When parting, she said: "You do not know how to compromise." When parting, she said: “You don't know how to compromise. You live the way you feel comfortable and you spit on the others. I can’t live like this anymore.”
I said, “How is it? I do not understand".
She said, "You don't care about me."
I said, "Where did you get it?"
She said: “For all the time that you and I have lived, you have not expressed a single complaint to me. It doesn't work that way. Whatever I did, you just smiled. This is not normal, it cannot be this way and it cannot continue this way. You could at least pretend that you care."
And I said, “Yes, you are probably right. I don't know how to compromise."
And she left.
When I was six years old, my father left us. And my mother was alone with two boys around her neck and a bunch of debts. Working at two and a half rates, it is very difficult to pay enough attention to children. And my younger brother and I grew up on our own. Quite quickly, we learned how to manage the household, deal with problems and deal with each other without resorting to outside help.
True, sometimes my mother had a weekend. And sometimes she had enough strength left to take care of our upbringing. Now I understand that at such moments she tried to make up for lost time, tried to participate in our life. But she had very little time and all the participation fell out on us in a big compressed piece. And then we were just perplexed and tried to get away somewhere far away as soon as possible: mom, we are well-bred. And the entries in the diary have long been sorted out. And that glass was broken a week ago, why talk about it now? And we had a fight with my brother the day before yesterday, and yesterday we made it up. What to talk about?
But there was something to talk about. Because she needed to talk about it.
And we gradually developed a simple approach to life: what we need - we will do it ourselves. If we don’t do it, then it’s not really necessary. Most importantly, leave us alone and do not go for a ride on the brains. This is the best you can do for us. And we will not ride your brains. This is the best we can do for you.
Since then, I have not been able to compromise. This inability, sooner or later, led to breaks with all the women with whom I lived. With everyone. Without exception.
You don't give a damn about me!
Where did you get this?
Because you let me do whatever I want. It doesn't work that way.
You could at least pretend that you are interested in me. You could at least pretend to be jealous when I danced with that moron.
What for? If you like dancing with him, dance to your health. It's beautiful.
I do not like! He's a moron. I thought you would take me away from him. And you never took it. You don't give a damn about me at all.
I don't give a damn.
I do not trust you. You could at least pretend that you care. For me
And what is the compromise here? For some reason, every time it comes to compromise, the conversation comes to the conclusion that I have to do something. What for? That there was a compromise. Why compromise? To make my counterpart happy with life.
But do I make him dissatisfied with life? No. I'm not making him unhappy. But still, let me compromise, because there is no one else. Someone must definitely take care of his mental comfort. Let it be me.
The formula of compromise, which is used everywhere, looks like this: to get into someone else's space; see if you like it or not; if you like - start bargaining about the terms on which you will stay in this space. This is a compromise. But it looks a lot like blackmail.
When I hear that a compromise has to be made, it's not that I'm grabbing a gun, no. It's just that I immediately begin to look very carefully: who is trying to cheat whom here? Who and what are they trying to sell here?
I always have a very simple question: why a compromise is needed if everyone wants the same result in the same way? I'm going to the market, I want to buy a tangerine. An elderly Turkmen is sitting in the market and wants to sell a tangerine. He sold, I bought, just a business. Compromises start when I want to take a tangerine for free. Give it to me, and I won't do anything bad to you. And we will have a compromise.
You look after me beautifully, and I will give you for it. May be. There will be a compromise. You don’t look at other girls, I don’t drill your brain for that. You dance to my tune, for this I do not use everything that you told me against you. You are my wallet, I will give you your life for it. Also a compromise. Or: you give us oil wells, and we will not bomb you for that.
I don't know how it is in the international arena - it's all far from me and uninteresting. Maybe that's the only way you can. But I don’t understand how you can allow compromise in your home. To your bed. How can you launch this trade between loved ones. Between those who have the same interest: to stay together.
I want to be with you, you want to be with me, which of us will set the conditions on which this is feasible? And why? What am I going to bargain with you? And if I need to bargain with you - why will we be together? What do you want from me besides me? What can I demand from you, besides you? And is it possible to buy you with a compromise? Am I - for sale?
Compromise is always trade. I don't know how to compromise. And, perhaps, I do not want to be able to.
When we were boys, my younger brother was constantly asking for my company. He was interested with us. He whined, he pestered, he got. He received a slap on the head, or even a kick, and everything fell into place: there would be no compromise, we were not interested in you.
But one day he rushed into a fight with a group of guys four years older than him. They spoke badly about his older brother, about me. Since then, he has become a permanent member of our yard company. And no compromises.