Dear Queenie,
I did something I know I shouldn't have done. I tried to fix somebody else's problem. Two people who are extremely close to me have known each other for decades. Let's call them my best friend and my partner. Recently, my partner called my friend about something relatively minor involving an item she had given us. Later, my friend told me about the conversation. She was a little bothered by it, but she wasn't furious. More importantly, she did not ask me to do anything. She was talking to me because we're close and that's what we do. Unfortunately, I have a bad habit. When somebody I love tells me about a problem, I don't always hear: "Listen to me." Sometimes I hear: "Deploy immediately." So I contacted my partner. I was already irritated, I lost my temper, and what should have been a relatively small issue between two adults became a much bigger one. Now they haven't spoken to each other for almost a month. My friend is upset about things that happened afterwards. My partner is upset that she hasn't returned his call. I think he may also believe that my angry reaction represented how she felt, when actually it was my reaction. And I am standing in the middle thinking: Well done. You took a small fire and arrived with gasoline. I have apologized for my part and made it clear that my friend never asked me to confront anyone on her behalf. But now I'm tempted to intervene again and try to get them talking. These are two of the closest people in my life. Their falling out affects birthdays, gatherings, plans and even practical things like what happens in an emergency. At the same time, I'm beginning to suspect that the original disagreement wasn't really the whole problem. People who have known each other for decades generally don't stop speaking for a month over one relatively minor incident. Queenie, since I helped create this mess, am I responsible for fixing it? —Should Have Just Listened
Dear Should Have Just Listened,
Your instincts have already brought you here once. Let's not give them the car keys again. You have correctly identified your mistake. Your friend came to you wanting an ear. You supplied an army. This is a surprisingly common relationship problem. Someone we love tells us: "You wouldn't believe what happened..." And before they've finished the story, we're offended on their behalf, composing messages, identifying villains and preparing to defend their honour. Meanwhile, they're thinking: "I was just telling you." So yes, you owe both of them something. You owe your friend an apology for turning something she shared privately into an intervention she didn't request. And you owe your partner clarity that your reaction was yours, not evidence that she had sent you to confront him. It sounds as though you've done both. That's where your responsibility largely ends. Because now there is a second problem: Their relationship. You didn't create their decades of history. You don't know everything that may have accumulated underneath this argument. And you're probably right that this isn't really about the original item. Tiny incidents are often where old resentments finally find somewhere to land. Your outburst may have lit the match. But if the whole building caught fire, there was probably something combustible lying around already. So resist the urge to become mediator, messenger and peace negotiator. You can say to each of them: "I regret my part in how this escalated, but whatever remains between the two of you needs to be discussed directly with each other." Then get out of the middle. No carrying messages. No: "He said..." No: "She feels..." No interpreting one person's silence for the other. They have phones. They know each other. They can speak. There is, however, one thing you are entitled to address. Their disagreement now affects your life. You don't get to demand that they repair their relationship for your convenience, but you can ask what the new reality means. Can they be civil at your birthday? Can they both attend the same gathering? If there's an emergency, can you rely on them to communicate? Those are reasonable practical questions when two members of your closest circle have stopped speaking. But don't confuse needing clarity with needing reconciliation. They may talk and repair things. They may talk and decide their relationship has changed. They may never be as close again. That's theirs to determine. Your lesson is much simpler. The next time someone you love tells you about a problem, before mounting your horse and charging into battle, ask one question: > "Do you want my help with this, or do you just need me to listen?" It may save three relationships. And apparently a perfectly innocent household item. —Queenie
