches and so on:

‘I love you, I appreciate you’

‘I want to do this for you’
‘I want to give you this as a token of my gratitude’
‘You deserve all the love and support I can give’
‘I am so lucky to have you’
‘I would do anything for you’
‘You mean so much to me’
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you’
134 Intimacy and Power

‘I can always depend on your warmth and enthusiasm’

‘You are always there when I need you’
‘Give me a hug’
‘You’ll never change, but I love you still’

Acceptance is not simply an empty expression of tolerance. It means

‘I accept you for yourself with all your limitations and imperfections’.
Similarly, ‘approval’ doesn’t have to be asked for, or earned. In a lov-
ing relationship approval is given almost without thought – ‘you don’t
have to ask for my blessing, you know that you already have it’ might
be an expression of this. Love, acceptance and approval promote trust
and loyalty. They express the sentiment ‘you have my trust and I have
yours’. Physical or verbal gestures of love communicate the value of one
another’s company and reflect the basic need for social connectedness,
which, in essence, is a way of staving off feelings of loneliness. Clearly,
partners benignly influence and control one another’s responses in an
effort to satisfy their own needs and desires as well as their partner’s,
but mutual satisfaction also occurs through the seductive power of gifts
and persuasion. The seductive effects of persuasion in particular play a
crucial part in these games.
The game is complicated by the fact that some research has shown
that men and women tend to express love in different ways (Cancian
1987). Some men express love by practical help, financial support and
sexual desire whereas some women emphasise talk and the exchange of
affection – although, of course, these roles may be reversed in many situ-
ations. Clearly, intimate communication is central to mutual seduction
and when this game is going well, both partners ‘give’ on an equal basis.
But a person who is naturally ‘more giving’ may take on more than their
fair share of emotional responsibility in the relationship. Such a person
may also be ripe for manipulation. In this sense, the game can remain
energising only if there is a genuine balance of responsibilities.

Identity-affirming games

In these games partners pay attention to one another’s individuality –

their unique special qualities – and they benignly influence and con-
trol each other through ego grooming. Here ‘ego grooming’ doesn’t
refer to inflating a partner’s sense of importance by feeding him or her
false information – say by flattery, or pretending they are better than
they are, or that they are superior to others. Rather, partners ‘home in’
on one another’s special qualities, and frequently show their apprecia-
tion through gestures and comments. Deep knowledge of one another’s
 Energising Games 135

skills, strengths and vulnerabilities enables partners to benignly guide

and shape each other’s feelings and responses.
Treating one another as ‘special’ therefore reassures partners that their
unique needs and desires will be taken into account. As a result, each
becomes more cooperative and eager to please. For example, a person
will be more likely to please a partner if he or she feels regarded as spe-
cial. This ‘wanting to please’ the other is reinforced if trust and respect
are also present and identity-affirming games emphasise these qualities.
Respect is also enhanced if one partner knows that the other values their
unique qualities, and vice versa. The following are phrases, comments
and themes that are typically expressed in this game – again, usually
accompanied by appropriate body language – facial expressions, touch,
eye contact and so on.

‘You are such a thoughtful person’

‘I appreciate what you do/did for me’
‘Others like the way you make them feel important’
‘I know how vulnerable you are’
‘You worry about these things don’t you?’
‘Your inner strength makes you stand out from the crowd’
‘You always stick up for others’
‘I love you for the kind of person you are’
‘You are incomparable/irreplaceable’
‘You’re the kind of person who gets things going/organised’
‘You always raise my spirits/I love your sense of humour’
‘You make me feel special’
‘You always see the best in others’

Appreciation of individuality goes right to the heart of a person’s self-

identity, their own sense of themselves. Thus, reassurances of unique-
ness buttress a person’s sense of realness, authenticity and security in
the world. They also build self-esteem and a readiness to ‘take on’ the
world (other people). Since both security and self-esteem needs are cen-
tral in identity-affirming games then they may become an important
foundation of an energising relationship. Because the personal identi-
ties of the partners are the focal point, they provide a firm anchorage
for emotions such as love and approval.
But an appreciation of a partner’s individuality also feeds into other
elemental feelings and needs. In particular it helps in establishing a per-
son’s competence and efficacy in terms of what they can do and what
they think they can accomplish. An individual must be able to rely on
himself or herself to deal with any life problems that arise. He or she
136 Intimacy and Power

must be confident of making things happen and feels that they are not
simply being ‘pushed around’ by forces beyond their control. Partners
who regularly affirm each other’s individuality, therefore, support one
another’s self-confidence. The message sent out is that both partners are
strong and reliable and can be ‘depended upon’.
Each time a person’s unique qualities are noticed and given attention,
the importance of their independence is underscored. This is crucial
because if a person lacks full independence – that is, if they remain
largely dependent on others for approval, for self-esteem and so on, then
this will tend to upset the balance of power and control in the relation-
ship. Of course, in one sense the pull towards independence would seem
the opposite of companionship, friendship or even romance. But inde-
pendence and togetherness are equally important human needs. We all
need some personal space as well as connectedness with others (Layder
1997, 2004a). However, as individuals, we vary in how much we want
of these things and sometimes this makes it difficult to strike the right
balance. Honouring one another’s special qualities, however, may go
some way towards achieving a working balance because it allows – even
encourages – partners to be clearer about how much they value their
independence (or personal space) as against their need for involvement
and connectedness.
In mutually satisfying intimacy there is some merging of the partners’
identities, in so far as they tend to see themselves as a couple rather than
separate individuals (Perel 2007). But it is equally important that a per-
son’s identity is not lost, confused or swamped by the other’s influence.
Truly energising games require a balance between the independence and
the involvement of the partners (Layder 2004a). Being one’s own person
in terms of what an individual thinks and does, and not simply ‘fitting
in’ with other’s wishes must be balanced by a willingness to accommo-
date partner’s needs and interests. If partners attend to other essential
relationship requirements, such as making time for one another, then
mutual respect and trust will be reaffirmed and gratitude and pleasure
will be generated (Reibstein 1997).
In optimally energising intimacy partners respect and value one
another’s unique identities and personal qualities. Thus identity-
affirming games are crucial since everyone needs to be recognised and
valued for who they are as individuals – their personal identity. How-
ever, there do seem to be differences in terms of which aspects of
individuality are most highly valued. Some individuals tend to value
independence more than involvement and hence it might seem that
they would be more at ease with this game while those who value
togetherness more might be less so. However, it may simply be that
 Energising Games 137

such people favour the ‘independence’ aspects of personal identity

whilst those favouring togetherness focus on identity in terms of the
special contribution it makes to an intimate relationship. Clearly, both
aspects are important for a balanced sense of identity since each stresses
different but complementary aspects of individuality or ‘specialness’.
However, from this angle a stress on ‘independence’ may prevent
a person from properly understanding that intimacy is a good source
of identity support. In this respect those who over-value indepen-
dence may become cut-off or estranged from intimate relationships.
On the other hand, underrating the importance of ‘independence’, as
a source of individuality, may result from an over-valuation of togeth-
erness. Thus, such individuals may lack this as a potential identity
support. Of course, a benefit of valuing involvement and connectedness
is the avoidance of social isolation. In general, identity-affirming games
require attention to both aspects of identity with partners honouring
one another’s special individuality while also balancing the demands of
independence and togetherness.

Empathy games

These games are not about understanding as in ‘understanding’ what

someone is saying. Understanding, here, indicates knowing what makes
a partner ‘tick’ or what fires their passions, how they jell with others. In
this sense, ‘understanding’ enables partners to benignly influence and
control one another through empathy, rapport and emotional attune-
ment (Scheff 1990, Collins 2005). To some extent this overlaps with
identity-affirming games because emotional understanding often goes
hand in hand with appreciating a partner’s special qualities. However,
there are crucial differences. In identity-affirming games the primary
emphasis is on appreciating and understanding individuals for who they
are, whereas in empathy games the emphasis is on understanding them
on the basis of how they feel, on their passions and desires. Understand-
ing a person for ‘who she or he is’ is based on individuality, whereas
being understood in terms of personal feelings is founded on shared
experiences and emotions. The latter are reflected in the following
comments:

‘I understand how you feel’

‘You know why I’m sad’
‘What concerns you, concerns me’
‘We feel the same way about things’
‘You always seem to get on well with others’
138 Intimacy and Power

‘I know what’s going through your mind’

‘We’ve been through so much together’
‘I feel so close to you’
‘I can tell when you’re in a good mood’
‘This kind of thing upsets you’
‘We work well together/we seem to click’
‘I don’t have to ask, I just know how bad you feel’

Such remarks and comments grow out of the shared experiences and
emotional bonding that energise intimate relationships. Combined with
hugging, putting arms round shoulders, kissing, gazing and so on, such
comments convey emotional rapport, support, empathy and attune-
ment. Above all, empathy games depend on how things are said rather
than what is being said (Austin 1962). It’s not only the words themselves
but also the meta-messages of feeling and empathy that are crucial in
conveying that a partner is truly understood. He or she must be con-
vinced that what is said is not simply a string of ‘empty’ words put
together in order to produce an effect – to get him or her ‘on side’, so to
speak. They want to know that what is said is really meant, because their
emotional life is at stake. In order for them to feel valued, appreciated,
loved and cared for, these things must be conveyed authentically and
sincerely.
By engaging in empathy games partners are reaffirming their bond
through experiences, emotions and feelings of pleasure that togeth-
erness can create. At this elemental level deep empathy, frisson and
rapport energise and re-energise intimate relationships. The common
ground of shared feeling is important because it is the fundamental
bedrock of relationships. In fact, it is because of this that differences
in personality, needs and desires can be reconciled or overcome. The
protective emotional wraparound of an intimate bond makes it a secure
refuge that protects us from loneliness. In this sense, empathy games
develop over time as the partners’ shared experiences build up and their
knowledge of one another continues to deepen. But again, it must be
stressed that this is an emotional ‘knowing’ rather than one solely based
on facts and information. The substance of the game, therefore, is deep
knowledge based on mutual self-disclosure.

Altruistic games

Whereas mutual seduction is about ‘giving’ in an emotional sense,

empathy games stress the more practical side of giving although not
 Energising Games 139

entirely in separation from emotional concerns. Whereas mutual seduc-

tion is almost wholly about the emotional side of giving, altruistic games
focus on both its emotional and practical aspects. In this regard the
game is marked out by help and support for one another. Energy is cre-
ated through the impulse to ‘do good’ and work in the best interests of
one another. In turn, these provide a foundation for security, safety and
refuge – in short, the protection afforded by a close relationship. The
game is reflected in the following comments:

‘Our relationship is the most important thing to me’

‘I’m always here for you’/‘you’re always here for me’
‘I know I can depend on you/you know you can depend on me’
‘We make a good team’
‘Together we are stronger’
‘I felt so vulnerable before we became an item/friends’
‘You know I’ll always defend you’ (your honour, reputation, interests)
‘Without your help I wouldn’t have got through this’
‘I appreciate the way you speak up for/support me’
‘I’m so thankful for all you do for me’
‘Please tell me if you need anything’
‘We can overcome this, if we stick together’

In essence, altruistic games celebrate the benefits of togetherness. When

it is played properly, both partners enjoy the protective rewards that
flow from it. Cooperating as a unit is easier because problems are
encountered from behind the security of an alliance rather than ‘fight-
ing them out’ on one’s own. Pleasure and disappointments are experi-
enced jointly and thus their impact is spread around rather than concen-
trated in one person. Being in a relationship means that one’s life agenda
(decisions about where and how one lives, whether or not to have
children, the network of friends and family that one associates with)
are made jointly rather than individually. The benefits that flow from
shared, rather than individual, responsibility highlight the importance
of connectedness over individual ‘differences’. The game stresses the
advantages to be gained from at least partly ‘merging’ one’s individuality
with a partner’s. As long as this ‘fusion’ of selves is ‘in moderation’ it can
add to a person’s security and self-confidence. If it gets out of hand, it
may lead to addictive over-dependence. Another danger, as Perel (2007)
has suggested, is that too much merging may blunt sexual desire.
However, given that the main focus of altruistic games is a blend
of practical and emotional help – how do they differ from empathy
140 Intimacy and Power

games? In the latter emotions do play a role in creating empathy, rap-

port and understanding, but they are primarily about ‘private’ feelings.
With altruistic games the emotions are mainly to do with the protec-
tive alliance (Reibstein 1997) afforded by the relationship. Thus, for
example, comments like ‘I felt so vulnerable before we met’, or ‘I appre-
ciate the way you speak up for me’, focus on partner’s feelings towards
one another – their relationship – rather more than individual, private
feelings.
Supporting a partner when they are under work pressure, or when
they are being criticised or ridiculed are good examples of how a protec-
tive alliance works. By taking a partner’s side even when not in agree-
ment or when we think they are being unreasonable, loyalty and com-
mitment are extended. A ‘we against others’ attitude lets a partner know
that the two of you are in this together (Gottman 2006). This reinforces
his or her sense of security and the value they place on the bond. In such
examples, it is clear that feelings of comfort, pleasure and gratitude stem
more from the alliance itself than from the unique qualities of the part-
ners – although, of course, these do play some role. However, one per-
son’s strength of feeling about sticking together may be rather too much
for someone else. An individual might feel they must protect their per-
sonal space and independence, and this might lead them to neglect the
other’s need for support and connection. A delicate balance is required.

Mutually supportive games

This game brings together elements contained in the other four but it
also has features that they do not have. In one sense it’s the complete
opposite of addictive or co-dependent games which are unremittingly
energy draining. In the latter, partners simply ‘co-exist’ and ‘survive’
in stultifying mutual dependence, rather than genuinely ‘live’ together.
They fear that contact with others might jeopardise the intensity, exclu-
sivity and security of their bond, so they jealously monitor one another’s
behaviour. Mutually supportive games reverse these emphases com-
pletely. Partners encourage one another to freely pursue outside contacts
and interests without fear that this will undermine the relationship. The
game encourages a working balance between partners’ independence
and involvement, rather than a fraught and unhealthy symbiosis. The
game is reflected in the following comments:

‘Let’s not fall into a rut, we should try new things together/separately’
‘You should develop your talents in. . . . music/art/selling’
 Energising Games 141

‘It’s good that we have separate interests even though we are very
close’
‘I’m really happy that you’ve achieved what you set out to’
‘You never stifle my curiosity and I appreciate that’
‘I like the way you encourage me to be independent – even though
you support me as well’
‘I know you value me as an individual and don’t treat me simply
as . . . your dutiful wife/husband/partner’
‘We don’t try to change one another, and we allow each other freedom
and space’
‘I’m glad you like my friends, they’re very important to me’
‘Spending time apart from each other can help us appreciate what we
mean to one another’

Such comments or exchanges suggest similarities with identity-

affirming games in so far as they stress individuality and encourage one
another’s self-development. Equally however, games of mutual support
emphasise the importance of dependence. The game balances depen-
dence on a partner (for love, security, a sense of connection) as well
as independence, in order to satisfy each partner’s interests, desires
and self-development. An over-emphasis on one or the other can only
lead to problems. If partners are too independent then ‘protective love’
(Reibstein 1997) will be overlooked, or even regarded as strange or
pathological.
It is certainly true that protective love plays an important role in
successful relationships – especially in maintaining optimal intimacy.
However, protective love cannot provide everything necessary for good
intimacy. For instance, it cannot replace the importance of the continu-
ing self-development of both partners. Each person must feel ‘satisfied’
with his or her own position in a relationship (what they are getting out
of it, as well as what they are putting into it). Of course, what is meant
by ‘satisfied’ will vary considerably. For example, someone may feel they
take more emotional responsibility in a relationship but are happy to do
so – perhaps in the knowledge that they benefit in other ways. But only
when a person feels they have some say in decisions about relation-
ship issues will they accept certain ‘responsibilities’ and compromises. If
someone feels ‘forced’ to accept a compromise then he or she will begin
to feel taken for granted and, perhaps, begin to detach himself or herself
emotionally.
Superficially, there is a similarity between this game and addictive or
co-dependent games, with partners seeming to constantly monitor one
142 Intimacy and Power

another’s behaviour. However, there is a huge difference in the reasons

for this. In the energy-draining games, the partners are forever alert to
possible disloyalties or threats to the bond, whereas in this one, part-
ners keep an eye on one another for more positive reasons. Instead of
judging one another’s behaviour, partners simply give each other copi-
ous amounts of time and attention. They closely ‘attend to’ what their
partner is doing and saying in order to glean what it might mean for the
relationship. In this sense, partners’ needs, preferences and feelings are
minutely examined and sympathetically supported.
This close attention gives rise to respect and appreciation as well
as pleasure and gratitude from sharing one another’s company. The
partners are continually ‘sampling’ the emotional temperature of the
relationship with a view to giving one another ‘positive strokes’ (Berne
1966) and helping things ‘tick over’ smoothly. Such sampling requires
the use of emotional intelligence (Goleman 1996), in which partners
identify and empathise with one another’s feelings and respond to their
desires and growth needs (Fromm 1971, Maslow 1999). Of course, it
is important that these kinds of caring gestures are a constant feature
of close relationships, because they reduce the likelihood of taking one
another for granted and the resentments this may cause.
Mutually supportive games are not without potential pitfalls. Some-
times an individual’s personal development may result in a growing
apart of the partner’s interests and life goals. This can be made worse
when such personal changes upset the balance of power and control
in a relationship. For example, if one partner becomes more successful
at work, their increased popularity or social status may cause jealousies
and resentments. For the game to remain energised these problems must
be dealt with constructively. Allowing time and space for one another’s
personal growth and self-development may help ensure against such
problems, but in the final analysis there is simply no way of knowing
how personal growth and self-development will work out.

Interweaving games

In a significant sense these five energising games can be understood as

different aspects of ‘dynamic’ or ‘optimal’ intimacy. Thus a mutually
satisfying relationship is one in which all aspects of all the energis-
ing games play an equal and substantial role. If all partners’ needs
are routinely catered for, then the quality of their intimacy will be
of the highest order. This doesn’t mean that such relationships will
always run smoothly. Inevitably, partners have bad moods or display
 Energising Games 143

insensitivities, leading to disagreement or hurt which may be destruc-

tive of intimacy. Milder forms of emotional bullying, manipulation or
blackmail may briefly come to the fore, as tempers flare in the white
heat of the moment. However, a characteristic feature of a mutually sat-
isfying relationship is that ‘selfish’ or ‘bullying’ elements disappear as
quickly as they arrive. Partners deal constructively with such flash points
regarding them as atypical and unwelcome intrusions. They are quick to
recognise their own mistakes and make-up – thus not letting unresolved
conflicts fester into resentments (as ‘old scores’ to be settled in future
disputes).
Games of mutual seduction focus on partner’s needs for love, approval
and acceptance and underpin their personal feelings of safety and
security within the relationship. Identity-affirming games mark out a
partner’s unique ‘special’ features thus acknowledging and respecting
his or her individuality. Empathy games complement these emphases
by focusing on the emotional aspects of individuality – making a part-
ner feel understood in an emotional sense. Altruistic games tap into the
elemental need to feel connected, to be part of a ‘team’ and, in this
sense, protect against isolation or loneliness. Mutually supportive games
encourage partners to develop individually, but balance this with the
‘togetherness’ of intimacy. It is essential that the five games complement
and reinforce each other so as to produce optimal intimacy.

Relationship rules

Intimacy games must be supplemented by more general ‘relationship

rules’ in order to create genuinely satisfying intimacy. The first is that of
simple courtesy. Somewhat paradoxically, it often seems that the closer
people are, the more this rule is flouted or forgotten about. But thanking,
complimenting or supporting each other on a routine day-to-day basis
are crucial for maintaining respect. Unfortunately, intimacy is often
regarded as a reason to neglect small pleasantries, expressions of thanks
and acts of thoughtfulness. It is as if knowing each other so well makes
them unnecessary. But this is a first step towards taking each other for
granted – the ultimate enemy of good intimacy. But failing to say thank
you for a small favour like a meal or a cup of tea, or cleaning the dishes,
can lead to an erosion of respect and a build up of resentment (Reibstein
1997). To keep a relationship alive, being pleasant, tactful, civil, polite
and kind is crucial. The standards by which partners are treated must
be the same as those normally applied to strangers or work colleagues
(Templar 2006).
144 Intimacy and Power

A second relationship rule emphasises the importance of keeping in

touch with each other through talk – the ‘keep talking rule’. First and
most obviously, talking is an important way of keeping a relationship
‘going’, of keeping it fresh and alive, whereas habitual silence or non-
communication leads to difficulties in relationships. When problems are
not shared or talked through, they become amplified (Templar 2006:
128). Not sharing feelings through talk limits the points of connection
between partners and inhibits the exploration of new ways of relating.
Of course, sometimes silence is appropriate, especially when it signals a
kind of sharing that doesn’t require words. But silence can indicate lack
of interest or excitement in one’s partner or the relationship. Without
doubt, sharing feelings and experiences is more important for sustaining
good intimacy than talking about gas bills or whose turn it is to walk the
dog. Talking simply to fill up ‘awkward’ silences will not do either. Talk
must be purposive to keep a bond vibrant.
Being courteous and enquiring about other’s feelings exemplify a third
essential relationship rule, that of ‘making an effort’. The willingness
to ‘make an effort’ adds to the passion, enthusiasm and strength of an
intimate bond (Templar 2006: 124). Without this drive to do a bit extra
for the sake of the relationship, there will inevitably be a tendency to
fall into the trap of taking one another for granted – and is the mortal
enemy of good intimacy.
Finally, the rule of respecting privacy is essential for a successful rela-
tionship because partners have to be strong together and strong apart
(Templar 2006: 114). Allowing a partner their freedom and indepen-
dence entails respecting their dignity and privacy and, in turn, enhances
trust in a relationship.

Energising rules, energising games

General relationship rules play an important role in energising games.

All five games complement and reinforce one another by focusing on
different emotional and identity needs. As long as these five continue
to play important roles intimacy will be optimal. All five games can-
not be played with equal emphasis and intensity all the time, but
overall there must be some (roughly balanced) attention to each of
them. Nevertheless, there will be an uneven emphasis on particular
games during the lifetime of a relationship. In a sense each game is
a separate stream which, when combined with the others, creates an
embracing, energising ‘river’ binding partners together. Each game con-
tributes to the collective reservoir of energy that underpins mutually
 Energising Games 145

satisfying intimacy. But if one (or several) of the games is absent, then
the collective strength and flow of energy will be weakened and the rela-
tionship will hit trouble. When its tributary streams of energy dry up
and peter out, so the overall energy levels fall. The relationship becomes
de-energised, and intimacy deteriorates – as when ‘dynamic’ intimacy
becomes ‘episodic’ or ‘semi-detached’.
10
The Erosion of Intimacy

All intimate relationships have their troubles and testing times. None
are immune from periods in which partners feel that they aren’t getting
what they hoped for from the arrangement. Usually, these are ‘normal’
crises from which the partners recover quickly and resume ‘business as
usual’. Even the very best of intimate relationships encounters such rou-
tine ‘turbulence’. However, other problems may be more traumatic and
severely test the resolve of the partners. How are these problems cre-
ated and what consequences do they have? This chapter traces how the
unravelling or disappearance of energising games can lead to the down-
grading of a relationship – in particular from ‘dynamic’ to ‘episodic’ and
‘semi-detached’ intimacy.

That sinking feeling

In the last two chapters it was suggested that dynamic intimacy is

the outcome of five energising games working together in a loose, but
coherent manner. So in a sense describing how energising games oper-
ate together is also a way of understanding the processes involved in
dynamic intimacy. It is probably true to say that many intimate rela-
tionships begin life like this with the partners intending and hoping to
keep it that way. Unfortunately, for a host of reasons it is also highly
probable that sooner or later a great many such relationships fail in
this respect. Interestingly, the vast majority of these relationships aren’t
completely destroyed, but rather, they slowly but surely deteriorate,
becoming emotionally flat and de-energised.
Sometimes both partners are aware of the miserable state they have
fallen into and are unhappy and dissatisfied. Just as often, they have
little idea why it has come to this, or what they can do to get the

146
 The Erosion of Intimacy 147

relationship back on track. Frequently, even though both may be aware

that something is drastically wrong, problems and issues remain unac-
knowledged. Resentments, frustrations and dissatisfactions build up and
stay unresolved with both partners living in a sort of quiet desperation.
They are resigned to remaining stuck in the relationship either because
they can see no alternative or because they are unwilling or unable to
do anything about their predicament.
But it may be that one person is prepared to accept things that their
partner finds difficult to live with – such as not talking about feelings, or
refusing to tackle recurrent problems or ‘sensitive’ issues. Whether the
relationship continues to ‘plod along’, rather than implode, depends
on whether the dissatisfied partner is willing to live with the compro-
mises that accompany the status quo, and/or whether they can summon
up the courage to break free. Quite often a partner who is dissatisfied
cannot see a way through, and remains in a state of inertia. Neverthe-
less, despite different levels of tolerance, both partners are trapped in an
impoverished relationship.
Sometimes the inertia that keeps a relationship together stems from
anxiety and fear of being on one’s own. Thus any tie, no matter how
unsatisfactory, is thought to be better than none at all. Also, individuals
may lack confidence about attracting another partner – and so are pre-
pared to tolerate their plight. Staying with an unsatisfying but known
present is preferable to facing an unknown future in which anything
might happen. The upheaval and uncertainty associated with breaking
away may be overwhelming, especially for longstanding relationships.
Partners may feel too old to start over, or have binding financial commit-
ments, or children that make it difficult to make a clean break. Whether
or not dissatisfactions are equally shared, and whatever the reasons for
them, it is doubtless true that such relationships are no longer mutually
satisfying. While not imploding completely, many are badly damaged
and consequently slide into ‘episodic’ or ‘semi-detached’ intimacy. The
next section describes what is involved in this gradual unravelling of
energising games.

Which focus: Person or relationship?

In Figure 10.1 above each of the energising games is lined up against

its main theme and focus. A useful starting point for examining eroding
intimacy is to distinguish between energising games that attend more to
the way the partners treat each other as individuals, as compared with
those that focus on the nature of their bond. This distinction is more a
148 Intimacy and Power

Game Theme Focus

(1) Mutual seduction Love, approval and Bond
games acceptance
(2) Identity-affirming Individuality Person
games
(3) Empathy games Emotional understanding Person
(4) Altruistic games Protection of the bond Bond
(5) Mutually supportive Balance of independence Person and Bond
games and dependence

Figure 10.1 Game focus and theme

matter of emphasis than a clear distinction because both elements are

involved in all the games.
Games of mutual seduction tend to emphasise the bond because
they focus on partners’ concerns with social attachment. That is, on
how partners’ needs for approval and acceptance motivate them to join
together as a team, despite any obvious differences in personality, tastes,
opinions. In other words, such games centre mainly on things affecting
commitment to the relationship. By contrast, identity-affirming games
emphasise partner’s individual characteristics – those special facets of
their personal identities that are the basis of their attraction for each
other. They focus on the extent to which they respect (or resent) each
other’s personal qualities rather than joint or team qualities.
In these respects empathy games are similar to identity-affirming
games. They centre on partners’ appreciation of each other’s unique
individuality. On the other hand, altruistic games have more in com-
mon with mutual seduction in that primary attention is on the strength
of the bond and the practical and emotional protection it provides.
Games of mutual support, however, stand alone, since their focus is
shared equally between individuality and teamwork. Thus while they
support self-development, at the same time, they also stress mutual
dependence.

Unravelling games, undoing intimacy

The significance of these emphases is clearer when we examine more

closely the move from dynamic to episodic or semi-detached inti-
macy (bearing in mind, a relationship may deteriorate further into
pretence, or manipulated intimacy). If eroding intimacy involves the
unravelling of the energising games that make it up, then episodic
 The Erosion of Intimacy 149

and semi-detached intimacy represent way stations in this process. For

example, in episodic intimacy those games emphasising personal factors
rather than the bond (games 2, 3 and 5) are unravelling and disappear-
ing from partners’ everyday routines, whilst in semi-detached intimacy
they have all but vanished altogether.
The changes are triggered because the personal connection between
the partners becomes strained when intimacy erodes. They become
more reserved and guarded in their emotional responses. Respect, trust,
loyalty and mutual understanding are undermined and disillusionment
sets in. Either one or both partners feel the other is no longer the person
to whom they were once attracted. Appreciating, having special feel-
ings for, and thinking of the other as ‘special’ virtually disappear. While
games 2, 3 and 5 unravel as dynamic intimacy gives way to episodic
or semi-detached forms, games 1 and 4 (focusing on the bond) ‘come
undone’ in a very different manner. They continue to play a role in the
relationship although their nature alters considerably.
Let us examine these changes. In dynamic intimacy mutual seduction
is about general acceptance and caring although the game focuses on the
need for the bond itself rather than on the special feelings partners have
for each other. Of course, this is a matter of emphasis, but at this point
in eroding intimacy the maintenance of the bond is more important
than their love and respect for each other as individuals. Much the same
is true for altruistic games, which allow partners to fit together as team
members rather than as ‘independent’ individuals. In this sense, helping
one another and being kind and supportive are primarily about invest-
ing loyalty and trust in the relationship. Such attitudes and responses
reaffirm the protective benefits derived from being in a couple or team.
However, when intimacy is ‘on the slide’, these games (1 and 4) also
undergo subtle changes in character. First, the emotional significance of
the games is hollowed out. Partners begin to either drift away from each
other unknowingly, or deliberately withdraw psychological investment
in the bond. Instead of expressing genuine affection, care, support, loy-
alty and so on, these games convey the message that ‘our relationship
remains strong’. In fact, the relationship is increasingly strained as real
feelings are replaced by artificial ‘public’ displays of affection.
Pseudo-affection steadily takes over the personal and emotional con-
tent of these games while the bond continues to be important for
both partners, even in the face of depreciating intimacy. Paradoxically,
because neither partner yet wants to break completely from the relation-
ship, the changes in emotional tenor of games 1 and 4 are accompanied
by the increasing significance of the protective benefits of the bond.
Until the relationship hits rock bottom it is common for both partners
150 Intimacy and Power

to want to retain some team benefits such as companionship, financial

assistance and practical help. Such ‘benefits’ may even stretch to using
the relationship as a safe harbour for exploring emotional or sexual
affairs. One or both partners may settle for a less than satisfactory rela-
tionship because of low confidence or self-esteem, lack of options, fear of
change, financial or emotional commitments (say to children), or even
perhaps, in some cases, because of pity for one’s partner.
Of course, as long as both partners remain convinced of the bene-
fits of staying together then this will form an outer limit to the erosion
of intimacy. But the tipping point will arrive if the process continues
unchecked. For example, if tension and conflict reach a point where
partners find it impossible to communicate productively with each
other then minimal protection or emotional comfort no longer serves as
an excuse for staying together. The partners may become ‘trapped’ in the
relationship with no emotional or empathic connection between them.
Semi-detached intimacy may sink further down into pure pretence. This
process can be further clarified by restating some of the main features of
episodic and semi-detached intimacy. These are summarised below.

Episodic intimacy
(1) Intimacy is intermittent and less intense.
(2) Emotional energy and commitment are partly withdrawn.
(3) Relationship is based on compromises and routines.
(4) Intimacy used selectively to manage problems of emotional drift
and estrangement (e.g. sex as substitute for emotional disclosure).
(5) Disclosure is less authentic:

(a) Partners ‘engage at a distance’ with minimal trust and sincerity.

(b) Partners selectively withhold their feelings.

(6) Original partner is no longer the sole anchor of trust or sole source
of emotional satisfaction.
(7) Restrained intimacy allows more personal space and independence.

Semi-detached intimacy
(1) Frustrated desire for greater closeness.
(2) Concealed anger and unspoken resentments.
(3) Emotional withdrawal and drift because of concealed anger and
unspoken resentments.
(4) Relationship of convenience, produced by inertia and/or lack of
alternatives.
 The Erosion of Intimacy 151

(5) Disclosure is rare or entirely absent. Partners going through the

motions without the emotional rewards. Minimal emotional com-
mitment.
(6) Relationship still offers some ‘protection’ although constantly
threatened by emotional and sexual infidelity.
(7) Partner’s focus of attention shifts away from relationship. Trust and
sincerity, at a bare minimum. Deception, insincerity and mistrust
grow in importance.

Personal control and emotional blocking

Changes in interpersonal control play a huge part in the unravelling

of energising games and the emotional blocking that usually accompa-
nies this process. This section outlines the main reasons for emotional
blocking, and the cycles of misunderstanding and emotional drift that
entrap partners, causing relationships to self-destruct. The cycle may
begin as a response to a relationship problem such as a clash of com-
munication styles, disagreements (over practical or emotional issues),
personality incompatibilities and so on. Over time, misunderstandings,
clashes and arguments grow into long chains of muddled and confus-
ing exchanges between partners, leading them to disvalue (even ‘reject’)
each other’s points of view. By not fully appreciating what each is trying
to do or say, both partners may begin to filter out (not listen to, or hear)
what the other is actually saying. This may concern not only incidental
chitchat but also crucial emotional issues such as the expression of inti-
macy needs. Instead of talking to each other, partners tend to talk past
one another, ignoring important intimacy pleas and deeply felt wishes
and desires.
In a similar manner, if partners’ intimacy needs conflict this can lead
to tension, conflict and misunderstandings about what they want or are
prepared to accept. For example, one partner’s (excessive) dependency or
approval needs may lead the other to cut off, or withdraw. But this may
simply create greater ‘neediness’ and result in further misunderstanding.
Clashes caused by different sources of conflict often combine, increas-
ing their impact on relationship troubles. They may kick-start a process
in which confusing messages lead partners to hold back emotionally
because they are unsure of the other’s intentions and behaviour. Uncer-
tainty reduces their confidence about ‘making a difference’ and with it
they lose some of the intensity of their connection with one another.
Once this happens the scene is set for further emotional withdrawal.
152 Intimacy and Power

Actual, or ‘felt’, loss of personal control and influence turns tenta-

tive withdrawal into fully-fledged emotional blockage. Positive feelings
are slowly but surely replaced by negative, energy-draining behaviour.
Frustration, irritation and anger at being unable to influence a partner’s
behaviour may quickly lead to bickering, disillusionment and disap-
pointment. Communication blockage simply reinforces these trends
because the chain of unresolved disagreements and arguments are piled
on top of each other. Partners feel disengaged and their misunderstand-
ings and differences become entrenched.
Feelings of control loss begin as soon as the first cycle of events ends.
With each cycle the partners become more embittered, inhibited and
helpless. They find they can’t make the effort to turn things around, and
are thoroughly de-energised. Their emotional drifting apart means that
they are well on the way to complete estrangement seemingly with no
way back. Each cycle of events simply reinforces the effects of previous
ones and intimacy is set on an ever-downward course. This is exactly
what happens when a relationship shifts from dynamic into episodic
and semi-detached intimacy. The loss of interpersonal control experi-
enced by one or both partners opens the door to the negative energy
created by more manipulative and self-serving strategies.

Learning not to talk to one another

A closer examination of this cycle reveals that emotional ‘blocking’,

communication breakdown and declining mutual influence are linked
to the development of ‘bad’ relationship habits. One of the most com-
mon and destructive of these is the habit of not talking to each other.
The process often happens in a subtle and gradual manner over lengthy
periods of time. Partners may (and usually do) start off from a position
in which they talk fairly regularly about their relationship, their hopes,
wishes and fears and so on. They may not be good at revealing their feel-
ings, and their exchanges may not be the most intense or meaningful,
but they do talk, thus keeping lines of communication open.
However, somewhere down the line the ability to connect with one
another breaks down and there is a gradual retreat from talk (particu-
larly about feelings) as a way of being close. This typically happens even
where intimacy remains strong, as partners habituate to each other over
time (Perel 2007). Each feels able to predict what the other is thinking
and what they will say even before they actually do so. In this sense each
feels there is less need to talk since each knows each other so well and
that there is no point in constantly going over the same ground. But
 The Erosion of Intimacy 153

this is a bad idea even in the best of relationships. Partners must remain
‘in touch’ both superficially, as well as in a deeper sense, to check out
the validity of their assumptions about each other. A relationship will
die unless it is ‘worked at’ through the regular exchange and updating
of feelings and opinions through talk.
If this kind of habituation (getting to know each other ‘too well’) is
coupled with misunderstandings, clashes of styles or mismatching inti-
macy needs, then there is even less incentive for partners to talk. The
same arguments and disputes will tend to be repeated over and over
again, each time with little in the way of resolution or greater under-
standing. This makes individuals all too aware of their powerlessness –
their inability to make a difference to their partner’s views or behaviour.
Over countless instances of such deadlock, they come to regard talk
(and communication in general) as a pointless exercise. Of course, such
a vacuum is likely to produce a festering wound, because important
things are being left unsaid. Crucial feelings are not expressed, and in
their wake leave a trail of misassumptions and ill feelings that remorse-
lessly accumulate over time. But partners caught up in chains of hurtful
misunderstanding are also entangled in the cycle of events described ear-
lier. Their lack of influence on each other simply reinforces their hurt,
frustration and resentments.
Another reason why the ‘keep talking’ rule often disappears from a
relationship agenda is that certain topics – especially emotional or sex-
ual ones – become taboo, giving rise to mutual inhibition. This may
happen if one partner is already sensitive, fearful or inhibited about
expressing feelings, or directly talking about intimacy. If a person rou-
tinely tries to talk about them, but is met with reluctance or steadfast
refusal, an imbalance is created in the relationship. Over time the more
enthusiastic partner may also become ‘sympathetically’ inhibited as he
or she realises that their partner is chronically anxious or shy about
talking about intimate topics. After a number of failed attempts at dis-
cussion, talk in general may be abandoned eventually because of the
embarrassment it causes all round. Again, feelings of powerlessness
create further emotional and communication blockage.
In addition, once off the agenda a sensitive issue becomes even more
highly charged, precisely because it may not be broached. Its very
‘unapproachable’ nature makes it seem more important. As a result spe-
cific problems are intensified because they are left un-addressed and
unresolved. The emotional and communication blockage prevents the
regular injection of positive energy and positive emotions necessary for
closeness. The build up of frustration, irritation and anger, hopelessness,
154 Intimacy and Power

failure and disillusionment can only lead to the more or less permanent
estrangement of the partners.

Displaced arguments

When intimacy is under threat emotional blocking may actually cause

arguments and conflict. Partners may be sidetracked by seemingly unre-
lated problems instead of tackling the real ones. In this sense the ‘topic’
of the argument may have nothing to do with the underlying causes.
But when intimacy erodes arguments are usually about thwarted desire
and/or the consequences of emotional blocking. Bickering, arguing and
sniping often become an accepted way of relating to each other, while
problems remain unresolved in the war of attrition.

Conflict styles and eroding intimacy

When intimacy is on the slide, certain conflict styles can only make
things worse. For example, in the ‘high-level attack’ (Quilliam 2001, see
Chapter 6) a person explosively vents their anger at the other in a crit-
ical tirade. Because this is an off-loading of venom rather than a true
exchange of feelings, it offers little chance of any meaningful dialogue.
In this sense high-level attacks perpetuate a war of words that has little
to do with real relationship problems. Similarly, in the ‘retreat’ style a
person simply removes himself or herself from a conflict situation and
refuses to engage in discussion or dialogue. In effect, ‘retreaters’ deny
their own feelings as well their partner’s and only worsen any emotional
and communication blockage. Both ‘high-level attacks’ and ‘retreat’ are
particularly destructive of energising games that target individuality,
and emotional understanding (games 2 and 3).
‘Appeasement’ in which a partner backs off from disagreement and
denies her or his own feelings is also rather negative in this respect. But
because it does not involve an attack on partners’ integrity it may work
to shore up, rather than undermine, a relationship. Instead, appease-
ment may allow individuals to enjoy the protective benefits of the
bond, even though they may be emotionally withdrawn. However, if
used too frequently, appeasement may lead to hopelessness, despair and
depression. This is because the suppression of agency and self-efficacy
on which appeasement is based is closely linked to the cycle of emo-
tional blocking. Low-level attacks, such as nagging, complaining, being
contemptuous and emotional blackmail, similarly, don’t involve empa-
thy or connection. They solely reflect the perpetrator’s interests and
 The Erosion of Intimacy 155

demands and are a constant threat to emotional understanding (game

3) and self-identity (game 2). Usually low-level attackers feel powerless
or fearful that they might lose what little they have. The attacks are a
rather ineffectual attempt to claw back a sense of control by blaming a
partner for the failings of the relationship.
High- and low-level attacks, appeasement and retreat (often found in
episodic or semi-detached intimacy) may either fuel the cycle of con-
trol loss and emotional blocking or be adopted in response to particular
events or phases in the cycle. These conflict styles contrast sharply with
‘win-win’ arguments in that they inhibit the exchange of feelings, views
and ideas. In some instances there are no arguments at all because
partners back away from intense feelings.

Unravelling intimacy and game strategies

In mutually satisfying intimacy partners often refer to themselves as a

‘unit’ or ‘couple’ rather than as individuals (games 1 and 4). This serves
several purposes. It publicly announces the importance placed on their
‘relationship’ and implies that others should treat them accordingly. Per-
haps more significantly, it is a reminder to themselves that they are a
unit, bond or team, and not independent individuals. It is also a prac-
tical demonstration of their union, closeness and involvement. Such
declarations of togetherness pump energy into those games (1 and 4)
that support the bond.
Of course, closeness and unity vary over time. When intimacy is vis-
ibly declining or under threat, it is no accident that presumptions of
unity are regularly contested or questioned. For example, if one person
simply assumes their partner will fall into line with their wishes, say by
accepting a dinner invitation on their behalf, or suggesting that they
are agreed on some issue – without bothering to check, the other may
respond by saying ‘well you may want to do such and such, but I don’t’,
or ‘you may think that, but I have a different opinion’. Hasty reasser-
tions of independence will follow if partners are uncomfortable about
being limited to, or eclipsed by, their partner’s agenda.
Clearly, as intimacy declines, so does personal and emotional com-
mitment. Increasingly, partners get what they want from each other
by using emotionally neutral strategies like clear-cut trade-offs and
bargains. Trade-offs and bargains require less full-on sincerity and trust,
and thus fit well with episodic and semi-detached intimacy. Neverthe-
less, some ‘phoney seduction’ finds a role where there is emotional
156 Intimacy and Power

drift – such as using sex to buy favours, or forgiveness – since it also

entails ‘soft’ manipulation.
Satisfying intimacy thrives on the continual renewal of emotional
commitments, obligations and responsibilities. Many relationships fall
apart because partners are either not aware of this, or just not prepared
to invest the time and effort required. When intimacy erodes and games
unravel, partners back away from emotion work because they are unsure
about its significance and uncertain about whether they can make a
difference. But backing away wrecks the fragile emotional balance of
dynamic intimacy. Because of its delicacy, such intimacy can all too
easily be destroyed in the rough and tumble of everyday existence.

The problem of habituation

Perhaps the biggest problems for intimacy stem from habituation – get-
ting to know one another deeply, perhaps too well, over time. This is
inevitable in any longstanding relationship, but if it isn’t carefully han-
dled, it can be the ruin of close relationships. In many cases the effects of
habituation are made worse by differences or changes in partner’s inti-
macy needs. One of the trickiest problems is finding the right balance
between independence and involvement (Miller 1995, Layder 1997,
Perel 2007). This raises very sensitive emotional issues that require subtle
handling at the best of times – if, indeed, partners are willing to confront
them in the first place. For example, a partner might demand more space
and time to himself or herself at various points, while their ‘needier’
partner may resist such ‘pressure’. Tensions around this dilemma can
escalate causing great harm to both partners.
Perhaps most damage is done by the growing over-familiarity of part-
ners who come to know one another so thoroughly that they no longer
hold the same fascination or interest. If partners are aware of the danger
of taking each other for granted, they may make a concerted effort to
counter its effects. For example, they might show greater appreciation
of the trust and dependability that come from familiarity. In fact, these
may provide comfort and stability for the relationship – giving rise to
such sentiments as ‘I love him (or her) because I know him (or her) so
well’, ‘I know where I am with them’, ‘I don’t have to guess what they
want or need, I already know’.
The down side of knowing a partner too well is boredom and pre-
dictability, because he or she never does anything that is surprising or
exciting (Perel 2007). Partners may have traits and habits that are irritat-
ing, and in this sense, familiarity literally breeds contempt. As a result, in
 The Erosion of Intimacy 157

some longstanding relationships, partners feel the need to spend more

time apart, pursuing different interests and agendas. They begin to drift
apart creating more personal space and freedom. This is often the case
with episodic or semi-detached intimacy when partners decide to follow
different paths while remaining ‘together’. Sometimes, however, part-
ners drift apart in an emotional sense because there is nothing to hold
them together. They don’t particularly want this and don’t really know
why it has happened, but they feel helpless and powerless to stop it.
Both ‘natural’ and ‘unwanted drift’ clearly illustrate the changes in
games 1 and 4. The team aspects of a relationship are emotionally
neutralised when dynamic intimacy fades into episodic and semi-
detached forms. However, neither partner entirely gives up on the
relationship itself since it still gives some protection. And although in
semi-detached intimacy respect for individuality disappears almost com-
pletely, elements of games 1 and 4 remain in vestigial form and keep the
relationship together in a purely practical way.
Once a relationship has survived the initial period of getting to know
each other and has ‘bedded-in’, so to speak, the dangers of taking each
other for granted are even greater. If partners feel they have exhausted
the exploration of one another’s personalities, capabilities and poten-
tials, they may begin to assume that there is nothing ‘new’ to find
out. This assumption strikes directly at the heart of one of the most
important of intimacy needs to feel special and understood.

Marriage and children

The problems posed by habituation are ever present (and become more
important the longer a relationship survives), thus it could be said to
be the ‘master’ problem for intimacy. That is, because it influences and
envelops other more particular problems, it also conditions them. For
example, the issue of frustrated intimacy needs can be made worse by
habituation, as can problems around marriage and children. Emotional
drift may be exacerbated by the stresses and strains that attend childrea-
ring. Different strains and tensions may overlay one another, making
the overall problem all the more difficult.
With the addition of children, marriage (or cohabitation) this can
prove testing for intimacy. Couples sometimes have difficulties with
loyalty issues in moving from their birth families to marital or cohabita-
tion partnerships. Questions about whose needs – parents or partners –
should be given priority become problematic (Reibstein 1997). Is it fea-
sible or fair to spend more time with parents (say, looking after them if
158 Intimacy and Power

they are ill), than caring for your partner when they are most vulnerable
(say, after starting a new job in a new town)?
Reibstein (1997) suggests that the question of divided loyalties is most
pressing at the beginning of marriage or cohabitation, because individ-
uals are, perhaps, still uncertain about how much their partner wants
and needs them. But there seems no good reason why the problems
around divided loyalty should be pertinent only to the early part of a
relationship. Such issues can roll on from year to year and never be sat-
isfactorily resolved. In relationships that oscillate between episodic and
semi-detached intimacy, partners are sensitive about the authenticity
and stability of their ‘loyalties’ to each other. In these cases, recurrent
charges that ‘you think more about your parents than me’ or ‘everyone
else comes before me’ may become part of an established repertoire of
harboured grudges that surface in bouts of bickering and sniping.
For men, a particular problem arises as a result of feeling displaced
by the arrival of a child, who claims the attention and affections of
their mother, and moves the focus for intimacy away from husbands/
partners. Some men feel pushed to the margins of family life. As Reib-
stein (1997: 155) notes, ‘the frequency and satisfaction with sex declines
sharply in the early years of having children . . . with the concomitant
decline in intimacy’. Couples, especially men, often feel pushed apart by
this. Men may develop more distant emotional relationships with their
wives/partners. Of course, this can breed dissatisfactions and strains in
relationships, which, before children, were close.
The middle years of parenthood, when children become more inde-
pendent and begin to leave, is another sensitive period for partners.
They now have more time to spend with each other, but if they do
not use the increased time to refocus on each other – to ‘get to know’
one another again – it sends out a message that they have a low priority
for one another. Even if this is not actually said or implied, it is a tacit
‘void’ in the relationship that has massive emotional resonance. It is a
time when partners may realise that they don’t have (or no longer have)
as much in common as they thought.
Their disappointment and lack of connection in these years may lead
to emotional and communication blockages. More seriously, but typical
of semi-detached intimacy, partners may begin to search for satisfac-
tion outside the bond. So in the post-children phase of a relationship
emotional estrangement may increase as partners find that they want to
spend less and less time together. They may become disillusioned with
the ‘quality’ of the relationship and disappointed that they won’t be
spending their later years looking after, and caring for each other.
 The Erosion of Intimacy 159

Turning points and crises

Clearly, partners have little control over unforeseen critical incidents

such as illnesses, deaths, losing jobs, bankruptcies, disabling accidents.
Such incidents can severely test a relationship at the best of times, but
they can be particularly damaging when coupled with eroding inti-
macy. Other turning points and crises may arise from clashing styles or
mismatching personalities or intimacy needs. Of course, partners may
not be aware of these problems at the start of a relationship so their
destructive effects may take a while to make themselves felt. They may
develop into crises, which either cause an ‘upward spiral’ (Reibstein
1997) towards reconciliation and closeness, or down towards further
erosion.
Frequently crises emerge because a partner’s personal development
precipitates a split in interests, friends, goals and plans. Typically, part-
ners change over time or simply fall out of love (the influence of
habituation). Although there may be no bad feelings, difficult deci-
sions may have to be made about whether to stay together. But changes
may also occur as the result of conscious attempts at self-development.
For example, upgrading educational or occupational skills may prise
partners apart. Such personal growth may boost a person’s power and
self-confidence, but may also alter the balance of power in a relationship
making it difficult for partners to adjust.

Whither intimacy?

Eroding intimacy is not necessarily a one-way street – sometimes it her-

alds the resuscitation of a faltering relationship. However, in many cases
partners ‘fall out of love’, ‘lead lives of quiet desperation’, or ‘are trapped
in an unhappy marriage’. Such eventualities are reflected in remarks
and comments such as ‘I’ve lost respect (trust) for’ or ‘loyalty to him
or her’, ‘I’m being taken for granted’, ‘we are drifting apart’ and so
on. Such comments indicate a slide from dynamic through episodic,
to semi-detached intimacy – sometimes even further into the pretence,
oppressive or manipulative types.
11
The Nature of Modern Intimacy

At this point it is appropriate to return to the issue of the nature of

modern intimacy by comparing the account developed in Chapters 2–10
with that of the ‘pure relationship’ (Giddens 1992, Beck and Beck-
Gernsheim 1995). On the basis of evidence presented in Chapter 2
modern couple intimacy is not uniform and unitary and thus the pure
relationship overlooks its finer gradations and complexities. The typol-
ogy of couple intimacy in Chapter 2 depicts it as plural, nuanced and
empirically variable. This chapter pursues some further implications of
this view of intimacy and focuses on issues central to an evaluation
of the explanatory relevance and adequacy of the concept of the pure
relationship. These issues include interpersonal power and control, self-
disclosure, trust, commitment, sexual and emotional satisfaction, and
the question of the ‘fragility’ of modern intimacy. First, let me briefly
recap on the overall account of couple intimacy developed thus far.

Interpersonal control

Perhaps the major difference between the account of couple intimacy

presented here and that associated with the pure relationship centres
on the role played by interpersonal power, control and influence. Nei-
ther Giddens (1992) nor Beck and Beck-Gernsheim (1995) assign any
importance to the influence of the interpersonal domain on intimacy,
whereas it is central to the present account. ‘Dynamic’ (‘mutually satis-
fying’) intimacy depends, in the main, on benign control and influence
although elements of soft manipulation and self-interest also play a
role. However, partner’s power and control positions remain flexible,
never becoming fixed or frozen so that one partner is dominant. There
are labile (and sometimes potentially volatile) alternations of power,

160
 The Nature of Modern Intimacy 161

influence and control within such relationships. However, in order for

the relationship to remain stable, partners must retain a felt sense of
control and influence over the relationship.
Mutual satisfaction is thwarted to the extent that benign control
becomes displaced by ‘harder’ manipulation and exploitation – and
this tends to go hand in hand with the emergence of relatively fixed
power positions. Thus ‘dynamic’ (mutually satisfying) intimacy deteri-
orates in direct proportion to the loss of mutual benign control, as one
or both partners begin to realise that they no longer have a felt sense
of control and influence in the relationship. In this sense interpersonal
control contributes to the confluent influences of other social domains
(see Chapters 5 and 12). In direct contrast to the pure relationship, this
account suggests that the combined influence of these domains gen-
erates different types of intimacy – dynamic, episodic, semi-detached,
manipulative, pretence and oppressive intimacy.

Variation in couple intimacy

Modern couple intimacy is plural, complex and multidimensional and,

thus, different types of intimacy are linked with variable forms of dis-
closure, commitment, satisfaction, trust and so on. In turn, these are
associated with differences in personal strategies and styles of intimacy,
conflict and communication styles and types of intimacy games. Couple
intimacy is habitual, rule-guided behaviour founded on interpersonal
control and influence. Mutual benign control is essential for the satis-
faction of psycho-emotional needs – although discord and disharmony
are never completely eliminated from even the best relationships. Rela-
tionships that rely on manipulation, dominance or exploitation repress
or deny partners’ rights, interests, needs or desires. Discrete clusters of
relationship habits – rules, styles, skills and strategies and ploys – give
rise either to energising intimacy games with their positive emotions
and mutual satisfaction, or to energy-draining games, with negative
emotions and damaged intimacy.
‘Dynamic’ intimacy contains elements from each of five energising
games (whereas in semi-detached intimacy energising games are fast
unravelling, while the episodic type alternates between mutual benign
and ‘harder’ manipulative control). In dynamic intimacy energising
games help satisfy psycho-emotional needs – although the partners
themselves must have the requisite intimacy skills (such as empathy,
emotional rapport, ability to decipher meta-messages and so on). ‘Con-
structive conflict’, in which arguments are used to solve problems, is
162 Intimacy and Power

essential, although often elements of appeasement and retreat are also

present.
In energising games partners get what they want from one another by
using strategies ranging from clearly defined agreements such as ‘deals
and pacts’, the charisma of ‘personal magnetism’ to diffuse emotional
entanglements (as in ‘persuasive’, ‘gift’ and ‘deep knowledge seduc-
tion’). All require ‘emotion work’, that is, partners’ efforts to finesse their
relationship by taking one another’s feelings into account. Different
clusters of elements underpin the different energising games. Games of
mutual seduction and altruism focus on the bond and serve to reinforce
partners’ unity and togetherness. Identity-affirming and empathy games
focus more on individuality and an appreciation of partner’s special
qualities. Games of mutual support place equal emphasis on individ-
uals and their bond by encouraging personal development at the same
time as placing a high value on teamwork.
A move down through ‘dynamic’, to ‘episodic’, to ‘semi-detached’
intimacy may be followed by an eventual return to dynamic (or
episodic) intimacy. Thus, it may be a part of what Reibstein describes as
‘upward and downward spirals’ (1997: 145–64) in loving relationships.
‘Downward spirals’ may be precipitated by ‘obstacles’ and ‘transition
points’ – such as different phases of child rearing, illness, disability, the
unexpected loss of a job, or partners growing apart in their interests or
as a consequence of being taken for granted. Upward spirals occur when
couples overcome their problems either through their own efforts or
through counselling.
Alternatively, the transition from dynamic to episodic to semi-
detached intimacy may signify the (gradual or sudden) dissolution of
a close relationship (which may eventually end up as pretence, manip-
ulated or oppressive intimacy). In such a case partners become more
self-centred and manipulative, ‘stealing’ control and energy by emo-
tional bullying and blackmail. The withdrawal of respect and courtesy
undermines mutual satisfaction as much as cynical deception, and
manipulation. Conflict styles which create clear winners and losers
such as high-level attacks and pre-emptive strikes are common, as are
low-level attacks such as nagging and whingeing.
Partners adopt intimacy styles that best fit their feelings. Someone
who feels vulnerable or insecure may give away power to protect him-
self or herself. Even more ill-advisedly, such a person may try to ‘rescue’
a partner who is dangerously flawed. On the other hand, an individ-
ual may seek more power through the creation of dependency in his
or her partner by employing phoney seduction, emotional blackmail
or emotional terrorism. In energy-draining games the matching or
 The Nature of Modern Intimacy 163

mismatching of partners’ need profiles is central to the emotional

tenor of the games they play. In manipulative and ego-centred games
partners seek to dominate the relationship. In games of attrition and
emotional withholding, lack of respect for partners’ special qualities
is frequently expressed as active dislike and/or disapproval. Addic-
tive and co-dependent games negate both individuality and bonding
because both partners’ insecurities predominate. One or both may
feel threatened by the other’s independence, and in a mistaken, para-
noid attempt to control this, they try to tie the other into a highly
oppressive relationship through constant surveillance and emotional
bullying.

The issue of self-disclosure

Self-disclosure in intimate relationships is by no means the uniform and

unitary phenomenon suggested in depictions of the pure relationship
(Giddens 1992). For instance, although mutual self-disclosure may be
at its most open and vital in dynamic intimacy, it may also be used
as a gambit to get one’s way, rather than as a means of opening up
and getting close to one another. Also in less intense relationships or
those in which intimacy is eroding, disclosure may take several forms
and be used in markedly different ways. For example, although self-
disclosure is rationed in episodic intimacy, it may be used selectively to
reduce anxiety between partners. And while frank and open disclosure
is largely absent in semi-detached intimacy, partners may make a point
of public displays of pseudo-disclosure in order to present themselves as
a ‘normal’ couple (Duncombe and Marsden 1995).
The idea that self-disclosure is much more variable and complex than
assumed in Giddens’ account of the pure relationship is also supported
by Jamieson’s review of the evidence. She suggests that ‘disclosing inti-
macy’ is ‘not the dominant type in most couple relationships’, and
points out that expressions of practical care and support are just as
important (Jamieson 1998: 157). Also, ‘silent intimacy’ (rather than
disclosing intimacy) is effective in expressing love and care through
physical presence or simple acts of loyalty.
Other acts of loving and caring may not be conveyed through ‘formal’
disclosure as such. In this sense, for example, sensitivity, respect, cour-
tesy and civility are essential to mutually satisfying intimacy, but they
are expressed subtly and often non-verbally and certainly not in ways
normally thought of as self-disclosure. The willingness to support one
another in disputes with outsiders is another example in which there
is no formal or explicit disclosure, but which can be regarded as acts
164 Intimacy and Power

of loyalty that remain largely ‘hidden’ until revealed by an incident or

chance remark. In this sense intimate knowledge of another is born out
of cumulative shared experience, not through deliberate disclosure.
Finally, forms of non-disclosure must not be discounted as impor-
tant components of the inner workings of close relationships. From
a therapeutic point of view, Craib notes that partners often have
deep emotional issues, conflicts and dilemmas that are best left undis-
closed at particular points in time so as not to become destructive of
intimacy. In this respect, says Craib, ‘a great deal of not talking is nec-
essary’, and while ‘making time to talk to a partner is clearly a good
idea . . . sometimes it can be important not to talk’ (Craib 1994: 130).

Trust, commitment and satisfaction

Giddens claims that in the context of the pure relationship mutual self-
disclosure creates strong relations of trust and commitment, which play
a huge psychological role in keeping partners together. Such disclosure
is part of a freely given, psychological and emotional investment in one
another and is reflected in high levels of commitment and trust. How-
ever, it is clear that in some types of intimate relationship trust and
commitment are less freely given and far more ‘conditional’. Even in
relationships offering little in the way of emotional or sexual satisfac-
tion there is, nevertheless, a certain amount of social and psychological
support that derives from being a couple. In these cases commitment
and trust are filtered through a web of pseudo-positive regard for the
benefits (no matter how meagre in some cases) of being together.
Contrary to the assumptions of the pure relationship there isn’t a
clear-cut equation between intimacy and generic forms of commitment,
trust, satisfaction or disclosure. When dynamic intimacy corrodes into
episodic or semi-detached types such phenomena do not disappear alto-
gether; rather, they evolve into hybrid forms. Commitment in particular
becomes gradually emptied out of emotional content and becomes
transmuted into more practical or ‘conditional’ forms involving psy-
chosocial protection. In such cases partners may become preoccupied
with ‘sustaining a sense of intimacy’, not only by repairing or shoring up
troubled relationships (Jamieson 1999), but in the more positive sense
of feeding the flow of benign power that may energise or re-energise
them. Such strategies check any tendency for intimacy to unravel and
degrade into mutual pretence, manipulation or co-dependence.
The same is true for the notion of ‘satisfaction’ in intimacy. In
real intimacy (as opposed to the rather abstract depiction of the pure
 The Nature of Modern Intimacy 165

relationship) mutual satisfaction is never a static, idealised state. Rather,

it is dynamically fluctuating and uncertain, albeit strictly bounded by
the limits set by serious manipulation and exploitation. In this sense
Craib’s observations are pertinent. Craib points out that a relationship
brings ‘emotional satisfactions and dissatisfactions in equal measure’
(1998: 114) and that the dissatisfactions will include disappointment,
envy, jealousy, anger, sadness and even desperation (1994). In this sense,
routine turbulences put into question the idea that a generic notion of
‘satisfaction’ is the sole criterion by which people judge the success or
otherwise of intimate relationships.
If dissatisfactions are an in-built feature of intimacy then ‘satisfaction’
as a generic category cannot possibly do justice to the actual range of
feelings and emotions that are central to the experience of close relation-
ships. Similarly, satisfaction is closely linked with self-disclosure in the
notion of the pure relationship. But as authors like Craib and Jamieson
have pointed out, periods of non-communication (not talking to each
other), or deliberate non-disclosure, are also often important. They are
integral to the emotion work that may keep a relationship together (the
positive meaning of sustaining a sense of intimacy) over lengthy periods
of time, including accepting compromises, reconciling differences and
healing emotional pain.

Intimacy, fragility and interpersonal power

An important feature of the pure relationship is its inherent fragility.

For Giddens (1992) in particular, the heart of the problem lies in the
increasing intensification of mutual disclosure that is part and parcel
of modern intimacy. As partners (or friends) open out to each other
more and more – in the service of generating trust and commitment –
the self becomes exposed and vulnerable, and hence the possibilities for
hurt and rejection are multiplied. Thus the fragility of intimacy is corre-
spondingly increased. For Beck and Beck-Gernsheim (1995), the fragility
is further enhanced by the strain imposed by the often opposing pulls
of the two distinct labour market biographies of the partners.
While there is some truth in these depictions of the fragility of
modern intimacy, neither takes into account the routine influence of
interpersonal power and control and the inherent tensions it produces.
Mutually satisfying intimacy is not a pure, continuous or relatively sta-
ble ‘state of affairs’; it involves a labile and potentially volatile set of
processes. The interpersonal dynamics of power and control mean that
mutually satisfying intimacy has a fluctuating, ever-emergent nature.
166 Intimacy and Power

The potential for disruption or dissatisfaction in such relationships

means that they are always moving in and out of a balance of power,
influence and control.
The labile and fluctuating nature of mutually satisfying (dynamic)
intimacy stands out in relief in comparison with relationships at the
other end of the scale underpinned by ‘hard’ manipulation, mutual
oppression, or by what Miller (1995) terms ‘intimate terrorism’ – in
which anxiety is linked to the misuse or abuse of power. In such rela-
tionships intimacy has depreciated because the flowing tensile nature
of dynamic, ‘open’ intimacy has become constricted. Either power and
control has been frozen into a skewed or lopsided arrangement, or it has
evolved into mutual oppression and emotional indifference.
In this sense the fragility of modern intimacy is not simply down to
the psychological vulnerability of the self in the form of the possibili-
ties for hurt and rejection that may result from ‘unrestrained’ mutual
self-disclosure, or even the added pressure of divergent labour market
biographies. The fragility of modern intimacy stems equally from the
routinely labile basis of the interpersonal control on which it rests.
A seeming paradox is that it is precisely this that ensures that mutu-
ally satisfying intimacy doesn’t become frozen into a settled pattern of
inequality or mutually tolerated dissatisfaction.

The precarious balance of dependence and independence

A further reason for the fragility of modern intimacy concerns the bal-
ance between individual’s dependence (togetherness, involvement) on
the one hand and their independence (separateness, individuality) on
the other. An underlying assumption of this study is that we are, in
equal measure, unique, independently acting and thinking individuals
as well as social creatures who at every turn are influenced by our social
environment (Layder 1997). Such an approach opposes a rigid division
between an emphasis on the importance of independence (as in ver-
sions of therapy and feminism) as against an emphasis on dependence –
especially in the context of marital intimacy (Reibstein 1997). A proper
understanding of intimacy must acknowledge the balance between indi-
viduality and togetherness. In this sense, genuine interdependence can
only properly be achieved if individuals have enough self-esteem and
approval to sustain them as truly independent beings. Only then can
the necessary balance of motivation and restraint for mutually satisfying
intimacy be achieved.
 The Nature of Modern Intimacy 167

If a person is dependent on others for his or her self-esteem or

approval then their close relationship will be out of alignment. One
partner’s greater dependence will disrupt and skew the interdependence
that is required by an intimate bond because it places an unfair burden
on one person to fill up the void in the other’s life by constantly attend-
ing to their needs and insecurities. In the context of modern intimacy
the abrogation of self-responsibility provides another source of pressure
on ‘the pure relationship’ itself. Intimacy in the modern world must sat-
isfy both partners’ psycho-emotional needs, at the same time as it fulfils
functions that were once supplied by the social community (Giddens
1992, Beck and Beck-Gernsheim 1995, Perel 2007).
Over-dependence makes intimacy impossible. Genuine intimacy
requires insight into personal limitations and frailties, as well as
strengths. Again a balance is required. An excessive preoccupation with
either weakness or strength (egotism) will undermine mutual satis-
faction. Only a mature individualism can come to terms with the
‘existential aloneness’ that characterises the human condition (Sartre
1966), and the consequent need to embrace self-responsibility. In this
sense, taking responsibility entails being accountable for what becomes
of us, what we make of ourselves, and for our thoughts and desires. But
the difficulty of achieving this kind of maturity is that intimate rela-
tionships create a sense of emotional connection with others which can
easily be misused as a convenient excuse to abandon self-responsibility.
And yet personal power and responsibility are essential in order
for individuals to make things happen, or alter their life circum-
stances. Thus mature individualism in both partners pumps up the
positive, energising emotions on which mutually satisfying intimacy
is based. Conversely, the suppression of individuality creates an over-
emphasis on dependence (togetherness), leading to energy-draining
habits and negative emotions. Without doubt, protection and depen-
dence are essential components of intimacy, but they are impossible
to achieve without a corresponding recognition of partners’ differing
needs, wishes and desires. Mutually satisfying intimacy can only emerge
from a balanced focus on individuality and teamwork. In this man-
ner a true interdependence can help to steer a relationship away from
over-dependence, co-dependence or selfishness.

The dangers of protective-dependent intimacy

Reibstein (1997) is, of course, right to stress the importance of protection

and dependence for couple intimacy, but protection and dependence
168 Intimacy and Power

must rest on a sound basis of self-responsibility and mature individ-

ualism. In their absence there are clear dangers in emphasising the
importance of protective-dependent intimacy. A close bond will natu-
rally afford some protection, but this cannot be its raison d’etre. Only
relationships that support or enhance the self-identities of the partners
can furnish mutual satisfaction. In this sense intimacy is a vehicle for
mutual exploration, personal growth and development. If protective-
dependence is, or becomes, the raison d’etre of a relationship, it is
likely to inflexibly restrict expressions of individuality and, as a result,
undermine rather than enhance mutual satisfaction.
While undoubted benefits accrue from safety, protection and depen-
dence they do not wholly obviate the need for self-responsibility.
Genuine ‘safety’ in intimacy can only be present when autonomous
individuals create an interdependence – an agreement to share purposes,
plans and desires in a way that does not suppress individuals’ needs,
rights and interests. Using intimacy as a protective shield prevents rather
than facilitates a mutually satisfying interdependence. Furthermore, the
fragility of intimacy is increased when partners off-load responsibili-
ties and become dependent on each other for self-esteem, approval and
emotional energy. Only when the protective aspects of intimacy are
combined with respect for individuality can mutual exploration and
personal growth take place. Much of the fragility of modern intimacy
stems from the difficulty of achieving a delicate balance between indi-
viduality and teamwork (a point not generally noted by the theorists of
the pure relationship, Giddens, Beck and Beck-Gernsheim).

Modern intimacy: Beyond the pure relationship

Modern intimacy is a more inclusive, nuanced and complex phe-

nomenon than suggested by the pure relationship. It is more accurate
and realistic to portray it as a continuum of types (dynamic, episodic,
semi-detached, manipulative, mutual pretence and oppressive), with
their variable forms of disclosure, commitment, trust, satisfaction and
so on. Furthermore, although the theorists of the pure relationship are
right about the fragile nature of modern intimacy, they do not nec-
essarily offer the most adequate or apposite reasons to account for
this fragility. It is true, as Giddens and Beck & Beck-Gernsheim have
observed, that modern intimacy carries a much heavier weight of expec-
tation and responsibility than in pre-modern times, and thus to an
extent, its fragility results from the increasing exposure and vulnera-
bility of the self and the pressure of different labour market biographies.
 The Nature of Modern Intimacy 169

But these are not the only, or necessarily the most important, reasons
for the fragility of modern intimacy. Equally crucial is the routine influ-
ence of interpersonal control and the inherent tensions it produces in
intimate partnerships, particularly those that hinge around the struggle
between dependence and independence.
12
Intimacy, Power and Social
Domains

Throughout this account of modern couple intimacy I have made

reference both to the role of social domains and to the different forms
of power and control embedded in them. In this chapter I turn to
these issues in a more explicit and extended sense. Chapters 2–11 con-
centrated on aspects of individual and interpersonal power as they
are directly involved in close relationships. Thus it might seem that
structural, collective or systemic dimensions of power merely form a
somewhat unobtrusive background. Actually, this would be an illusion,
and artefact of the principal analytic focus of the study. In fact, struc-
tural, systemic or collective dimensions of power play a crucial role in
so far as intimate (interpersonal) relationships are formed at the centre
of a maelstrom of social domain and power influences.
How do interpersonal aspects of intimacy link up with wider
social organisation, and power? Acknowledging the influence of social
domains requires a multidimensional view of power. That is, it must
be recognised that power takes on distinct guises and forms accord-
ing to the domain of social reality from which it derives. Along with
the domains of ‘psychobiography’ and ‘situated activity’ (respectively
referring to individual and interpersonal power), there are two other
domains indicating ‘social structural’ or ‘systemic’ phenomena. These
are ‘social settings’, which influence behaviour in an immediate sense,
and ‘contextual resources’ – the most encompassing domain of society-
wide phenomena. It is crucial to recognise that social domains are
not simply ‘dimensions’, ‘areas’ or ‘levels’ of society. Rather, they are
radically different orders of social reality that are closely intertwined
through social relations of power (Layder 1997, 1998b). In this sense,
intimacy is a complex amalgam of the causal influences of all four

170
 Intimacy, Power and Social Domains 171

domains (and the powers embedded in them), as they operate in time

and space.
Contextual resources include several related elements. First, society-
wide divisions of class, gender and ethnicity signify reproduced inequal-
ities of power based on the distribution of resources and access to them.
In this sense they channel access to high status positions, cultural mean-
ings, values, ideologies and expectations (about romantic love, couple
intimacy, friendship and so on). They also exert a strong influence on
lifestyle choices – about fashion, food, cars and taste, for instance. The
power of such structural (or systemic) factors is very different from that
of subjective powers, which are continually shaped and modified dur-
ing the course of situated activities (interpersonal encounters). Because
structural power is likely to be entrenched, it is often resistant and slow
to change. Certainly, structural power isn’t easily altered by the actions
of individuals – in the way that alterations in the balance of power and
control often occur during encounters. Sometimes structural inequali-
ties of power can only be transformed through collective endeavour (by
protests, reforms, pressure groups and so on).
Although structural power, cultural ideas and ideologies (in this case
about intimacy) shape and constrain behaviour, they don’t determine it
in any absolute sense. People are not ciphers, hollow puppets or plastic
creations of such influences. To varying extents individuals may over-
come limitations of skills and opportunities created by inequalities of
class, gender and ethnicity. They are also free to reject or believe in what
celebrity or lifestyle magazines say about friendship, or falling in love, as
well as more traditional or institutional values and expectations about
such things. In this sense people selectively draw from cultural ideas
or the habitus of their origin, rather than become helplessly entrapped
within their boundaries. Individuals have very different life experiences
and opportunities, which equip them with unique skills and capacities.
Thus, an individual’s subjective powers may enable them to overcome
disadvantages or resist dominant cultural influences.

Social settings and intimacy

The effects of structural power are also conditioned by the domain of

‘social settings’, which are socially organised locations embedding dif-
ferent forms of social behaviour. Intimate relationships and encounters
don’t float in vacuum; they occur in socially defined settings, at work,
in the family, on the street, as part of a criminal subculture or as a facet
of some sporting or leisure activity. Social settings provide the physical
172 Intimacy and Power

location for action – a pub, a house, an office, a bedroom, a courtroom,

a factory, a hospital, a school, an airport lounge, a government bureau-
cracy. But they are far more than physical locales. More importantly,
they are webs of social relations, positions and practices that help shape
people’s behaviour. For example, work organisations direct and influ-
ence the behaviour of workers, while family life and friendship networks
define what is meant by parenthood, or loyalty in friendship.
Many social settings are associated with formal power structures and
authority systems such as factories, offices, schools, universities, reli-
gious and military institutions and government bureaucracies. In them,
appropriate behaviour is defined and controlled through relations of
authority. Intimate settings like families, sexual and/or romantic part-
nerships and friendships are far less formally organised. Certainly, some
aspects of intimate relationships are legally enforced (e.g. the Child
Support Agency), to prevent certain types of exploitation. But largely,
norms, expectations and values about friendship, parenthood or sexual-
ity are learned informally through tradition, custom and practice. What
it is to be a good friend or parent or lover, or what is inappropriate
behaviour in these roles and relationships are more loosely defined.

Personal relationships and interpersonal power

What about personal relationships? It is best to envisage the influ-

ence of the domains working from the most ‘macro lever of contextual
resources, downwards into social settings, and upwards from the micro
domains of psychobiography to situated activity (encounters). This
imagery indicates the manner in which personal relationships influence,
and are influenced by, social domains. To view the domains in a vertical
plane in this manner is useful up to a point, but they are also stretched
out in time and space – which is better indicated by a horizontal
plane. The domains act on and through each other simultaneously and
are tightly bound together through social relations of power. Personal
relationships result from the combined influence of these intertwined
forms of power. It follows that they cannot be understood by focusing
exclusively on one domain.
In this respect, although of crucial importance for understanding
some aspects of intimacy, structural inequalities in themselves (see
Jamieson 1998) do not account for interpersonal variations in intimacy
found in everyday practices. Structural inequalities are always condi-
tioned by social settings, situated activity and psychobiographies. Thus
the influence of class, gender, age or ethnicity on social behaviour is
 Intimacy, Power and Social Domains 173

never direct, unmediated or straightforward. It is always subtle, com-

plex and modified by the influences of the other domains. In a parallel
manner an exclusive focus on interaction (Goffman 1983, Collins 2005)
obscures the crucial conditioning influence of other domains. This
would also be true for an exclusively psychological, psychoanalytic
or psychotherapeutic influence (as Miller, 1995, points out). Similarly,
Giddens’ (1984) ‘theory of structuration’ (which provides the analytic
background to his notion of the ‘pure relationship’) elides the ‘emer-
gent’ aspects of interpersonal power and the mobile inequalities that
are intrinsic to them. As a consequence, he over-stresses the egalitarian,
democratising potential of pure relationships (Giddens 1992).
Intimate relationships are in the ‘eye of the storm’, the centre of mul-
tiple domain powers and their effects. Individuals draw from a range
of available power and control resources in pursuing their intimacy
needs and desires. Because even optimal or mutually satisfying inti-
macy involves at least some traces of gentle manipulation or other
‘unfair’ means, encounters between lovers or friends have a constantly
shifting balance of power and emphasis, as individuals employ differ-
ent resources, skills and ploys to elicit loving, caring responses from
one another. Thus as partners or friends negotiate their relationships in
everyday encounters, they draw from shifting configurations of domain
resources.
For example, if personal charm or persuasive skills don’t have the
desired effect, there may be a shift of emphasis to gift giving (like sex,
or special attention or ‘understanding’). Similarly, showing appropriate
empathy and disclosing one’s own feelings may be effective when other
skills, ploys or resources are not. Thus, in any one encounter intimates
may draw from a combination of structural influences like discourses,
gender or class habitus, as well as subjective powers and abilities. But
the overall configuration of power and control and the emotional tenor
of intimate encounters will be reshaped constantly according to the
way in which the encounter unfolds as well as the unique contribu-
tions of the individuals themselves. Thus, in specific encounters the
exact mix of power influences will vary in terms of a unique amal-
gam of domain influences. This, of course, demands a view of power
as multidimensional and diverges from the idea that power takes a
singular ontological form – as in Foucault’s (1977, 1980) discursive prac-
tices, Habermas’ (1984, 1987) systemic domination, or the ability of
individual or collective actors to achieve particular ends (Weber 1964,
Giddens 1984).
174 Intimacy and Power

The need for a comprehensive approach

The importance of grasping the orchestrated effects of all social domains

for understanding intimacy cannot be understated and is brought into
sharp relief when we examine approaches in which the influence of
one or more domains is omitted or overlooked. From this point of
view, while Goffman provides us with a masterly sociological account
of interpersonal behaviour, he does rather overstress the influence of
what he calls ‘the interaction order’ (Goffman 1983). As a consequence,
he neglects the equally important conditioning influence of psychobi-
ography, while also underemphasising the role of social settings and
contextual resources – although he does acknowledge the ‘loosely cou-
pled’ link with institutional phenomena (see Layder 1997, 2006, for a
more detailed discussion of Goffman’s approach). From the point of
view of domain theory, Goffman was right to highlight the relatively
independent properties of the interaction order (including its impor-
tance for self-identities and the creation of meaning and so on), but he
was remiss in denying, or at least understating, the conditioning effects
of the other domains.
Furthermore, while Goffman did capture some important aspects of
interpersonal processes, he was little concerned about the problem of
power, or its multidimensional nature. Thus, he omits any considera-
tion of subjective power deriving from psychobiographies or of systemic
power (deriving from social settings and contextual resources). And
while he occasionally refers to inequalities of status (and the power on
which they rest), his writing doesn’t include an analysis of the role of
power in interpersonal relations.
Goffman shares with a number of others (including symbolic inter-
actionists, Blumer 1969, and ethnomethodologists, Garfinkel 1967) an
overemphasis on ‘social practices’ or inter-subjective elements – which
Goffman refers to under the rubric ‘the interaction order’. Numer-
ous social constructionists Coulter (1989), Harre (1983), Shotter (1983),
Potter and Wetherall (1987) share the same mistaken view of this as the
exclusive explanatory domain of social reality. Instead of grasping the
relatively independent effects of human psychobiographies in social life,
these approaches view individuals as simple reflections (ciphers, pup-
pets) of social forces, rules, expectations, discourses, ideologies and so
on. This exclusive focus on the determining influence of social practices
and inter-subjectivity offers an impoverished view of personhood and
self-identity (see Layder 2007 for a critique).
 Intimacy, Power and Social Domains 175

In many respects these approaches share in Goffman’s (1967) view

that in order to understand social interaction we need a psychology
‘stripped and cramped’ suitable for the study of track meets, bedrooms,
courtrooms and breakfast tables. As he puts it, the sociological study
of such phenomena demands a focus ‘on moments and their men,
not men and their moments’. More recently, Collins has elaborated on
Goffman’s stance by suggesting that human individuals ‘are transient
fluxes charged up by situations’ (2005: 6) whose ‘uniqueness’ (and every-
thing else we would wish to know about them) ‘is moulded in a chain of
encounters across time’ (2005: 5). From the domain perspective, up to
a point it is true that social encounters mould individual subjectivities,
self-images and behavioural dispositions. But the converse is also true.
Everyone has subjective powers (varying physical and psychological
abilities and attributes) that help create and reformulate interpersonal
encounters. On this view, individuals and situated activities contribute
in equal measure to the character of interpersonal relations. To grasp the
real nature of intimacy we must accept that individuals are not exclu-
sively situational creatures even though they/we spend a great deal of
their/our lives in a wide variety of situations. A person has an inner
life that is simultaneously lived both ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ the situated
encounters in which she or he participates.
Individuals, then, help create as well as transform situated encoun-
ters. An excessive emphasis on the formative influence of social rules
and practices obscures the fact that a person’s (psychobiographically
derived) unique powers leave their stamp on situated encounters. Inti-
mate relationships, for instance, are replete with examples of personal
domination, manipulation, emotional blackmail as well as more sub-
tle and benign ‘persuasion’ and ‘inducement’, in which subjective
creativity plays a large role in interpersonal behaviour. In this sense
individuals cannot be reduced to the sum of their situated encoun-
ters over their lifetime. And, although Collins correctly observes that
an individual’s emotional energies are charged up by situations, indi-
viduals also charge themselves up. Through self-talk – their own inter-
nal dialogue – they create moods and emotional tones that connect
with pre-existing sensitivities developed during their life experiences.
Of course, encounters charge up individuals, but there is an already
formed psyche (with certain levels of positive or negative energy) that
rubs up against situations as they arise. In this sense a person’s pre-
existing energy level is either enhanced or diminished by interactive
encounters.
176 Intimacy and Power

Someone who, in general, is highly energised by personal relation-

ships may find himself or herself emotionally spent by energy-draining
games with their partner (see Chapter 8). Conversely, someone who
is low in emotional energy may have it boosted by being drawn into
intimacy games that are energising (Chapter 9). Clearly, there is a
continuous feedback loop between the emergent dynamics of situ-
ated encounters and the psychic energies of the individuals involved
in them. Of course, in reality, everything hinges on exactly who is
involved, and in what circumstances. However, an adequate expla-
nation shouldn’t discount, or overlook, the influence of either the
domains of psychobiography or situated activity – and thus of the
contributions of the unique individuals, or emergent situational fac-
tors. One set of factors should not be reduced to the influence of the
other.
While these approaches overemphasise the generative potential of
interaction, Giddens, on the other hand, explicitly denies the exis-
tence – and thus the importance – of the ‘extra’, or distinctive, influence
of an interaction order that is relatively independent of institutional
forces (Giddens 1987). Giddens suggests that institutional influences
enter directly into social activity through what he calls the ‘duality of
structure’, without the ‘added’ input of the interaction order. In this par-
ticular sense the difference between Goffman and Giddens is that Gid-
dens envisages a much more direct and immediate connection between
wider institutional and cultural expectations and the actual behaviour
of intimate partners. The link isn’t complicated by the influence of
the (relatively) independent interaction order. Of course, Giddens does
not imply that the link is a simple mechanical or deterministic one,
because in practice, active, reflexive subjects (intimate partners in this
case) interpret and reshape institutional expectations. However, impor-
tantly for Giddens, interpersonal dynamics in themselves do not enable
or constrain behaviour differently from institutions.
Giddens may have a point in so far as there is a sense in which
institutional factors enter directly into behaviour. But accepting this
does not require a denial of the distinctive and partly independent
effects of situated activity. The interpersonal processes that underpin
intimate relationships and behaviour can only be fully understood as
the combined influence of different but related ‘social domains’. The
internal dynamics of situated activity combined with subjective and
wider (structural or systemic) social factors are crucial to understanding
the complexities and nuances of intimate relationships. Disregarding
 Intimacy, Power and Social Domains 177

the influence of distinct domains of social reality on modern intimacy

can only lead to simplifications and over-generalisations.

Intimacy and domain influences

Since interpersonal behaviour is at the centre of a maelstrom of domain

and power influences, the vision of the individual offered here is of a
‘control-seeking self set within a model of embedded domains (Layder
2004a, b, Hearn 2007). In this context the reciprocal use of benign
control is central to the establishment of mutually satisfying intimacy
although this is always adulterated by elements of selfishness and
milder forms of manipulation. Mutual satisfaction is more decisively
compromised to the extent that control and influence become more
seriously manipulative and exploitative (as in emotional blackmail or
psychological bullying).
However, it is important not to confuse this notion of the ‘control-
seeking self with what Craib (1998) describes as the ideology of the
‘powerful self. This, he suggests, underlies Giddens (1991, 1992) work
on self-identity and intimacy which stresses the constant questioning
and reconstruction of the self as it is ‘required’ by the reflexive nature of
modern society. Craib suggests that Giddens is entrapped in an ideology
of the powerful self when, in fact, in late modernity ‘the self, the indi-
vidual is becoming less powerful, less able to change his or her world
while being subjected to changes, often radical changes, by forces well
beyond his or her control or even understanding’ (Craib 1998: 2). I have
some sympathy with Craib’s criticism here and this is further buttressed
by the inadequacy of Giddens’ (1984) generic notion of human agency.
On this view everyone has ‘transformative capacity’ or the ability to alter
their circumstances as an intrinsic feature of their human agency. This
seems to imply not only a powerful self – one who has transformative
capacity – but also, one that is shared equally by all human beings.
By contrast, the notion of the control-seeking self implies none of
these things. First, as I have stressed, individuals are defined through
their differing psychobiographies, which endow them with varying
levels of subjective power and control (as reflected, for example, in
differing levels of self-confidence, persuasiveness or the ability to get
things done). Clearly, these variable powers impact on intimacy and
although people are constantly engaged in negotiations of power and
control in their everyday dealings, their subjective powers are not uni-
form, nor do they produce uniform effects. There are as many degrees
and types of success or failure in interpersonal control (Layder 2004b)
178 Intimacy and Power

as there are individuals in the world. In this sense Giddens’ notion

of a generic transformative capacity fails to grasp the variation in
individuals’ tranformative powers.

Social domains and the pure relationship

Both Giddens, and Beck and Beck-Gernsheim deny, and thus neglect
(more explicitly in the case of Giddens 1987), the relatively autonomous
influence of what I refer to as ‘situated activity (the ‘interaction order’
in Goffmans terms). As a result, their respective analyses overlook
the subtle, but profound effect of the emergent dynamics of inter-
personal negotiations on close relationships. Both Giddens, and Beck
and Beck-Gemsheim adopt theoretical positions that assume a direct
(unmediated) relationship between individuals (as social agents) and
institutional and cultural influences on their behaviour (in Giddens, this
is accomplished via ‘the duality of structure’). Such a theoretical posture
elides the conditioning influence of interactional dynamics that work
to create a plurality of types of intimacy, forms of disclosure, commit-
ment, trust and satisfaction that characterises modern intimacy. Such
variation is lost through theoretical and ontological dissolution. This is
perhaps why the pure relationship seems to brook little in the way of
the alternative modes of intimacy described in the body of this book.
Integral to the pure relationship is the reflexive, autonomous self,
and the individualising processes of modernity. In Giddens’ view self-
reflexivity is intrinsically aligned with egalitarianism, emancipation and
‘the radical democratisation of the personal’ (1992: 182). But this stands
in stark contrast to opposing interpretations that have a much less
optimistic tone. Craib has forcefully criticised this optimistic view by
counter-posing it with an emphasis on the importance of disappoint-
ment in intimate relationships as well as the limitations on autonomy
set by social constraints. Also, as Jamieson reminds us, some authors
(Bellah 1985, Strathern 1992, Hochschild 1994) have interpreted the
constant monitoring of the self by the self as ‘part and parcel of a ram-
pant self-obsessive individualism or consumerism which may threaten
to destroy all intimate relationships’ (Jamieson 1998: 40).
Giddens suggests that ‘autonomy means the successful realisation of
the reflexive project of the self – the condition of relating to others in
an egalitarian way’ (1992: 189). However, an undue emphasis on the
autonomy of the self overlooks the intrinsically situated character of the
self. This, in sum, obscures the manner in which situated activity is rela-
tively independent of subjective aspects of agency as well as institutional
 Intimacy, Power and Social Domains 179

factors. Thus again, the decisive mediating and conditioning role of the
interpersonal processes that push towards plurality in modern intimacy
is neglected. Moreover, in many types of intimacy the self is enmeshed
in manipulation and exploitation as much as it is in benignity and
egalitarianism. Much depends on the plethora of personal powers, pre-
dispositions and capacities, as well as routine interpersonal games and
relationship habits, all of which exemplify the complex, nuanced and
multidimensional character of modern intimacy.
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Index

Note: Locators in bold type indicate figures, those in italics indicate tables.

abandonment, fear of, 20, 33, 35, 56, benign persuasion strategies
93, 106–7, 115, 117 deals and pacts, 103–4
acceptance, approval and, 42–3 emotion work, 104
addictive/co-dependent games, 127–9 enrolment and people
Adrienne, C., 55–6 management, 103
affectionate regard, 17 personal magnetism, 100–1
altruism, 61, 133, 162 seduction, 101–3
altruistic games, 148–9 supporting roles creation, 99–100
approval, and acceptance, 42–3 Berne, E., 128, 130, 142
arguments, as ‘way of relating’, 93, 97 Bernstein, B., 102, 131
attritional games, 119–20, 122–3 Blumer, H., 174
Austin, J., 138 Borcherds, R., 80–81
autonomy, Giddens on, 178 Borg, J., 101
Borker, R., 71–2
balance of power Branden, N., 37, 39, 54, 60, 92, 130
independence and, 136 Brodsky, A., 34, 128
personal development and, 48, 142, bullying, 9
159
relationship fragility and, 166 Cameron, D., 63, 67, 70, 85–6
shifts in, 58, 61, 76 Cancian, F., 134
Baron-Cohen, S., 63, 66, 76–81, 82 children, effect of energy-draining
Baxter, J., 68 games on, 121–2
Beck, U., 1, 10–11, 165, 178 Collins, R., 175
Beck-Gernsheim, E., 1, 10–11, 165, commitment, couple intimacy vs. the
178 pure relationship, 164
benign control communication
concept analysis, 56 importance of, 152–3
dependence on in dynamic need for empathy, 79
intimacy, 160 competitive behaviour, girls vs.
manipulative-exploitative vs., 51, boys, 68
55, 92 Comte, A., 1
Miller’s failure to recognise, conflict styles
19, 56 direct vs. indirect, 93–7
mutual see mutual benign and eroding intimacy, 154–5
control control
and power balance, 58–9 benign see benign control
process analysis, 57–8 energy-draining games and,
and relationship effectiveness, 56 124–5, 131
seduction games, 133 indirectness in communication
and self-interest, 60–1 and, 92

184
 Index 185

interpersonal see interpersonal mutual seduction in, 149

control personal growth and, 48
mutual see mutual benign control see also optimal intimacy
positive aspects, 55–7
Redfield and Adrienne’s ego, essential and positive aspects, 60
misunderstanding, 56 ego-centred games, 125–27
and social success, 130 ego grooming, 42, 132, 134
control-seeking self, 177 Elias, N., 1
conversational styles, gendered emotional blackmail
perspectives, 67–76 vs. bullying, 33
core needs, fulfilment of, 37–8 concept analysis, 109–11
Coulter, J., 174 and control, 9
couples in energy-draining games, 120, 126,
Marshall’s study, 16–18 162
relationship skills, 18 in eroding intimacy, 154
Craib, I., 24–25, 27, 59, 164–5, as indirect conflict style, 95–7
177–8 personal magnetism and, 100
cultural influences, 64 emotional blocking, personal control
and, 92, 151–2
De Angelis, B., 108 emotional/intimate terrorism
dependency creation, 106–7 concept analysis, 18–19
Deutschberger, P., 99 and disappointment, 22–3
directness, and gender, 85 in energy-draining games, 116, 162
disclosing intimacy, 12, 24, 163 and fragility of intimacy, 166
definition, 12 function of, 20–1
Jamieson’s review, 163 pertinence to types of intimate
men’s participation, 24 relationship, 21–2
disclosure and pretence intimacy, 32
authenticity in episodic process analysis, 20
intimacy, 29 and self-esteem, 111
in eroding intimacy, 163 usefulness of the idea of, 21
self-, 24–5, 27, 41, 50, 59–60, emotional rescue, 105–6, 124–5
70, 84, 160, 163, 165 emotional satisfaction
in semi-detached intimacy, negative aspects, 25
31, 151 in pure relationship, 24–5
variable nature of, 24 emotional withholding games, 123–5
see also mutual disclosure; emotion work, need for, 104–5
self-disclosure empathy, gendered perspective, 66,
displaced arguments, 154 76–81
Duncombe, J., 24 empathy games, focus, 148
Durkheim, 1 energising games
dynamic intimacy altruistic, 138–40
and the balance of power, 76 balancing requirements, 136
concept analysis, 27–8 empathy, 137–8
dependence on benign and the erosion of intimacy, 147–50
control, 160 examples, 113–14
emotion work in, 104 focus and theme, 148
and energising games, 161–62 identity affirmation, 134–7
fluctuation, 165 interweaving, 142–3
186 Index

energising games – continued gender

key themes, 132 directness and, 85
mechanisms, 130–1 and interpersonal control, 54
mutually supportive, 140–2 language and, 63
mutual seduction, 133–4 gendered behaviour
outcome, 146 Cameron’s critique, 69
personal control and emotional critique of Baron-Cohen’s research,
blocking, 151–2 76–81
and relationship rules, 143–5 critique of Tannen’s view, 67–76
and self-esteem, 130 Hyde’s studies, 69
strategies, 162 gender inequality, and quality of
energy-draining games intimacy, 23
addictive/co-dependent, 127–9 Giddens, A., 1, 8, 10–12, 61, 164–5,
attritional, 119–20, 122–3 173, 176–8
Gilbert, P., 40
effects on children, 121–2
Goffman, E., 174–6
ego-centred, 125–7
Goldman, A., 118
emotional withholding, 123–5
Goleman, D., 35, 76, 89, 102, 142
focus and theme, 162–3
Goodwin, M., 68, 73
in Lennon marriages, 116–19
Gottman, J., 140
manipulative, 115–19
Gray, J., 85
mechanisms, 114
objectives, 123 Habermas, J., 173
episodic intimacy habituation
concept analysis, 28–30 and communication breakdown,
main features, 150 153
eroding intimacy concept analysis, 156–7
conflict styles and, 154–5 as enemy of intimacy, 9, 15, 49
crises and turning points, 159 inevitability, 47–8
disclosure in, 163 Harre, R., 174
displaced arguments, 154 Hochschild, A., 103, 178
and game strategies, 147, 149–50, Holmes, J., 63
155–6 Horley, S., 33, 49, 100, 106, 107, 128
learning not to talk to one another, household chores
152–3 as expression of intimacy, 24
marriage and children, 157–8 and interpersonal control, 59
the problem of habituation, 156–7 Hyde, J., 69–70, 77

identity affirmation games, 134–7, 148

Forward, S., 33, 95, 96, 109, 110
impression management, 55
Foucault, M., 173
independence
fragility, of modern intimacy, 165–6
balancing, 46, 140–1, 156, 166–7
Frazier, D., 33, 51, 95, 96, 109, 110
as basic human need, 37, 42, 136
friendship, modern paradigm, 11
in dynamic intimacy, 27
Fromm, E., 34 in episodic intimacy, 30
in games strategies, 136–7, 140–1,
games see energising games; 163
energy-draining games gendered perspectives, 68–70, 74, 81
Garfinkel, H., 174 as manipulative tool, 115
 Index 187

Marshall’s perspective, 18 intimacy; pretence intimacy,

in oppressive intimacy, 34 concept analysis; quality of
Reibstein’s perspective, 14–15 intimacy; semi-detached
and security, 39 intimacy; sustaining intimacy
versus involvement, 44–5
indirectness in communication Jamieson, L., 8, 12, 23–4, 163, 178
Cameron’s examples, 85 Jeffers, S., 43
concept analysis, 85 Jenkins, R., 51
conflict styles, 93–7
and control, 92 Kaspersen, L., 12
vs. directness, 87
emotional blackmail, 96–7 labour market, impact on intimate
and emotional literacy, 88–9 relationships, 11
examples, 85–7, 91 Laing, R., 38, 60, 130
gendered perspectives, 72–3 language skills, gendered perspectives,
and the need for mutual 63, 78
readjustments, 90–1 Layder, D., 2, 38, 40, 44, 60, 63, 66,
tactical misunderstandings, 85 73, 75, 81, 92, 96, 102, 110, 130,
using meta-messages, 87–8 136, 156, 166, 170, 174, 177
individualisation process Lennon, C., 117–19
impact of, 10–11 Lennon, J., 117–19
importance of labour market limerence, vs. loving attachment, 17
influences on the, 11 linguistic behaviour, Cameron’s
interaction order, 65, 174, 176, view, 67
178 love
interpersonal control distinguishing between different
balance variations, 58–9 kinds of, 41
benign, 52 quality of between partners, 42
couple intimacy vs. the pure of self, 41
relationship, 160–1 types of, 16
and emotional blocking, 151–2 loving attachment, limerence vs., 17
gendered differences and Lukes, S., 51
similarities, 52, 54
household chores and, 59 Malone, M., 90, 98, 99
and relationship effectiveness, 54–6 Maltz, D., 71–2
self-disclosure, feelings and, 59–60 manipulated intimacy, concept
selfish aspects, 60–1 analysis, 32–4
Tannen’s view, 75 manipulative-exploitative control, vs.
two-way processes, 57–8 benign, 51, 55
interrogation, in attritional games, manipulative-exploitative strategies
120–1 dependency creation, 106–7
intimacy emotional blackmail, 109–11
dynamics of, 35 emotional rescue, 105–6
and practical arrangements, 24 emotional terrorism/bullying, 111
typology, 25–7 phoney seduction, 108–9
see also disclosing intimacy; power relinquishment, 107
dynamic intimacy; episodic psychological attrition, 108
intimacy; eroding intimacy; manipulative games, 115–19
oppressive intimacy; optimal Marsden, D., 24
188 Index

Marshall, A., 16–18, 23, 27–8, 59 insecurity and, 39

Marx, K., 1 and mutual seduction
Maslow, A., 37, 42, 48, 92, 142 strategies, 103
mental health optimal intimacy
security and, 38 conflict as routine feature, 23–4
self-esteem and, 39 and games strategies, 131–2,
meta-messages 142–3
concept analysis, 87 gendered perspective, 76
examples, 87–8 requirements, 51
gendered perspective, 69 see also dynamic intimacy
Miller, M., 10, 18–23, 26–8, 32, 45,
55–6, 59, 166 paranoia, energy-draining games
misunderstanding, impact of and, 128
consistent, 92 Parsons, T., 1
Moir, A., 53 Pease, A., 53, 93, 95, 122
Moir, B., 53 Pease, B., 53, 93, 95, 122
mutual benign control Peele, S., 34, 128
and closeness, 75–6 Perel, E., 18, 92, 99, 136, 139, 152,
concept analysis, 9, 51–2, 57 156, 167
and creativity, 57 personal growth, and balance of
in eroding intimacy, 161 power, 48–9
gendered perspectives, 75 Person, E., 34
natural variations, 58–9 phoney seduction, 108–9, 155, 162
and quality of intimacy, 61–2 physical coercion, 9
and social success, 130 Potter, J., 174
soft manipulation and, 28, 35 power, gendered perspectives, 72, 74
mutual disclosure power and control, benign forms
centrality of, 8 of, 19
and fragility of intimacy, 165 see also benign control
mutually satisfying intimacy see powerful self, 61
dynamic intimacy power relinquishment, 107
mutual satisfaction pretence intimacy, concept analysis,
and balance, 167 32–4
dependence and, 167–8 protective dependency
dynamic nature, 165 dangers of, 167–8
and interpersonal control, 62, derivation, 13
161, 177 effects of, 14
in seductive games, 134 vs. the pure relationship, 15
mutual seduction games, psychobiography
focus, 148 concept analysis, 36–7
and social behaviour, 66–7
nagging, 95–6, 108, 120, 122, psycho-emotional needs
154, 162 approval and acceptance, 42–3
Norwood, R., 128 balance, 46
core needs and feelings, 37–8
Ono, Yoko, 118–19 feeling special, 46–8
oppressive intimacy independence vs. involvement,
characteristics, 34 44–5
and co-dependence, 105 intimacy and, 49–50
 Index 189

love, 41–2 seduction

manifestations, 49–50 deep knowledge, 102–3
personal growth, 48–9 emotional gift exchanges, 102
security and self-esteem, 38–41 magnetic, 101
self-worth and self-respect, 43–4 persuasive, 101
psychological attrition, 108 phoney, 108–9, 155, 162
pure relationship self-disclosure
and aspects of modern intimacy, 23 centrality to modern intimacy, 84
Craib’s criticisms, 24–5 and emotional satisfaction, 25, 165
in eroding intimacy, 41
cultural and social influences, 64
feelings, control and, 59–60
emergence of, 1, 10–13
gendered perspectives, 70
fragility, 165
in the pure relationship, 164
Giddens’ suggestion, 11–12
variability, 163
interpersonal control in the, 160–1
self-esteem
modern intimacy vs., 168 energising games and, 130
vs. protective dependency, 15 and relationship effectiveness, 55
recreational sexuality in the, 12 security and, 38–41
self-disclosure in the, 164 and self-love, 41–2
social domains and the, 178 self-respect, self-worth and, 43–4
and social processes, 12 semi-detached intimacy
concept analysis, 30–2
quality of intimacy disclosure in, 31, 151
determining factors, 36 main features, 150–1
Shotter, J., 174
interpersonal negotiation and,
silent intimacy, 24, 163
61–2
Simmel, G., 1
Quilliam, S., 93–5
situated activity
independence, 178
rape trials, gendered communication influence, 65, 98, 176
issues, 85 and structural power, 171–2
Rawls, A., 57 Smith, D., 126
recreational sexuality, 12 social domains theory
Redfield, J., 55–6 on behavioural influences, 64–5
Reibstein, J., 13–14, 23, 26–8, 59, 158, on gender, 63, 66
162, 167 need for a comprehensive approach,
Reid-Thomas, H., 71 174–5, 177
relationship effectiveness personal relationships and
interpersonal control and, 54–5 interpersonal power, 172–3
self-esteem and, 55 and the pure relationship, 178
Rogers, C., 42 social groupings, behavioural
influences, 64
social settings
Sartre, J.-P., 167 and appropriate behaviour, 172
satisfaction, couple intimacy vs. the behavioural influence, 65
pure relationship, 164–5 types and locations, 171
Scheff, T., 40, 81, 137 soft manipulation, definition, 28
Seaman, F., 118 Stewart, S., 111, 128
security, and self-esteem, 38–41 structuration theory, 173
190 Index

surveillance, energy-draining games and familiarity, 48, 156

and, 120, 128 and independence, 144
sustaining intimacy insecurity and the depreciation of,
concept analysis, 24 39, 111
Marshall’s research, 16–17 personal growth and, 48
skills for, 18 and seduction, 102, 134
typology of intimacy, 25–7
Tannen, D., 63, 66, 67–76, 77,
80, 82
Vaitkus, S., 60
Templar, R., 143, 144
Tolle, E., 60
trust Weber, M., 1
couple intimacy vs. the pure Weinstein, E., 99
relationship, 164 Wetherall, M., 174
disclosure and, 12, 164 whingeing, 120